Sizzling

by Susan Mallery

  Lori hugged her. “You don’t have to say anything. Thanks for being here. But don’t overtire yourself. You’re still recovering.”

  Gloria’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t you worry about me, child. I’m fine.”

  Lori nodded, and Gloria and Cal moved on. A few minutes later, the last of the mourners had arrived and she was able to walk through the crowd.

  She was amazed at the number of people who had shown up to celebrate her sister’s life. There was an equal number of smiles and tears as friends recounted funny and touching stories about Madeline’s life.

  She found Penny manning the kitchen, organizing enough food to feed the city for three days.

  “We’re good,” Penny said as she looked up from a tray of corn cakes topped with vegetables and tiny shrimp. “I have the food together and Dani’s handling the rest of it. I made some pretty intense desserts. At times like these, sugar always helps, don’t you think?”

  “It does for me,” Lori said. “You’ve been great. All of you. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You don’t have to. You’re one of us. Of course we want to take care of you.”

  One of them? If only. But she didn’t say that. She thanked Penny again and returned to the living room.

  Reid stood by the makeshift bar set up in the corner. She crossed to him and accepted a glass of white wine.

  “You okay?” he asked, then shook his head. “Let me rephrase that. Are you able to handle all this?”

  “There’s not a whole lot for me to handle,” she told him. “Your family took care of everything. I want to thank you for that. For being there for me. It means a lot.”

  She couldn’t have gotten through this without him. He’d stepped in with Gloria, staying with his grandmother for much of the day, then showing up here to be with her. He’d spent every night since Madeline had died, holding her until she fell asleep.

  Part of her felt guilty for not being able to give him more, but honestly, there was nothing left. Her emotional insides were a gray, empty void. Eventually he would get tired of that and move on, she thought grimly. Which meant she was looking at even more pain.

  She wanted to say something to him, something that would keep him around until she’d started to recover, but there weren’t any words. Still, she had to try.

  But before she could come up with anything, a woman walked over and started talking about Madeline.

  “She adored you,” the woman said, smiling, but with tears in her eyes. “I still remember how happy and touched she was when you invited her to come live here. She told me she wasn’t scared anymore. She knew you’d be with her no matter what. She knew how much you loved her.”

  Lori nodded. Her eyes burned as her throat tightened. “She was my sister,” she managed.

  The woman gave a little sob. “Sorry. This has to be ten times harder for you than for me and I’m barely holding it together. I just wanted you to know that Madeline talked about you all the time.”

  “Thank you.”

  Others approached her with different stories. There were more kind words until Lori couldn’t take anymore. She escaped to her sister’s room. After closing the door and leaning against it, she realized she still wasn’t alone. Her mother stepped out of the small closet, a red blouse over one arm.

  “I remember when Madeline bought this,” her mother said, wiping her tears. “She had just filed for divorce and she said she wanted to buy something cheerful. But the blouse looked horrible on her and I couldn’t seem to lie about it. I remember us standing in my living room, laughing over the fact that she couldn’t even buy the right blouse.” Tears fell and she wiped them away. “She was always ready to laugh at herself.”

  “I remember. She tried to pawn that blouse off on me, but I told her there was no way it could look better on me than on her.”

  Her mother sighed. “She was always a beautiful girl. Even as a baby, she was lovely.”

  “I know. She never took a bad picture. Even those horrible school pictures turned out great. I hated that.” Emotions swept through her. She sank on the bed and clutched her sister’s worn and tattered teddy bear to her chest.

  “I hated her,” she whispered. “God forgive me, sometimes I hated how beautiful and charming she was. How everyone loved her.”

  Her mother sat next to her and hugged her tight. “You hush right now. Don’t beat yourself up, Lori. You didn’t hate your sister. Not ever. You wanted what she had and there’s a difference. You never give yourself enough credit. I know I’m to blame for that and I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” Lori told her. “It’s fine. I’m okay. I just wish…” She swallowed hard. “I wish I’d been nicer or something. I wish she’d known how much she mattered to me.”

  “She knew. Don’t you think she knew? You asked her to come live with you in her time of need. You opened your heart and your life. You were saving money so you wouldn’t have to work her last months. She knew all that. She would have loved you anyway, but she loved you for that. She respected and admired you. She told me.”

  Lori felt her eyes fill and for the first time since hearing that her sister had died, she cried.

  Big, fat, hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Sobs shook her body.

  “I m-miss her,” she said, her voice thick and broken. “I miss her so much. I want her back. I know she had to try with the transplant and I’ll always be grateful she died with hope, but, God, I miss her.”

  “I know you do.”

  They held on to each other, connected by a grief that seemed endless. Eventually the tears slowed. Lori wiped her face.

  “Mom, do you want to come live with me?”

  Her mother smiled at her. “I appreciate the offer, but we’re both too stubborn for that to ever work. But I would like us to be close. We have each other and I don’t want to waste a moment of that.”

  “Me, either.”

  BETWEEN HER NEW JOB and helping Lori and her mother through the funeral, Dani hadn’t had much free time. So it was another week before she found an empty afternoon and the courage to face Gloria.

  She parked in front of the large, old house and stared up at the sparkling windows. As a child, the house had terrified her. As a teenager, it had represented a place to escape from. She’d never been comfortable inside the well-decorated walls and she didn’t expect to feel any better at the end of this meeting. But she had to try.

  She’d called Gloria and had asked for a meeting, explaining the purpose and, despite the older woman’s civilized behavior at the funeral, had expected to be shut down. But the woman she would always think of as her grandmother had agreed.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” Dani muttered to herself as she climbed out of her car, then walked toward the front door. “She just wants to torture me in person.”

  There was no other logical explanation for Gloria’s agreeing to see her. Still, she couldn’t help the spark of hope that burned inside.

  She was let in by Reid who gave her a thumbsup after he led her to Gloria’s room. Apparently the accident meant she couldn’t climb stairs because Gloria sat in a wing chair in the study. The room had been converted to a comfortable bedroom, complete with an adjustable bed and large television.

  “Hello, Dani,” Gloria said. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks.” Dani crossed to the other chair in the room and sank down. “You’re doing much better. You seemed to be getting around pretty well at Madeline’s funeral.”

  Gloria shrugged. “I’m healing, but still getting older and older. It sucks, but there we are.”

  Dani blinked. She’d never heard her grandmother use the word “sucks” before. It was kind of scary to hear it now.

  “I understand you went to work for Bella Roma? An interesting choice.”

  “I’m happy with it. Bernie is great to work for.”

  “His mother can be a bit of a challenge.”

  Dani remembered that Mama Giuseppe hadn’t had very much
nice to say about Gloria and wondered about a past the two might share.

  “I’m enjoying the new place,” Dani said, going for a neutral response. “It is challenging, but fun. Great people, great customers and the food is amazing.”

  Gloria studied her. “I haven’t seen much of you lately.”

  “I know.”

  “Why is that?”

  Dani stared at the other woman, unable to believe the question. “You made it clear I wasn’t family in the cruelest way possible. You deliberately hurt me. Why would I want to come back for more and why would you want me to?”

  Gloria looked down. “Yes, I suppose when you put it like that…”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Dani found herself feeling almost guilty, which really pissed her off. None of this was her fault. She hadn’t done anything wrong. So why did she feel like apologizing?

  “I don’t want to keep you,” Gloria said, pointing to a folder on the bookcase. “That’s for you. There’s basic information about your father inside. I didn’t bother with anything else because you’ll be able to find out whatever most interests you yourself.”

  Dani stared at the folder, but didn’t reach for it at once. “You’re going to tell me his name?”

  “Of course, Dani. I understand why you’re doing this, but please be careful. A man in your father’s position…” She sighed. “It won’t be easy. You have to understand that.”

  Dani stood up and grabbed the folder, but didn’t open it. “What aren’t you telling me? Is he a murderer? Someone I’ll hate?”

  “Not at all. He’s—” She waved at the folder. “Open it, for heaven’s sake. Then you’ll understand what I mean.”

  Dani sucked in a breath, then flipped open the folder. The top sheet of paper showed a picture of a man in his early fifties. His face was handsome, smiling and incredibly familiar.

  Shock held her frozen. She couldn’t read the words underneath or bring herself to turn the page. She looked back at Gloria.

  “Mark Canfield?” she asked, her voice breathless. “Senator Canfield?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s my father?”

  “Yes.”

  Dani didn’t know what to think. “He’s running for president. Of the United States. You’re telling me my father is running for president?”

  “His campaign is still in the exploratory stage, but that’s what I’ve heard.”

  Dani sank back into the chair and tried to catch her breath. She couldn’t get her mind around this life-altering reality.

  “I can’t believe it,” she murmured. “Mark Canfield? I know who he is. I voted for him.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear that,” Gloria said with a smile.

  REID WOKE in the middle of the night and found himself alone in the bed. He lay there for a second before getting up and walking into the living room.

  Lori sat curled up in a corner of the sofa. Outside, street light spilled through partially opened drapes and allowed him to see she was awake.

  “Bad dreams?” he asked as he settled next to her.

  She shrugged. “When I can sleep, which isn’t often.”

  “You could take something.”

  “I’m not ready to resort to medicating myself, although I’m close to giving in on that front.” She drew in a breath. “Why are you up?”

  “You were gone.”

  She didn’t answer that. He put his arm on her shoulder to draw her close, but there was a stiffness in her body that resisted his attempt to offer comfort. Uneasiness settled in his gut.

  She was still deeply mourning the loss of her sister. This was hardly the time to talk about their relationship, yet he felt compelled to say something.

  “You’ve been quiet,” he told her. “I know you’re going through a lot. I’ve been hanging around to help. Would you rather I wasn’t here?”

  She turned to him, her eyes dark and unreadable in the half light. “I think that would be better. I need some space right now.”

  It was as if she’d crawled inside his chest and drop-kicked his heart. The rejection was as sharp as it was instant. He didn’t know what to think, what to say. Lori didn’t want him around. Lori didn’t want him.

  “I, ah, okay.” He stood. “I’ll go.”

  He paused for a second, but when she didn’t say anything else, he had no choice but to leave.

  As he got dressed he remembered all the times she’d worried that he would be the one crushing her. Looks like she’d spent too much time worrying and he hadn’t spent enough.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  GLORIA THREW DOWN her napkin. “What’s wrong with you? You’re hanging around the house too much. Frankly, you’re starting to get on my nerves.”

  Reid looked at his grandmother. “I can move out anytime.”

  She sniffed. “I’m not ready for that, but I want to know why you’re so quiet and moody. While Madeline was a perfectly lovely young woman, you hardly knew her. So it can’t be that.”

  It wasn’t. “I miss Lori,” he said quietly, knowing at this point there was no reason to hide from the truth. It slapped him in the face every single minute of the day. “I finally found the woman I want to be with and we can never have a relationship.”

  “Why on earth not? The girl’s crazy about you. She has been from the beginning. I tried to warn her off, but would she listen? Of course not. Young people today.”

  “She’s not crazy about me anymore. She barely speaks to me. About a week ago I asked her if she’d like me to stop coming around all the time, if she needed space. She said it would be better that way.” He stared at his uneaten dinner. “She can’t forgive me, which I understand. I can’t forgive myself.”

  “For what?” his grandmother demanded. “What is your horrible crime?”

  How could she not know? How could she want him to say it aloud? Unless this was her way of forcing him to take responsibility.

  “I’m the reason Madeline died.”

  “You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic,” Gloria muttered. “Dear God, Reid. You weren’t in the operating room. It’s not as if you ran her over with a car. How is any of this your fault?”

  “I found the donor. I insisted on moving forward with that.”

  “So she could have a chance. The new liver was supposed to save her life.”

  “But it didn’t,” he said, feeling the helpless fury rise up inside of him. “It didn’t do a damn thing. If I’d just left things alone, she could have had another year. Do you know what that year would have meant to her? To Lori and her mother?”

  “I do know,” Gloria told him. “But you’re taking your already overdeveloped sense of self-importance a little too far. Be logical for a moment. Madeline wanted a liver transplant. You didn’t force this upon her. Lori and her mother wanted it, as well. As far as they’re concerned, you made a miracle happen.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I have a good idea about it. Besides, based on what you told me, the doctor said Madeline would never have survived any major surgery. She had a heart condition no one knew about. So regardless of who found the donor, she would never have made it.”

  “But she wouldn’t have died that day,” he said heatedly. “Maybe, with time, she would have had a chance.”

  “Or not. You did the best you could. Reid, you put yourself up for public ridicule in an effort to save someone’s life. You acted as you did with the best of intentions. No one blames you. Not even Lori.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Of course I do. Did it ever occur to you that Lori’s actions have nothing to do with you? That she and her sister have been close for years and that the loss has devastated her? Did it occur to you that she’s withdrawn as a way to deal with the pain? Or maybe because she thinks you don’t care enough to deal with her grief. Have you talked to her at all?”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  Her expression tightened. “I don’t rem
ember you being this much of an idiot before. If you don’t get your act together, go to her and tell her how much you love her, I’ll write you out of my will.”

  That nearly made him smile. “I don’t need your money, Gloria. I have plenty of my own.”

  “Fine. I’ll fire you.”

  “I already quit.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Then I’ll stop loving you.”

  That got him. He straightened. “I didn’t know you did.”

  She looked away. “Of course I do. You’re my grandson. I’ve watched you grow up and become, until today, a relatively decent man.”

  “You’ve never said the words.”

  She sighed and returned her gaze to his face. “Fine. I love you. Are you happy?”

  It kind of surprised him, but, yeah, he was happy to hear it.

  He stood, walked around the table and hugged her. “I love you, too,” he said.

  “I know. So stop telling me and go say it to someone who matters.”

  LORI WAS SORRY she’d started crying the day of Madeline’s funeral. It had been nearly a week and she couldn’t seem to stop. She wasn’t eating or sleeping. Instead she lived in a world of pain where she missed her sister in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

  The pain was made worse by the loss of Reid. She’d known letting him go was the only thing that made sense. He couldn’t possibly want to hang out with her while she mourned, so when he’d wanted to leave, she’d let him. But as he’d been her only anchor in a swirling, scary world, now she was alone and it terrified her.

  Her mother had gone back to her little trailer. All her friends gathered around her and she seemed to be doing all right. But Madeline had been one of Lori’s only friends.

  “I’m pathetic,” Lori muttered to herself as she walked into the kitchen to make some tea. “I have to pull it all together.”

  She had a job. Although she’d talked to Gloria a few times, she’d yet to make a commitment on returning. Part of her knew that Gloria was well enough to survive without her. Which meant she, Lori, should start looking for another job. But where? The thought of having to deal with someone else right now, to start over at yet another house with another family, was more than she could stand.