He’d called the previous evening and asked Nina to dinner. She’d accepted, thinking that after a good night’s sleep, she would feel better. She’d gotten through the day okay, but in the past couple of hours, she’d started feeling worse and worse. Her stomach was queasy, and she would swear her head was pounding even more.
“Kyle,” she said when they stopped at a light. “I’m not feeling well. Can you take me home?”
She braced herself for a fight or at the very least, a long-winded explanation. Instead he glanced at her once, then made a right turn.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, even as he headed back across the island.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve had a headache on and off for the past day, and my stomach seems upset.” She thought about the patients that had been coming through the office and groaned. “Oh, crap. I probably have the flu.”
Kyle visibly shrank from her. “Didn’t you get a flu shot?”
“Yes, but it’s not a hundred percent effective.”
He mumbled something about being grounded and drove a little faster into her neighborhood. When they reached her house, he pulled into the driveway and climbed out.
He helped her out and walked her to the door. “Can I help?” he asked. “Get you something?”
While she appreciated the offer, she saw he was careful not to touch her. She had a feeling he was regretting the kiss he’d given her when he’d first arrived.
“Go,” she told him. “Drink plenty of fluids, make it an early night and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going to crawl into bed and wait for all this to be over. I’ll call you when I feel better.”
He hesitated for a second, then kissed her cheek before jogging back to his car. She went inside and shut the door behind her.
Bertie lay on the sofa reading. She looked up. “Back already?”
“I don’t feel very well,” Nina said. “I might have the flu. I’m going to get into bed and see if I can sleep this off.”
Bertie rose and crossed to her. The other woman touched her forehead. “You’re very warm. Have you taken your temperature?”
Nina thought about the fever and vomiting that came with the flu. How she would feel shaky and gross and weak. She groaned softly. “I don’t want to know,” she admitted. “Just ignore me for the next three days.”
“As if that’s going to happen.” Bertie turned her toward the hallway. “Go put on your pajamas. I’ll be in with some juice in a second.”
Nina did as she was told. As she walked she noticed how the hallway seemed really long and slightly uphill. Her stomach seemed to flip over a couple of times, making her grateful she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch.
She made it to her room where she managed to change into PJs. She washed her face and brushed her teeth, then fell into her bed. Some time later—it could have been minutes or hours, she was both hot and shivering. Her whole body hurt. But the worst was the roiling in her belly.
She turned on her side, hoping that would help, and nearly threw up. She pushed herself into a sitting position and told herself to breathe steadily, only it didn’t help.
The bedroom door opened. Nina stared at the tall figure for a second before she recognized Dylan.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, and was shocked at how pathetic her voice sounded.
“Bertie called,” he told her, crossing to the bed. He touched her forehead, then set a medical bag on the side of the bed and pulled out a thermometer.
“Go away. I have the flu.” She eyed the instrument and groaned. “If you stick that in my mouth, I’m going to throw up.”
“Not a problem,” he said. “It goes in your ear.”
She sank back on her pillows and closed her eyes. “Didn’t you hear me? I have the flu. What if you get it? Go away.”
He smiled at her. “Why did I know you’d be a lousy patient?” He rose and grabbed his bag. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back.”
She tried to tell him not to bother, only instead she had to scramble to the bathroom where she barely made it to the toilet in time to throw up.
* * *
Nina staggered back to her bed after her second session of vomiting and told herself that dying didn’t seem like such a bad idea. She was both hot and chilled, shaking, weak and generally felt like cat gack. Although thinking about cat gack was probably a bad idea. She’d barely crawled onto her mattress when Dylan appeared in her bedroom.
“Go away,” she managed, wondering if she had the strength to roll over and face the other way.
“Sorry,” he said, sounding disgustingly cheerful. “I’m here for the duration.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
She realized he was holding several shopping bags. He set them on the floor and started pulling out the contents. “Soup, crackers, antiviral, soda, juice.”
She tried to focus on what he was saying. “You can’t just buy an antiviral.”
“I’m a doctor. I wrote you a prescription, then filled it at the local pharmacy. When was the last time you threw up?”
She did her best to look fierce and annoyed but had a feeling she came across as pathetic instead. “About twenty minutes ago.”
“Let’s see if you can keep the soda down before we have you swallow the medicine. It won’t do any good if you can’t keep it in your stomach. Want some soup?”
Just the image of anything foodlike had her scrambling past him and heading for the bathroom across the hall. She lunged for the toilet and started to gag. Dylan joined her, carefully holding back her hair. Humiliation blended with bile and burned her throat, but there was no way to complain. Not until her tummy stopped contracting.
“Go away,” she managed when she collapsed onto the bathroom floor. “Just go away.”
“Sorry. That’s not going to happen.”
He helped her up and then half carried her back to her room.
For a couple of minutes he disappeared. She prayed he was gone for good, but no such luck. He returned with a glass and a couple of washcloths. They were damp and cool as he wiped her face, then her throat. He pulled up the sleeves of her PJ shirt and rubbed her arms, then put the second cloth across her forehead.
“Try to sleep,” he told her. “We’ll go for liquids when you wake up.”
“I’m not going to sleep,” she said stubbornly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Stop saying that. You’re stuck with me. Accept the inevitable. Now close your eyes.”
She did what he said, mostly because she was so tired and felt so crappy. When she opened them again, she knew time had passed because there wasn’t any light coming in the windows. The only illumination came from a small lamp on her desk. Soft music played from the clock radio, and Dylan was stretched out reading on the chaise in the corner.
“Hey,” he said when he saw her eyes open. “How are you feeling?”
“Awful.”
“And your stomach?”
“Less gross.”
“Good.” He stood and crossed to the bed. He put his hand on her forehead. “Still warm.”
He sat on the edge of the mattress and held out a glass. “Can you drink this?”
She sat up and sipped. The sweet soft drink soothed her throat and felt cool as she swallowed. After a few sips, she gave him back the glass.
“I’m okay,” she murmured.
“Then you can take your antiviral.”
He measured out the dose, and she took it. Then she collapsed back on the bed. Dylan kissed her forehead. “Go back to sleep.”
The next time she surfaced, Dylan got her to drink some more soda and take a couple of spoonfuls of chicken soup. Hours later, Bertie was the one replacing the washcloths on her forehead.
“Dylan went to work,” the other woman explained.
“He must be tired,” Nina whispered. “Did he get any sleep at all?”
“He said he did. N
ow you rest. Don’t worry about anything.”
The day passed quickly, in disconnected bits. When it was dark again, she felt Dylan stroking her cheek. She opened her eyes.
“You need to get some rest,” she said. “I’m okay.”
“Who’s the medical professional here?” he asked.
“We both are.”
“One more night and then you’ll be rid of me.”
She nodded, unable to complain about having him nearby. She closed her eyes again.
“Talk to me,” she murmured, shifting on the bed to give him room.
“Sure.” He surprised her by lying down next to her and putting his arm around her.
Nice, she thought, relaxing against his warmth.
“My mother hates my new sofa,” he said.
“Is it black leather?”
“Of course.”
“Such a guy.”
“That’s close to what she said, but she sounded a lot more exasperated. Now she’s insisting on going with me to pick out a bedroom set. I gotta tell you, I’m not comfortable shopping for a bed with my mother.”
Nina managed a smile. “Remind her you got through medical school.”
“I don’t think that will help. She says I need color in my life.”
“Did she say which one?”
He chuckled. She felt the rumble in his chest. “No, but I’ll ask.”
He kept talking, but it was more and more difficult to listen and then there was nothing.
Chapter Twenty
THE NEXT DAY, Nina knew she was on the mend. She was able to sit up, eat toast and soup, and only napped for a couple of hours in the afternoon.
About four, she wandered into the kitchen and found Bertie putting a pork roast into the oven. The other woman studied her for a few seconds, then smiled.
“Yes, definitely better,” Bertie announced, then pointed to one of the bar stools. “Sit. I don’t want you getting light-headed. That was some round of the flu.” Bertie washed her hands, then walked back over to lean against the counter. “Kyle has been calling to check on you. Your mother had several rather long conversations with him.”
Nina groaned. “That can’t be good.”
“Probably not.”
“You don’t have to sound so cheerful about it.”
Bertie only smiled. “Tea?”
Nina nodded. “Thanks. You don’t happen to know what she said, do you?”
Bertie filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove. “Sorry, I don’t. For what it’s worth, Dylan was here for two nights and checked on you during the day. A doctor who makes house calls. So rare these days.”
Nina rested her elbows on the counter. “I’m still too weak to deal with guilt.”
“Why would you feel guilty?”
“Because of Dylan and Kyle. They shouldn’t both be worried about me.”
“And why is that?”
“Because it’s wrong.”
“Says who?”
Nina’s head still felt a little scrambled. “Kyle wants to take our relationship to the next level. I don’t even know what that would mean. Dylan is... I don’t know what he is. My friend, I guess.” Only there had been kissing. She supposed that simply asking what he was thinking would be a sign of maturity, but she wasn’t really there yet.
“I’m sure Kyle would have stayed if I’d asked.”
Bertie put a teapot on the counter then filled an infuser with lavender Earl Grey. “You don’t think he was worried about getting sick, then being grounded?”
Nina remembered how anxious he’d been to get away from her. “Probably, but it’s his job to stay healthy. He needs to be able to fly. Besides, I didn’t want him seeing me like that.”
Bertie smiled at her. “So Dylan is different?”
“Yes, but don’t read too much into that. We’re friends. I’ve known him forever.”
“You don’t have to choose right now. You can have them both.”
“I’m not ready for that,” she murmured, thinking Averil had pretty much said the same thing. “I’m going to go lie down before dinner.”
Bertie nodded. “I’ll bring you a mug of tea when it’s ready.”
“Thanks.”
* * *
By six-thirty, Nina had napped again and was feeling much more normal. She knew Bertie would say it was the healing powers of Earl Grey and maybe she was right.
She put on fresh sweatpants and a clean T-shirt before joining the others in the dining room, and only winced a little when she heard Barry Manilow on the sound system.
Averil rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it.”
Bonnie was already seated at the table and sniffed when she heard them. “I don’t care. I love him. And I will always love his music.” She turned to Nina. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Kyle has been very worried.”
“I heard you two had been talking. Should I be concerned?”
“Only a little.”
Averil chuckled. “Just remember the truth is supposed to set you free.”
“I’m having my doubts.”
Dinner was the pork roast with scalloped potatoes and green beans. Nina wasn’t sure how much she could eat, so took tiny portions of everything. Her stomach had been quiet for the past couple of days, but she didn’t want to shock her system too much. There was a bottle of Pinot Noir, but she passed on the wine and stuck to her tea.
“I have a list,” Bonnie said. “I think we can become a chain.”
“Of antique stores?” Averil asked.
“Yes. We could branch out. Imagine how well we’d do in Sedona or New Orleans. I’m very excited.”
Nina got the sense this was an ongoing discussion. “You’re talking about the proceeds from the painting?” she asked. “What you’re going to do with them?”
“If we sell,” her mother told her. “That isn’t for sure.”
Nina felt the beginnings of a headache, but this one had nothing to do with being sick. “You still might keep it?”
How could they? A painting that expensive was a serious responsibility. None of them had the money to pay for the insurance, let alone a safe place to keep it. The bank vault fees alone were more than an average car payment, and what about Ambrose? He wouldn’t wait forever for his fees.
Not anything she could deal with right now, she told herself as she put down her fork and pushed away her untouched plate.
“You have to trust us,” her mother told her. “We’re not idiots.”
Bertie glanced at her partner, then turned to Nina. “What she means is we’re considering all our options and we’re going to make a sensible decision together. As a family.”
Averil shrugged. “I’m staying out of this,” she told Nina.
Bonnie picked up her wineglass. “No, she’s not. Everyone gets an equal vote.” Her brows drew together. “And no one gets to tell anyone else no.” Her expression brightened. “I was thinking we could buy a racehorse.”
Nina pushed back her chair and picked up her mug. “I’m not very hungry,” she said. “Excuse me.”
* * *
Nina checked email on her laptop. She was tired of being in her room, but wasn’t comfortable leaving it. She could hear the others talking and knew it was for the best if she didn’t know the subject matter. Restlessness stirred inside of her. Nothing about what was going on felt right, she thought. Not the painting or dealing with her mother or being trapped in this house.
Only the problem wasn’t any of them, she reminded herself. It was her.
Someone knocked on her door.
“Come in,” she called, closing her email program and turning in her chair.
Averil walked in. “How are you feeling?”
“Physically okay. Emotionally battered.”
“Mom’s being a bitch in that subtle way she has,” her sister said as she sank onto the bed and sat cross-legged. “A nip here, a jab there. Nothing direct but you get the message.”
Nina wasn’t sure
if she was being comforted or set up. An unfair assumption, considering Averil was telling the truth.
“Sometimes I think she hates me,” Nina admitted.
“She resents how you handle things, but she won’t do it herself. She traps you and then complains when you’re in charge. It’s not fair.”
Nina looked at her sister. “At the risk of starting a fight with you, too, you’re being very evenhanded in all this.”
“I’m outside the fray. I think it’s worse now, because you’re not willing to simply let Mom screw up. There’s too much on the line, so you know you have to push her. She doesn’t want to be told what to do, but it’s millions of dollars. They could be ripped off or hustled and end up with nothing but a bunch of expenses.”
Nina sighed with relief. “Yes, and I don’t want that to happen.”
“I don’t, either. I honestly don’t know what to do about her.”
There was a second knock, then the door opened and Bertie walked in. “Can anyone join this conversation?”
“We were talking about Mom,” Averil said, shifting to make room for Bertie on the bed.
“I figured. She’s being difficult.”
Nina wondered if Bertie was here to try to make her feel better, too. And if the visit was spontaneous or planned. She was still tired enough not to care either way. As long as the problem got solved.
“Mom sees me as wanting to take the fun out of the situation,” she said. “I want this to be fun, but I also want it to end well. This is a massive disaster, waiting to happen. You two could be set up for the rest of your lives. You’d never have to worry about money.”
Averil’s mouth twisted. “Mom doesn’t worry about money now.”
“We make enough,” Bertie added.
Nina felt her temper rising. “No, you don’t. The roof needs replacing. Do either of you have the money for that, because I don’t. My savings account got cleaned out last year when the water heater exploded and all that plumbing had to be fixed. You two barely make enough in the store to cover the expenses. With Cindy’s new finds, there’s finally a chance you might be able to take a small salary. And wouldn’t that be nice? Because I’ve been supporting this household for the past ten years.”
Evening Stars Page 23
