If this person didn't arrive soon, the kids would be late for school, and Maggie would be late opening her nursery.
"Perhaps I should go find your father," she told Kathy.
Leaving her hot water on the counter, Maggie pushed through the kitchen door and headed for the stairs. Fortunately, she didn't have to worry about the protocol for rousting her former brother-in-law from his sickbed. He was coming down the stairs.
Wearing a tie.
Maggie frowned. A tie?
"Maggie." He smiled. "You're still here?"
Oh, boy. He was already back to himself—smug and commandeering. He looked as if nothing had happened to him at all.
His demeanor caused all of Maggie's old reactions to him to pop to the fore: irritation and a readiness to defend her territory.
She smiled back at him. "Yes, I'm still here, Ian. I've been waiting for your nurse, the one you said you were going to call about last night?"
He cocked his head to one side. Questioning, as if he couldn't remember the promise.
Did he want a fight? "You have called an agency for someone, right?"
She could swear Ian was about to answer with yet another nonverbal dig, and she knew that would break her self-restraint.
Fortunately, the telephone rang, forestalling both of their actions. For a second they just stared at each other. Then, with an unmistakable look of triumph, Ian said, "I'd better get that."
Maggie raised an eyebrow. "How do you know it's for you?"
Ian opened his mouth, but it was Kathy's voice Maggie heard, calling from the kitchen doorway.
"Da-ud! It's for you."
Ian looked past Maggie. "Thanks, pumpkin."
"I think it's your boss," Kathy added.
Ian gave Maggie a shrug, as if he just couldn't help it. She'd been trumped by his boss.
She watched, exasperated, as he moved past her to trot down the rest of the stairs.
"I'll take it in my office, sweetheart," Ian told his daughter. "Go ahead and hang up the kitchen phone."
"Okay, Dad."
Maggie narrowed her eyes as Ian waltzed into his home office, closing the door after himself.
He wasn't getting out of this so easily. She was passing the baton, and he was going to tell her when and to whom.
~~~
Ian felt like whistling as he strolled into his home office. He hadn't expected Maggie's interrogation, but fortunately he could avoid it, and for the best possible reason. Howard was finally calling him back. Ian would go over his schedule with his boss, then call a couple cabs for himself and the kids.
This whole episode didn't have to be such a big deal.
Ian closed the door behind himself, then dropped into his black, wheeled desk chair. His aching back felt almost normal again. The site at his groin was still sore but that was only to be expected. The important thing was he had his energy back. Well, most of it, anyway. Yes, he was fine, fine.
With a pleased smile, he picked up the office extension. "You're up early, Howard."
"You know I'm always up at the crack of dawn," Howard replied in his customary growl. "How can I sleep in when I know all my project managers are letting their jobs go to hell in handbaskets? Anyway, what can I do for you, Ian—like I don't have enough on my plate, as it is."
Ian leaned back in the old desk chair. "It's more what I can do for you, Howard."
"Oh?"
Ian's smile widened. "I thought you ought to know the doctor gave me a clean bill of health. I may be a little late getting in this morning, though. I've got to arrange a ride to school for my kids."
He waited for Howard's expression of pleasure and surprise. His boss probably hadn't hoped to see him today. He'd probably wondered what would happen to the Raleigh project in the meantime.
"Ian," Howard finally said. His tone was strange, almost careful. "You just had a heart attack."
"Well...yeah." Ian laughed. "But it's all over now."
Howard paused. "You need to rest."
"Not really."
"Not really?"
"The doctor said it was only strenuous physical labor I had to avoid."
"Yes. Well..."
"I don't want to let those obstacles on Raleigh stew," Ian reminded his boss. "Time will only make them grow bigger."
There was another pause over the phone wires. "Ian, I don't care what your doctor says, you know how it gets down here. 'Hectic' doesn't cover it. 'Frantic' barely describes the matter. You need to take it easy. Make absolutely sure you're one hundred percent."
Dread sent exploratory fingers through Ian's gut. Howard was acting like the rest of them: suspicious. "I can handle this. Just let Eileen know I'll be a little late."
"Eileen. Yeah, see, that's another thing. I had to buy the woman two hours time with my own therapist Friday afternoon. Seems she can handle three simultaneous deadlines and a janitor strike, but bosses dropping into dead faints in front of her is a completely different matter."
Ian felt sweat break out along his hair line. He supposed he couldn't blame Eileen for getting a bit upset over the 911 routine, but hell, she wasn't fourteen years old like Andy. "I'll deal with Eileen. All these details can be worked out, Howard. The important thing is you can count on me."
Ian heard his words hang in the electronic air. You can count on me. They suddenly sounded very stupid. On Friday he'd literally dropped to his office floor. Was that the act of a man a person could count on?
Ian's face started to warm. Okay, maybe he'd collapsed on Friday, but God bless him, Howard still had to count on Ian. He needed him. Who else was going to unravel the red tape that was threatening the Raleigh project?
"Ian." Howard sounded placating. "Look. You know I consider you my best man. But you had a heart attack. That's serious stuff."
"Yes, yes, but I'm taking care of myself. I'm doing everything I'm supposed to."
"Ian." There was a pause. "I gave Raleigh to Simpson."
For a minute Ian stared at the wall in front of him and the print hanging there of a medieval view of a world map. What? What had Howard just said?
"I gave the Raleigh project to Roy Simpson," Howard repeated. "You know you need time to recuperate, and that city ordinance problem couldn't wait."
Ian gazed at the dragons poking heads out of an edge-of-the-world sea on the map. Howard had given the Raleigh project to Roy Simpson? "Good man, Simpson," he heard himself say.
"The best, only after you," Howard replied. His tone was frighteningly gentle. "And we want you back, absolutely, but only after you're completely recuperated. You need to take time, Ian. That's the only thing that will heal a heart. Time."
Ian could feel his suspect heart begin to pound. Did it hurt, though? Was there pressure? Fear flooded him.
"Listen, I've got to go now," Howard went on. "I'm only two exits from the office, and I still have a dozen calls to make."
"Yeah."
"Buck up, hey. You're going to be all right. You just gotta give it time."
Ian cleared his throat. "Time. Right, Howard." His boss had taken the Raleigh project away from Ian. Sure he had. Why put a known quantity, someone known to have a dicky heart, in charge of millions of dollars worth of real estate? That would be foolish, and Howard Gesell was never foolish.
"Look, stay in touch," Howard said.
"I'll do that," Ian muttered, but the phone was already dead. Knowing Howard, he had one hand steering his Cadillac at seventy-five miles an hour down the freeway and the other dialing his next phone call. Probably to Simpson.
Ian looked at the phone receiver, then set it down carefully.
His heart was pounding very hard now. He had to stop again and check. Was that a healthy beat or was there a twinge in there, an ache, that could betoken something dire?
He put a hand to his forehead. Damp. But surely only because of the unexpectedly difficult nature of the phone call. Ian was not having another heart attack.
But he could be. Heaven knew, he'd alr
eady proven he could be having one.
Ian leaned his head against the back of his chair. He stared up at the ceiling. Returning to work had been a complete fantasy. Every ten minutes he was checking himself. Do I feel anything there? What was that? For the love of— Who had he thought he was fooling? He was a goddamn heart patient.
Had he really imagined he could go into an office, stand toe to toe with city officials who wanted blood, grapple with building inspectors, field-marshal a crew of battling contractors?
Reality crashed over his head, making him feel like he was drowning. He was a 'known quantity.' Delicate. Fragile. Liable to blow at any moment. Please. If he'd gone into work, he would have made an utter fool of himself. At every new problem that cropped up, he would have asked himself: is the stress of this one going to do it? Is it going to put me over the edge?
Ian's hand formed into a fist. He beat it silently on the arm of his chair. He was a known quantity. Known to be incapable, breakable, unreliable.
Known.
CHAPTER SIX
This is ridiculous.
By now, both kids were sitting in the kitchen with Maggie, their backpacks zipped, ready to leave for school. In fact, they'd be late if they didn't leave soon. Yet no driving caretaker had shown up from Ian's alleged agency.
"That's it," Maggie muttered under her breath as she pushed back from her spot at the kitchen counter. She didn't care if Ian was talking to his boss, it was time for him to deal with her. Smiling at the kids, she said aloud, "I'm going to find your father." Silently she added, Again.
After pushing through the kitchen door, again, she marched down the hall. She stood before Ian's study door, set her jaw, and raised her fist.
Before her knuckles could connect for a healthy knock, however, the door opened away from her.
Maggie was left standing with her fist in the air and her mouth open.
Her immediate impression was that the 'old' Ian, the one she'd met a little while ago on the stairs, was gone. In his place was the man she'd seen lying helpless on a hospital gurney, tubes attached to him. Ian's lips were pressed together, his eyes deep pools of darkness.
"Uh," Maggie stammered. "I, um..."
"Oh, that's right." His lips flattened even more. "You wanted to talk to me."
He looked like he'd just been whacked in the head with a two-by-four, dazed but determined to keep fighting. All of Maggie's previous irritation with him evaporated.
"Uh, yeah," she said. "...Did you want breakfast?"
There was a flicker behind his eyes, a possible understanding this wasn't what Maggie had originally intended to say. Then he shook his head. "No. No, thank you. I'm not particularly hungry."
"Um." Maggie gestured toward the kitchen. "Well, the kids are ready to go to school. I'm, uh, happy to drive them..." Unless, she could have added, unless you arranged, like you said you would, for someone else to come help you.
But instead of adding the words she'd been waiting to ask, she snapped her mouth shut.
But Ian seemed to hear them, anyway. His expression sharpened with a sort of desperation. Maggie was reminded again of the swimmer who couldn't reach the buoy. "Ah, thanks." His gaze went past Maggie toward the kitchen door. "I...hadn't gotten that far in planning things out."
No, Maggie could see that. Or rather, she suspected he'd had plans but they'd recently been shot down. Dammit, he hadn't called an agency. She was wondering what to do about that when Kathy pushed through the swing kitchen door.
"Aunt Maggie! We'd better go now. Come on!"
Maggie half turned. "Right, right." Meanwhile, she tried to calculate. She could take the kids to school, that was no problem. She'd be a little late opening the nursery, but the real issue was Ian. What was he going to do by himself all day, unable to drive? And what was Andy going to think about it?
She didn't have to wait long to discover Andy's opinion.
"Now, hold it." Andy pushed out of the kitchen behind Kathy. "If you take us to school, Aunt Maggie, who's going to stay with Dad?" The boy's eyes went to his father.
Maggie turned to face Ian, too. He hadn't called an agency. She knew he hadn't. It was all she could do not to wince when Andy, of course, asked.
"Did you call for someone, Dad? When are they going to get here?"
Maggie saw pain flit across Ian's face, acknowledgment that he actually needed such a person. And guilt. He hadn't done what he'd promised Andy.
Andy's voice went accusing. "You didn't call, did you?"
All eyes were on Ian now. Maggie held her breath. He'd clearly planned some end-run around the necessity for a nurse but the scheme had obviously fallen through. Now Ian was being called on it.
For one terrible instant he looked like he was about to close in on himself, just fade away. Then he suddenly straightened. He looked Andy right in the eye and announced, "I'll spend today with Maggie."
Everybody stopped then. Maggie was sure her heart ceased beating, then started up again with a terrible thump. Well, yes, she felt the inexplicable need to help Ian, but she had to work at her nursery today. She absolutely had to.
Once again, Ian seemed to hear her thoughts. He glanced down at her. "I'll come with you," he said.
"You'll—?"
"To your nursery. I'd appreciate some fresh air."
Ian, at the nursery with her. Maggie tried to remember if he'd ever been to her nursery and if so, what disparaging comments about it he might have made. She tried to imagine conducting business with his mocking, superior eyes looking on.
"Well, it's not like there's any other choice," Andy said, clearly disgusted.
Ian's eyes locked with Maggie's. No, it wasn't as if there were any other choice. He hadn't called an agency. Nobody was coming to take care of him. Oh, she could be an absolute monster and say no but that was hardly a choice.
She drew in a deep breath. "Okay." It suddenly struck her that just because she was capitulating didn't mean she had to make it easy for Ian. Almost smiling, she raised an eyebrow. "But you have to promise to behave yourself, not irritate me like you always seem to do."
There was a brief spark in his eyes. A response? Maggie could swear that for an instant some of the bleakness left his face. But it was only for an instant. "Sure." He sounded flat. "I'll behave myself."
If he actually did that, Maggie thought, turning to get her purse, then she'd really have to worry about him.
~~~
A few minutes after getting dropped off in front of his school, Andy stopped his trudge toward the main gate, slit his eyes, and ventured a backward glance over his shoulder. Out on the street, his dad's car was wheeling, rather precipitously, into a U-turn.
Aunt Maggie was not used to his dad's SUV, but even without that excuse she probably wasn't the best driver in the world. Probably not that much better than Mrs. Granby, to tell the truth.
But Andy would much rather have his Aunt Maggie around taking charge of his dad than that simpering old biddy—or some unknown character from an agency. Aunt Maggie was...effective. If anything happened to his dad, she'd know how to deal with it.
Andy turned forward again and grimaced as he hoisted his backpack higher over his shoulder. Since he'd been the one to cause his dad's heart attack in the first place—or so he had to assume—it behooved him to be the one to make sure his dad didn't have another one. He considered himself in charge of his dad's complete recovery.
That wasn't going to happen unless somebody strong was around, somebody strong-willed enough to make Dad toe the line. Andy had read the instructions typed on that sheet at the hospital: No pushing, not even a vacuum cleaner. No pulling, not even a rake. And, of course, that most damning of all: no driving.
"Hey, Andy!" Brandon was yelling at him, swinging his arms wildly from his position perched atop the base of the flagpole. "I thought your dad croaked!" Brandon shouted, at the top of his lungs and audible to every kid in the general vicinity. "What are you doing in school today?"
"Would yo
u mind not acting like a total idiot," Andy snarled and felt his face redden. Just what he wanted, everybody in the goddam school thinking he needed pity. "My dad just had a little heart attack. He's not anywhere near croaking." But even as he said the words, Andy felt their lack of accuracy. No vacuuming. No driving...
"Oh. That's tough," Brandon commiserated, then destroyed his apparent solemnity with an under-the-arm fart. "Better luck next time."
If Andy's eyes had been knives, his 'best friend' Brandon would have been in shards at that moment. A cold, hard fury rushed through Andy. This wasn't funny. His dad had almost died, and maybe because of him.
"Oh, come on." Brandon, apparently noticing he'd gone too far, slapped his friend on the back. "I was only kidding."
Yes, but it really wasn't funny. Andy managed to keep the words behind his lips, however. Brandon wouldn't understand. How could he? Nothing like this had ever happened to him.
"It's all right," Andy mumbled and then chuckled. "Anyway, I did get out of that geometry quiz yesterday."
Brandon put a hand to his chest and emitted a dramatic groan. "I shoulda had a heart attack of my own to get out of that quiz."
Andy felt another sliver of fury go through him, but he was able to handle it better this time. He managed a limp smile. "That bad, huh?"
"Worse." Brandon drew his hand from his chest to slug Andy with it. "You lucky dog."
Lucky, yeah. It was all Andy could do to keep smiling at his friend, while pretending to be the same kid as last Friday. Innocent, blameless, untarnished. Sure, he was lucky.
~~~
O-kay. Driving Ian's Cherokee, Maggie negotiated the traffic between Kathy's middle school and her nursery. Beside her sat Ian in the passenger seat. Except for bidding the children their various goodbyes, he hadn't said a word.
Guilty conscience, Maggie thought. Or perhaps she simply hoped that's what his silence meant. He really was supposed to have called an agency. She was supposed to have been out of it. No longer involved.
That'll Be the Day Page 6
