Fool for Love

by Beth Ciotta

  Luke stepped into his line of vision. “Gram’s sleeping comfortably, knocked out on painkillers. I called the rest of the family, told them the doctor’s discouraging visitors until tomorrow.” He gestured to their great-aunts and uncles. “Some people don’t listen. As for Ethel, Judy, and Helen, they feel responsible. Refused to leave until they had a word with you.”

  Before Devlin could acknowledge his relatives, he was rushed by his grandma’s friends.

  Ethel spoke first. “We’re so sorry, Devlin. It was the craziest thing. One minute she was bicycling next to us on a wide, even path and the next she’d veered off.”

  “‘Bike paths are for kids and old people,’” Helen huffed. “That’s what she said. ‘We are old,’ I reminded her.”

  “That’s what set her off, I think,” Judy said.

  “No,” Ethel said, “it was reminiscing about our younger days in Cupcake Lovers that set her off. Talking about all the things we used to do or that we wanted to do but never did. That’s when she got riled.”

  “We never should have let her talk us into an after-brunch bike ride,” Judy said. “Two of us were wearing dresses, for goodness’ sake. Not to mention most of us haven’t been on a bicycle in two decades.”

  Ethel sighed. “All the more reason to throw caution to the wind and have some fun, she’d said.”

  “And it was fun,” Judy said, “until Daisy veered off the main path.”

  Luke had shared this story with Devlin over the phone. Daisy had turned onto a trail that went downhill, gaining speed and managing to stay in control until the front tire hit a rut and sent her skidding several feet over the grass and into a tree. Similar to the snowmobile fiasco last winter, but worse. This time she hadn’t walked away.

  “You should have heard her,” Judy said, “whooping like a kid as she sailed down the hill.”

  “We doubled back and saw the whole thing. She was in her glory,” Ethel said, “and I admit, for a minute I was envious.”

  “Until she crashed.”

  “It was awful.”

  “Dialed nine-one-one right away.”

  Now Gram was in the hospital with a broken ankle, fractured rib, scrapes, bruises, and a gash on her forehead.

  “She’s lucky she’s alive,” Ethel said.

  “Doc said it helped that she’d been drinking,” Luke threw in. “If you can believe that.”

  “Wine,” Ethel said. “Just a glass.”

  “But enough that her limbs were loose. Could’ve been worse if she’d tensed up. Instead she just sort of rolled with it. Good news is by skidding through thick grass she lost most of her momentum by the time she conked her head on the tree.”

  “You should’ve seen the blood,” Judy said.

  “Shush,” Helen said. “You’ll worry her sisters.”

  They already looked plenty worried to Devlin. As did Rocky and Chloe. Before he could put anyone at ease, his phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, he broke away. “Yeah, Dad.”

  “Have you seen her yet?”

  “Just got here.” He’d called their dad en route. Devlin didn’t want to add to his worries, but at the same time the man deserved to know his mother was in the hospital. “Luke said she’s resting comfortably.”

  “I know. I spoke to him. He put me on with the doctor who assured me, barring unexpected complications, she’ll be okay. Dammit, what was she thinking?”

  “I don’t know, Dad, but I plan to find out.”

  “I should fly up, but I’m worried if she … if she sees me like this … I don’t want to make things worse.”

  “I understand.”

  “But the family will wonder—”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll think of something and let you know.”

  “All right.” He paused, sighed. “Did anyone call Kelly?”

  His dad’s sister. Nash’s mom. The black sheep of the family, she’d been living in Vegas for years. “I spoke to her briefly,” Devlin said. “She won’t be flying in.”

  “Of course not.”

  “But she did ask that we keep her updated.”

  “That’s something, I suppose.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll let you go. Thanks for handling things, Son.”

  Devlin shook off a wave of emotion just as someone touched his arm. His senses told him it wasn’t Rocky or one of his great-aunts, and sure enough, when he turned it was Chloe.

  “I should’ve been there. She invited me along and—”

  “But then she would’ve coerced you into that bike ride as well, and unlike her friends, you would have followed her down that hill.” He grasped her hand, squeezed. “Come on.” Trusting Luke had the others under control, Devlin guided Chloe down the hall. “I know the doctor said no visitors, but we can at least try to peek in.”

  “Look,” Chloe said, nodding down the hall. “Vincent Redding.”

  Devlin spied the owner of Oslow’s stalking toward them as fast as he could, given his chunky stomach and short, stocky legs. He remembered how Chloe had mentioned the possibility that Vince and Daisy were dating. From the harried look on the old man’s face, Devlin could tell there was more to this visit than simple friendly concern.

  Well, damn.

  “Got here as soon as I could,” Vince said, puffing to catch his breath. “Is she okay?”

  “Worse for wear,” Devlin said, “but she’ll live. This time.” Still holding Chloe’s hand, he narrowed his eyes on the man who he now assumed could clear up a few mysteries pertaining to Daisy-I’ve-got-secrets-out-the-wazoo Monroe. He jerked his head toward an outdoor seating area. “I want to talk to you.”

  * * *

  “It started with Jessup’s illness,” Vince said. “Yes, Daisy was brokenhearted when he passed, but what gave her nightmares, what tormented her soul, was watching him waste away.”

  Chloe felt Devlin’s fingers tighten around hers. It was subtle but just enough that she knew he was bothered by Vince’s words. She knew from Monica that Jessup had died from lung cancer. But that had been ten years ago.

  “Not long after, she lost a brother. Over the next five years, she lost a few friends, a sister and a brother-in-law. Two years ago—”

  “Sam’s wife,” Devlin finished. “Ovarian cancer.”

  Chloe hadn’t known the cause. Had she lingered? Suffered? How awful for Sam and his children. Chloe looked at Devlin, but he was focused intently on Vince.

  “It ate at Daisy,” Vince said. “The death. The misery.” He cocked a snowy brow. “Made her question her own mortality. The hereafter.”

  “I had no idea,” Devlin said.

  “No one did. She never talks about it.”

  “Except to you.”

  Vince shrugged. “Daisy’s been shopping at Oslow’s forever. One day not long after Jessup passed, she came in looking for the ingredients to make Chocolate Turtle Cupcakes—I’ll never forget it because she brought me a sample the next day and … yowza. Anyway.” He blew out a breath, spread his meaty hands. “We got talkin’ and we’ve been talkin’ ever since.”

  “Just talking?” Chloe asked.

  “I wanted more. She didn’t. I’m all right with that.”

  Devlin shook his head. “So you’re telling me my grandmother’s been flirting with death because she’s afraid of death?”

  “She’s taking advantage of every opportunity,” Chloe said, “every adventure. Because you never know when your number’s up.”

  Vince clucked his tongue and shot her with a fat finger. “Bingo.”

  “I get that.”

  Devlin looked at her with a raised brow. “You do?”

  “Yeah.” She’d been doing the same thing for the last seventeen years, although her approach had been slightly different.

  “Okay,” Devlin said, “but she didn’t take up this thrill-seeking agenda until last winter.”

  “The snowmobile incident. Mmm. Well.” Vince cleared his throat and looked awa
y. “This is where it gets sort of sticky, because I probably should’ve told someone in the family, but Daisy swore me to secrecy and—”

  “Just spit it out, Vince.”

  “She’ll understand,” Chloe added with a tender smile.

  “I doubt it,” Vince said, “but it’s gone too far, this derring-do crap.” He scratched his beard, nodded, then reestablished eye contact. “Last November, I drove Daisy into Pixley to see the big Christmas tree lighting. Something we’d been doing for the last several years.”

  From Devlin’s expression, Chloe could tell it was yet another thing he’d been unaware of.

  “Daisy started feeling, well, not right. Shortness of breath, sweating, dizziness. I took her straight to the emergency room, here at this hospital. Mild heart attack.”

  Devlin jerked. “What?”

  “It was so mild and caught so early, they treated it with medication. They emphasized her high blood pressure. Gave her a lecture about lifestyle changes and diminishing stress. They told her to consult her regular doctor right away. Only she didn’t want Doc Worton to know, fearing he’d alert the family.”

  “For Christ’s…” Devlin jammed a hand though his hair. “Why wouldn’t she want the family to know?”

  “Because you’d try to take control of her life,” Vince said. “She’d had enough of that from Jessup, and then your dad started imposing his will. Hired that cleaning crew to invade her house every week. Lectured her about wasteful spending. Then you intervened, Devlin. Nagging her about her driving. Insisting she hire someone to do her cooking.”

  Chloe swallowed. “I feel awful.”

  “Don’t,” Vince said. “That’s one thing she did have control over, choosing you, Chloe. She felt”—he shook his head—“feels good about that. About you.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Vince glanced at Devlin, frowned. “As for you—”

  “I interfered,” Devlin said, “because I was worried. She’d become accident prone.”

  “Short-term memory loss,” Vince said. “Scattered thoughts, inability to focus. Side effects of the medication Doc Worton gave her for anxiety. Only he didn’t know about the medicine she was taking for her heart. She refused to tell him, so I talked her into coming clean with Dr. Beane, her physician here in Pixley. I drove her here last week and Dr. Beane gave her the riot act about mixing meds, set her on a new course. I thought everything was okay. But I guess she’s still got … issues.”

  After a moment, Chloe scrambled to break the tense silence. “At least we know what we’re dealing with now.”

  Devlin nodded, extended a hand to the older man. “I appreciate the information.”

  “Just want what’s best for Daisy.”

  Chloe squeezed Vince’s arm, cast Devlin a supporting smile. “We all do.”

  Just then Luke poked his head out the door. “Gram’s awake. Doctor said we can go in four at a time. No more than ten minutes.” He glanced at Vince and Chloe. “Sorry. Family only.”

  Chloe wondered if Vince felt as crummy about that as she did.

  His crestfallen expression said he felt much worse. “I’ll be back tomorrow first thing.”

  “I’ll be in the waiting room,” Chloe said. She’d ridden over with Luke, although she could probably get a lift home from Vince.

  Home.

  She’d been here less than a month and she was already thinking of Sugar Creek in terms of home. Just like she thought about the Monroes as her family. Except they weren’t.

  “I’ll have a word with the doctor,” Devlin said close to her ear as he escorted her back inside. “Get him to make an exception.”

  “What? No,” she said, realizing he’d misinterpreted her troubled expression. “I mean, I’d love to see Daisy, but I don’t want to intrude on family time. If you’re going to bend the rules, you should bend them for Vince.”

  “I’m not feeling particularly generous toward Vince right now.”

  “Breaking his promise to Daisy didn’t come easily.”

  “He shouldn’t have made that promise at all. If we’d known about Gram’s fears, about the heart attack, for Christ’s sake—”

  “His intentions were good,” Chloe said reasonably, her temples throbbing with her own questionable promise. “What would you do if someone you cared about asked you to keep a secret for what they considered good reasons?”

  He glanced away, nodded. “I’ll be out in a few minutes; then I’ll drive you home.”

  There it was again. That word. That sentiment. As if she belonged in Sugar Creek. “It’s going to feel strange, depressing actually, being in that big house without Daisy.”

  Devlin kissed her forehead, before trailing after his brother and sister. “Then you’ll stay with me.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  She should have told him no. Refused politely. Made an excuse. But instead, Chloe quickly packed an overnight bag, shoved her laptop into its tote, and, after locking Daisy’s front door, hurried to rejoin Devlin in his rental car.

  “That was fast.”

  “Yeah, well…” She shrugged, fiddled with her seat belt. Could she be any more anxious to spend the night with this man?

  At the same time, she was nervous about the prospect of sex. She hadn’t been with anyone other than Ryan for close to three years, and their lovemaking hadn’t been all that great. Easy to blame on him, but what if it was her? What if she fizzled in bed? What if she lost her nerve? What was worse? Being considered a lousy lover or a tease?

  “I know I already said this, but don’t worry about entertaining me tonight.” She patted her laptop. “I have a lot of work to do for Cupcake Lovers.”

  “And I need to prepare for tomorrow’s meeting.” He slid her a knowing look. “You don’t have to sleep with me tonight, Chloe. I have an extra bedroom. No pressure. That said, I’m hoping like hell you’ll jump my bones.”

  Chloe laughed, grateful for the tension breaker. “At least I know where you stand.”

  Smiling, he pulled back out onto the street.

  Desperate for neutral, nonsexual ground, Chloe diverted the conversation by broaching Daisy’s state of mind. Mostly Devlin had glossed over his visit—She was only alert five minutes before drifting off—focusing more on Vince’s revelation as well as the doctor’s prognosis. “I’m still having trouble believing Daisy agreed to a caregiver.”

  “Temporarily,” he said. “I didn’t bully her, if that’s what you’re thinking, although I might have if she’d been opposed to reason. The doctor was clear. She’s going to need help for a while. Someone to assist with bathing and dressing. Monitoring medication.”

  “I could’ve done that.”

  “She didn’t want you to. Said you’re a cook, not a caregiver.”

  “That could’ve been the pain meds talking. You said she was groggy. Maybe she’ll change her mind tomorrow, when her mind’s more clear.”

  “Don’t bet on it. She said she needs you in the field.”

  “What does that mean anyway?”

  “I don’t know. I asked, but she turned her attention to Rocky, offering to introduce her to Big Al, since you wouldn’t need him anymore. Then she nodded off.” He cast her another look. “Who’s Big Al?”

  “Not who. What. And I’d rather not say.”

  “Fine,” he teased. “I’ll ask Gram when I visit tomorrow. Rocky’s curious, too.”

  “A vibrator.”

  “What?”

  “Figured you’d rather hear it from me than Daisy.”

  He blinked, then laughed. “Gram tried to hook you up with a vibrator?” He shook his head. “That’s so wrong. Not you and a vibrator. But Gram—”

  “I get it.” Chloe shifted, cheeks burning.

  “Why—”

  “She thought I was … you know, sexually frustrated.”

  “Now she thinks Rocky’s sexually frustrated?”

  “Do you really want to talk about your sister’s sex life?” Please don’t make me pretend no
t to know about Adam and, for God’s sake, Jayce. Devlin had been angry that Vince had kept a secret about Daisy. How would he feel when he learned Chloe had been privy to a family secret as well?

  “Point taken,” he said, and she nearly wilted with relief. “Although sometimes I wonder if she even has a sex life.”

  Chloe barely contained a snort.

  “So why does Gram call it Big Al?”

  She raised one brow. “You really don’t want me to go there.”

  He laughed. “Probably not. So, what do you want for dinner?”

  “Oh, my God, dinner. I totally forgot. I could’ve packed the pork chops I marinated—”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll order in.”

  “I’d be happy to whip up something on the fly.”

  “Except you won’t find much to work with in my fridge and pantry.”

  “Oh, right.” She flashed on the first day they met, sighed. “Don’t you ever get tired of microwavable foods?”

  “Sure. But it’s easy and fast.”

  “And lacking in nutrients.”

  “Hence occasionally ordering in or eating out.”

  “That’s not always healthy either. Except I have to say the Sugar Shack’s menu offers plenty of low-fat and heart-healthy fare.”

  “Luke’s idea. He wanted to offer his customers more than greasy burgers and buffalo wings. I suggested we interview and hire an affordable gourmet chef.”

  “What made you go into the restaurant business anyway?”

  “Luke. He’d always wanted his own bar and restaurant. It’s a social thing. He likes people, being around people, showing them a good time. He’d been bartending at the Sugar Shack, which used to be called Don’s Bar and Grill, for close to five years. When it came up for sale—”

  “He jumped.”

  “It needed a lot of work. He had big ideas and limited funds.”

  “So you invested. Co-owner. But you don’t seem to spend a lot of time there.”

  “I don’t want to step on his toes. It’s his dream. Although I am hands-on with accounting. Luke’s got vision and drive but, in the words of our mom, runs the Shack with his heart, not his head.”