I didn’t need someone breaking in during the early hours of the morning. Putting aside the fact that I’d had it, I was in no shape for battling a burglar. One hand was swollen to the size of a catcher’s mitt and my sprained ankle could only be stood upon with the help of support wrap, crutches, and Advil®.
I turned on the light with my good hand then reached under the pillow for the Tomcat. Releasing the safety, I aimed the gun at the door, and yelled out.
“Listen, if you are Sharise or anyone else, fair warning. I have a gun. And the mood I’m in, I’m going to shoot first and ask questions later. So just turn around and leave, please. Save us both a lot of trouble.”
“Lee, darling, it’s me,” someone said from outside the bedroom door. “Don’t shoot. It’s me.”
“Gurn?”
I sat upright, paralyzed by the familiar voice. Gurn appeared in the doorway, still dressed in fatigues. He dropped his canvas bag on the floor and took off his cap. His face was scratched and his right eye was multi-colored and puffy. Over his right eyebrow was a cut, closed with a butterfly clamp. He smiled his beautiful lopsided smile, as he limped toward the bed, took the revolver from my frozen hand, and set it on the nightstand. Then we both spoke simultaneously, as we reached for each other.
“Dios mio, what happened to you?”
“What happened to your hand, darling?”
We went into an embrace. I felt his warmth and love, and began to cry in the crook of his neck.
“Darling, darling Lee. Don’t cry. I told you I’d be back. Shhh, darling, shhh. Don’t cry.”
“I can’t help it,” I sobbed. “I’m so happy.”
“I’m happy, too.”
We broke free and covered one another’s faces with kisses. I heard plaintive meowing at our side. Baba and Tugger were vying for attention. Gurn leaned over and picked up a cat in each hand.
“Come here, you two.” He hugged both cats, set Tugger down, and rubbed the side of his face free of scratches against Baba. “How’s my second best girl?”
I could hear her purring a response in his arms. I did some purring of my own, while I looked at him. I reached out and touched one of the scratches with my fingertips.
“Your face. Your handsome, beautiful face. What happened?”
He didn’t brush my question off the way he usually did. “Fortunes of War. Got a bruised heel, black eye, and several cuts out of it. Could have been a lot worse. I didn’t lose any men. Who’s this Sharise?”
“An escaped murderess. She’s killed five people and when the police tried to apprehend her, she jumped into the Bay off Tiburon. That was several hours ago. Oh, yeah, and she tried to kill me, too, but that’s another story.”
He dropped Baba to the bed, his face taking on a look of surprise and appreciation. “You do get around, don’t you?”
I gave him the highlights of the past few days then reached out for a long and lingering kiss. “You’re here. You’re really here. But you’re back earlier than the admiral said. How did that happen? I can’t believe it. Merry Christmas to me!”
Gurn laughed and stroked my cheek. “I got lucky. It went better than planned. Then there was a transporter that had space for one more and was leaving in fifteen minutes. I think Vice Admiral Saks had something to do with it. I didn’t even have time to change or take a shower. But I only wanted to get back to you.”
I wrapped my arms around him. “Thank you. Bless you. Bless him. I was…worried.”
“I know. We’ll talk about that later. There’s been a development.” He looked first at my swollen, black and blue hand then down at my bound ankle. “Your own fortunes of war?”
I nodded. “Sprained ankle. And the hand, well, no breaks but significant bruising. How about I give you the blow by blow when you come out of the shower?”
“Am I taking a shower?”
“A nice, long one.”
“Do I smell that bad?”
“Yes.”
He got up, turned away, and stripped off his jacket then his shirt. On his back were several big bruises of his own, some turning yellowish. I thought about the bruise on my back from being thrown on the metal cleat by Sharise. I suppressed the urge to laugh. Gurn turned back to me with a grin on his face.
“What?”
“Just look at the two of us. And we’re walking down the aisle day after tomorrow. What a couple.” I laughed again then sobered. “Actually, don’t take too long a shower. Jake’s funeral starts at nine. You know about that?”
“Yes, I read about it on the plane. Damn shame.”
“Your parents arrive a few hours later. And in between there’s something I need to do.”
“Sounds like a full day.”
“And then some. We should try to get some sleep.”
He took off his pants and stood in his jockey shorts observing me for a time. Both cats stared up at me, as well. Gurn dropped the last of his fatigues on the floor before he spoke.
“Whatever you’re involved in; it’s not over yet, is it?”
“No.”
“Are you going to let me help you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be out in ten minutes.”
“Make it five.”
I waggled my eyebrows at him. Gurn waggled his eyebrows at me. Cats, just watching.
Seed investing is the status symbol of Silicon Valley. Most people
don't want Ferraris, they want a winning seed investment.
Sam Altman
Chapter Thirty-three
The next thing I knew there was a pounding on the front door. My mother called out repeatedly.
“Liana! Liana! Wake up! Something dreadful has happened.”
We heard the front door open and her high heels clomping down the hallway, which was unusual. My mother is not a clomper by nature. A moment later the door to the bedroom burst open. Stiff and sore, Gurn and I untwined ourselves from each other, tried to sit up, and gaped at Mom. She stood in the doorway gaping back. She seemed so shocked, she could say nothing. Gurn spoke up.
“Good morning, Lila. What time is it?”
“Gurn, you’re back. It’s seven-thirty,” Mom stuttered. Another first.
“Yes, ma’am. I got in early this morning.”
Mom’s shocked expression turned to pleasure then concern. She moved to the foot of the bed, scrutinizing Gurn like he was a flawed diamond.
“Welcome back, dear boy, but what has happened to your face?”
“Hi, Mom,” I said meekly. I think I waved with my good hand.
“Just a little run in with barbed wire. I lost.”
“Other than that, you are well, Gurn?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Hi, Mom,” I repeated.
“Although, you look frightful.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Not that it matters now. Nothing matters.”
Mom let out a huge sigh, and sank down at the foot of the bed, disrupting Tugger and Baba’s snoozing. Being the smart animals they were, they jumped off and scurried under the bed.
I looked at Mom in surprise. Since she’d entered the room her behavior was highly unusual for the Lila Hamilton Alvarez I knew. Here was a lady who believed proper etiquette was the thirteenth commandment. For her to be so overwrought as to sit down on a bed in front of a gentleman who wasn’t her husband meant something beyond awful had happened. Dare I say it? Catastrophic.
“Mom, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, there you are, Liana.” Another deep sigh exuded from the woman. “Well, I don’t know any other way to tell you both. The wedding is off.” She then repeated in a softer tone, “The wedding is off.”
“Our wedding?”
“Yes, Liana. It’s off.” She held her face in her hands emitting yet another sigh.
“Excuse me,” I said, turning to Gurn. “Did you call the wedding off?”
He shook his head. “Did you?”
I shook my head. We turned back to Mo
m.
“The bride and groom did not call the wedding off, Mom. So who did?”
And then my mother, Miss Aristocratic Palo Alto Blueblood, also known as the Ice Princess, burst into tears so strong, the bed shook. Between sobs she said,
“The church burned down!”
One of the nice things about living in Silicon Valley
is that I end up at all these conferences and things,
and I get to listen in on the zeitgeist.
Rick Smolan
Chapter Thirty-four
I sat back, dumbfounded. Gurn threw back the covers, thankfully wearing pajamas because that’s not always the case. He hobbled to comfort my mother at the end of the bed.
“It’ll be all right Lila. We’ll make this all right.”
Mom looked down. “What happened to your leg?”
“Bruised heel. It’ll be all right in a couple of days.”
I got out of bed, snatched my crutch, and limped toward my mother and husband-to-be. Mom was watching me out of the corner of her eye.
“Oh, my God. This just gets worse and worse.” She turned from me to Gurn, horror written on her usually placid features. “You have scratches all over your face and a black eye --”
“Did it turn black now? I was afraid it was going to do that.”
“And Liana has a black and blue hand.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you both are lame.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She looked at him. She looked at me. Then she turned her face up to the heavens.
“Why is this happening to me? Why does everything happen to me?”
I don’t think Job could have said it better.
“We can make this all right, Mom,” I said. “Just wait and see. The worst is over.”
“No, it’s not,” she countered.
“Maybe not, but everything’s going to wind up fine,” I chirped.
Gurn sat down beside her and gave her a big hug. I sat down on the other side of my mother and followed suit. My crutch fell to the floor with a thud. I ignored it.
“Exactly,” said Gurn, copying my chirp. “In a couple of weeks, we’ll both be fine.”
“That does me no good at all,” Mom said. “The wedding is day after tomorrow. You two look like you should be in a hospital, not walking down the aisle, if there was an aisle to walk down, which there isn’t, because the church has burned down. Well, not the entire church, just the interior. The wind blew over a candle and up it went. What wasn’t destroyed by the fire was decimated by the water from the firemen’s hoses.”
She withdrew a lace hanky from her sleeve and delicately blew her nose into it. We each patted her gingerly on a shoulder. She shook us off, stood, and wheeled around to face us, anger usurping her sorrow.
“People are showing up for a wedding that isn’t going to happen. And from all over the world.”
“The world? Who’s coming from the world, Mom?”
“The Governor General of Punjab. He was an old friend of your father’s.”
“The one with the elephant!” I turned to Gurn, wonderful childhood memories overtaking me. “When I was a kid and we went to India, I sat in a howdah on top of the elephant and rode him all around the courtyard. It was a great elephant; so gentle. I wish the General was bringing the elephant. We could have rides and --”
“Liana.” Mom’s voice was low and frosty, yet ironically tinged with hysteria. “Never mind the elephant. I don’t want to hear another word about the elephant.”
“Okay, Mom. No elephant, no rides, cool with me.”
“Be quiet and let me think; I need to think.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“We’ll never live this down.” Mom paced at the end of the bed, shaking her head and wringing her hands. “This is a catastrophe.”
“Oh, that word,” I muttered. “Everyone keeps using that word.” I wracked what little of my brain was left to wrack. “Wait! I‘ve got it! We’ll move the wedding and reception here.”
I looked at Gurn for approval. His eyes lit up. Or his one good eye lit up. The other remained swollen, black and blue.
“Of course,” he said. “Why not?”
“There’s not enough room for one hundred and fifty people.” Mom thought for a moment. “Is there enough room?” She calmed down. “I suppose we could set up a tent, with tables and chairs, over the pool for the reception. But there isn’t enough room for the ceremony there, as well. Where would we have that?”
“Inside the house, Mom! It’ll be a little cramped; maybe they’ll have to stand, but people will understand. We’ll just call everybody and reroute the whole thing. We’ll have to tell the padre - although he probably knows his church burned down - but the caterers and florist --”
“Most of the flowers went up with the church,” Mom interrupted, picking up her pacing routine with vigor. “At my insistence, Gaston delivered them last night to store in the basement. I’d thought it would be better to have the potted plants on hand. All the water the firemen used to put out the fire flooded the basement. Gaston is livid. He’ll never do another arrangement for me again.”
Mom thought Gaston was a genius with cut flowers. I thought he was a blooming idiot.
She turned to us, arms opened wide in supplication. “Where are we going to get two hundred pots of gardenias by day after tomorrow? I secured all there were in the Bay Area. I struggled to find those two hundred.”
“They don’t have to be gardenias, Mom.”
“Of course, they do,” she said, inconsolable. “They’re your favorite flower. I visualized the vestibule and chapel filled with pots and pots of gardenias, the scent of them filling the air, as you walked through the rose covered arch and down the aisle.”
“Before everyone passed out from the smell,” I murmured.
“Not to worry,” Gurn put in, trying to override my aside and make things right. “I know a florist in D.C. He can fly some gardenias in and do last minute floral arrangements, if you want. I’ll call him right now.”
Gurn jumped up, or as close as he could come to jumping up in his condition, and reached for his phone. He headed for the living room, phone in hand, closing the door behind him. I looked at my mother, back to her hand wringing and pacing, now in double-time. I stood and tried to catch up with her, hopping in her direction holding my bad ankle off the floor.
“Mom, as long as I have Gurn, you, Richard, Tío, and my friends, I don’t need gardenias. I’ll limp along,” I said pointing to my upheld ankle.
She stopped and faced me. “Oh, Liana, how brave.”
She embraced me with enthusiasm, which threw me off balance. As I wobbled, I decided not to say anything. Here was a prickly woman on overload, if ever there was one. She broke out in a smile for the first time.
“You’re right, dear. We must soldier on. What choice do we have, actually? I suppose this isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a person.”
“No, it isn’t, Mom,” I said, thinking of Skye who had a dead father and a mother who was probably in the digestive system of a Great White. Then I watched my mother switch gears into her Ruler Of The Universe mode. Stand back, everybody. Lila Hamilton Alvarez coming through.
“You have inspired me, Liana. I will not let this situation get the better of me. If only the Wedding Planner hadn’t quit midstream. So unprofessional.” Mom’s self-righteous indignation filled the air.
“Mom, you were going behind her back and countermanding everything she did. And you kept telling her what to do with her other wedding. A groom has the right to wear a plaid cummerbund, if he wants.”
With her selective listening feature in full swing, Mom didn’t hear me.
“I know. I’ll simply prevail upon all available staff at Discretionary to help out in this catastrophe.”
“There’s that the word again.” I held up the forefinger of my working hand. “But that’s a good idea. I know everybody at D. I. …ah….Discretionary will help.”
“We’ll notify everyone attending of the change in location. I’ll have to find a large tent, tables and chairs, but that should be no problem. I have the day before me. It will cost extra, of course.” She let out a martyr’s sigh before continuing. “But I accept my reversal of fortune with aplomb.”
“Good girl,” I murmured under my breath. Again not hearing me, Mom went on.
“Our kitchen should be large enough to accommodate the caterer. I’ll hire extra people to help with the set up, too. We’ll have to do a lot of rearranging of the living, dining, and family rooms to make way for the folding chairs. We can probably move the larger pieces of furniture into Gurn’s new studio, except for the piano. The rest can go upstairs.”
“Gurn’s studio? I’d forgotten about that. Is it done?”
“Yes, yesterday afternoon. And thank goodness it’s empty. Because we can’t leave the furniture outside. It’s raining again; predicted for the next three days.” She looked up again at the ceiling. “Which is all I need.”
Another Job moment, but she rallied.
“The bridesmaids could make their entrance down the grand staircase and through the rose archway, followed by you. Thank heaven the archway is still at Gaston’s. I am so glad I had the stairs re-varnished last year --”
“Yes, down the grand staircase, just me and my crutches,” I interrupted.
“Oh, dear.” She looked me up and down. “We may have to accommodate your injuries for the ceremony.”
“Gurn’s, too. He’s not walking much better than me. We could rent a couple of Segways.” She stared at me. “You know, those two-wheeled, self-balancing, battery operated…” I broke off because she continued to stare. I stuttered on. “You stand on them and they cart you around.”
“I am aware of what they are, Liana. I’m not having anything like that at my wedding.” She tapped her chin with an ever-manicured finger. “Although your mobility does present a problem.”
The CEO Came DOA (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries Book 5) Page 22
