“We can’t really deal with these dramatic events in your life in two short weeks. I know I can get you in touch with some wonderful therapists in Arizona, and I would be—”
Lori raised her hand to stop Cassie “Been there, done that. Too old to start again. I will be all right. I have a supportive family and some good friends. Thank you for your help.”
***
Lori was sitting in the sun parlor reading a book when she heard someone approaching her chair from behind. Before turning around, she recognized the pleasant tone of voice with its full British accent.
“Mrs. Brill, I heard you were leaving London soon, and I wanted to give you a proper good-bye.”
Lori looked up into Geoffrey Holmes’ smiling face as he leaned over to see what she was reading. Her sweater fell off her shoulders and he instantly picked it up and put it back over her arms. His touch quickened her heartbeat.
She patted the wicker chair next to her in a sign for him to sit down. “Geoffrey, what a surprise. How nice to see you!”
Geoffrey heaved a sigh of relief. The whole trip there, he had been anxious and uneasy like a schoolboy on his first date. He sat down on the wicker chair. “You are looking well.”
Lori blushed. “Thank you for fibbing.“ She looked down at her thin body, covered by a common housedress, and realized she was wearing no makeup.
“Much better than you were in hospital.” Geoffrey, dressed in a herringbone blazer over a pair of dark brown pants, hair gray but nicely cut, smile wide, his eyes twinkling, asked, “If you are able to step out, I would like to take you to dinner.”
“You mean this evening?”
“If possible, yes.”
Lori felt flattered by the invitation. “That sounds very nice. I'm not a prisoner here, but I do need to sign out—and touch up a bit.“
Geoffrey offered his arm and helped her up. He became aware of her limp due to the bullet wound, but he never referred to it, not even when she grabbed the slender cane she used to help her walk. Watching her go into her room, he thought, What a sweet, elegant, petite little thing she is. He compared her to his late wife, who was twice Lori's size and very demanding, though he loved her dearly. Both he and his wife came from working class London police families. His stomach twitched nervously at the prospect of having a relationship with Lori, someone of class.
Lori was excited about going out with Geoffrey. From the first day she met him, she found him to be kind and considerate, and she even liked his so very English, Sherlock Holmes look. She quickly rummaged through her closet and pulled out a white silk blouse and a brown tweed skirt, took out her compact, powered her nose, and then applied a coral red lipstick. While inspecting herself in her room mirror, she said a silent blessing for Joan, as it was she who had convinced her to have herself made up, to not let herself go while she was at the facility. She then picked up the room phone and informed the front desk that she was going out with Chief Inspector Holmes.
Geoffrey's usual dining spots were London pubs, but tonight he was going to take Lori to a fancy restaurant in the theater district. He took her arm and helped her out of the rehab facility and into his car. For a change, it was a clear warm spring day.
“Have you been to see any of our plays?” he asked. Geoffrey, contrary to the rest of his family, loved the theater. He probably would have pursued a career working behind the scenes, but all Holmes family members were in the police department, and he was expected to follow.
Lori turned towards him, her lips pressed together, her neck and face tensing immediately. “Truthfully, I've been terrified of going where there are crowds.”
Geoffrey smiled, looked down, and touched her hand. “Lori, you are in a police car with a Chief Inspector, so relax. If you are uncomfortable, we will go to a small, quiet restaurant.”
Lori took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders. “That sounds better, to be perfectly honest.”
They drove for about ten minutes when Geoffrey stopped in front of a small, quaint restaurant called Sarah's Cafe. It was on a narrow road with few businesses around. The valet quickly came over and helped them out of the car. The restaurant proved to be just what he said it would be: comfortable and quiet, and only three tables were occupied.
"I love the red and white checkered tablecloth, and the melted candle looks like it's been here forever." Lori said as they were seated.
"Yes, this place has been here for years. One of my favorite spots."
Lori glanced at the old brick and plaster walls. The walls were mounted with photographs of gaslight London streets, men in top hats, and women with full floor-length frocks. The reference to years was much different in Europe than in the States.
The waiter inquired whether they wanted drinks. "Inspector, do you want your usual?" he asked. Geoffrey had his usual Stout beer, and Lori had a glass of white wine. They ordered a good old-fashioned English meal of boiled potatoes, roast beef with horseradish, and popovers.
They fell into an easy conversation, telling each other about their homes and children. He told her about his family’s long history with the police department.
"I've always wondered where the name Scotland Yard came from. Shouldn't it be called, London Yard? In the States we name our police departments after the city they protect. You do know I am originally from that famous crime city called Chicago."
Holmes stopped to think for a few moments before answering. “The original headquarters was located on Great Scotland Yard, a street within Whitehall. It is believed that stagecoaches bound for Scotland once departed from that street. It goes back to the 17th century, when the street became a site of government buildings. In 1890, Scotland Yard was moved to Victoria Embankment in Westminster, and in 1960, the new modern, twenty-story building was built on 10 Broadway in Westminster. Now, the term Scotland Yard is really used to refer to all of London’s police force, and the building is called New Scotland Yard.”
“You do know your history,” Lori answered admiringly.
“I hope I haven’t bored you. I can get carried away with details.”
“No, of course not. I love to explore the history of the places I visit, though Scotland Yard and the hospital were not on my original itinerary when I left for London so many weeks ago.”
They exchanged a knowing glance.
The waiter stopped at their table. “Dessert?”
“Just coffee, with a touch of milk,” Lori answered, while Geoffrey asked for a hot kettle of tea with cream and sugar.
Geoffrey leaned forward. “What have you missed that you planned to do in London before disaster hit?”
“The theater, of course. London has the best theater and the most professional actors in the world,” she answered enthusiastically.
“Perhaps I could take you to see a play some day next week, before your flight home.”
“That would be lovely,” she answered.
“I will call your mobile when I get the tickets. Do you like mysteries?”
“I loved them before I came to London. Now I would be very happy to never see, read, or hear about a murder mystery again.”
Geoffrey shook his head. “What a careless sod I’ve been.”
Lori put her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about it. Actually, I use to take pride in solving the mystery before the play or book ended.”
“How would you solve the murder of your friend Josh Wheeler? Do you believe Roland killed him?”
“Roland is very capable of the murder. He murdered that poor chauffeur in cold blood, and he threatened to murder my granddaughter and me. And what he did to poor Suzi…” Lori shook her head. “He killed a couple of your men, I hear. I am sorry, Geoffrey. He was cruel and brutal, but he never talked about murdering Josh, and he loved to brag about his brutal accomplishments. I think it would have been hard for him to quietly slip into the room, or especially out of the room.”
“Interesting. The Yank agrees with you, and he has asked us to pursue some other evidence he’
s found. It could be, I have my suspicions, that someone above me wants to clear the case and is using Roland as the sacrificial lamb.”
“Roland is hardly a lamb. He is more like the devil.” Lori picked up her fork and continued to nibble on what was left of her dinner.
Geoffrey changed the subject. “Never been to Arizona, but when I retire next year I would consider a trip to the States.
The waiter stopped at the table with a plate of tea cookies. "Complimentary for our Chief.”
Lori bit into a cookie, and smiled at the waiter. She leaned in towards Geoffrey. “I would enjoy showing you around my home. It is very different from London, and even from Chicago, my place of birth.”
At one point, Geoffrey stopped and watched her intently, trying to decide if he should tackle the elephant in the room. Finally, he said, “Lori, you've been through a horrendous ordeal. Do not expect to get over it right away. It will take time.“
Lori put her elbows on the table, folded her hands together, took a deep breath, pressed her lips together for a moment to collect her thoughts, and in a cracked voice, she answered, “I know. I've had to deal with tragedy before.”
Geoffrey did not say anything, but his gaze was sympathetic, while Lori just sat there, quiet.
After a few seconds, she put her arms down and looked into Geoffrey's large brown eyes.
“I want you to know I am not a loose woman who falls into anyone's bed. In fact, in the last ten years since my husband died, I haven't been with anyone, except for that one night with Josh. I must have been out of my mind when I went with him to the hotel. I acted like a teenager instead of an old lady of seventy."
“Lori,” Geoffrey began, but she hushed him.
“Geoffrey, I want to finish. Josh Wheeler had a strange hold on me since I was a little girl, and—”
He stopped her. “Lori, you don’t have to tell me anymore. From the first minute I met you, I knew you were a lady. I’m hoping we can be good friends even though we will be miles apart.”
Lori smiled. Geoffrey glanced up as the waiter who leaned down and offered them a complimentary after-dinner drink. They declined and asked for the check. Geoffrey paid the check, helped Lori up, and they walked out together arm in arm.
***
Lori had enjoyed her evening with Geoffrey. He was a kind person and a good listener. Throughout her life, she had known that friends in one’s own age group made the best shrinks. She had missed that in London. Cate, the doctors, and the therapists had all tried hard to help her get through her ordeal, but it was hard for her to open up to souls so much younger than she was. Had she and Geoffrey lived closer together, their friendship might have had a chance to develop into something else.
Two days after her dinner with Inspector Holmes, Lori was packed and ready to leave Lyons Rehab facility. Cassie was keeping her company until Cate arrived.
“Are you still experiencing the nightmares?” Cassie asked. “I could give you a prescription for more sleeping pills.”
“No, thank you. Yes, sometimes during the night I see a young Josh with his heart-stopping smile, and then I get a horrifying flash of his face blown apart. When my daughter died, I was hooked on pills for migraines, but I really used them to wipe out. I wouldn’t go that route again.” She told herself that she would not go the therapy route again either. She was old and tough, and she could handle anything now. She remembered the motto they had at Children’s Memorial Hospital: Take one day at a time.
Cassie gave Lori papers to sign her out of the clinic, plus some brochures on the care of her leg and lists of books concerning ways to deal with being a victim in a tragedy. If the nightmares continued, she told her to seek help in the States.
“You went through quite a lot between Wheeler’s death and your kidnapping. You mentioned feeling your body floating during the surgery.”
“Yes, I guess I went from stage one, denial, to the last stage, acceptance. I was ready to join my dead family and friends, but my mother would not let me go. She sent me back to the operating table.” There was much Lori couldn’t tell Cassie, who was trying so hard, but she was too young to counsel someone who had been through hell before and come back. There was an endless knot in her heart that wouldn’t go away. She had come to terms with her cold mother and her alcoholic husband, she couldn't block out the death of her child, the witness of her friend being murdered and a relative being raped right in front of her, and her own kidnapping. She was afraid and paranoid all the time, but thank God she was a good actress. There are some blessings with age. One is senility and loss of memory. It should help her survive!
Cassie called for someone to help with Lori’s luggage. They moved outside into the warm spring weather and waited for Cate to come. A flock of bluebirds flew high over the tall ancient treetops, and a red squirrel ran by close to their chairs. Lori inhaled the scents of jasmine and delphinium from the adjacent garden.
Cassie, still worried about Lori, kept her therapy going up to the last minute.
“Lori, are you coming back for the trial of the murderer?”
“Depends on which murder they are trying Roland on. I saw him murder Bly, so they would need me to testify." She shuddered as the memory re-surfaced. "If he confessed to the murder of Wheeler, they may try him on that one. I need to put everything here behind me. I never want to see Roland again. They have my testimony about Josh’s murder, and I agreed to be interviewed by Internet and to come back only if it is necessary. In addition, I am concerned about Suzi, though her Chinese family is here with her. Her chances of coming out of the coma are slim, but there is still hope, I suppose. I am really dreaming of sitting on my patio in Arizona, sipping lemonade and admiring the mountains.”
She did not mention that it would be nice to see Geoffrey again, even though she thought about it. Life is all about timing.
Cate appeared, Lori got up, hugged Cassie. "Thank you for your help. You are a fine young therapist. This is not an easy place to work."
Cassie beamed upon hearing Lori's praise. Cate helped her grandmother into the car, put her suitcase in the boot, and started down the highway. She chattered excitably about everything, but mainly about going home in a week. Suddenly, she swerved the car around and into a parking space in front of a small Italian café, while Lori hung on to the door for dear life.
“Gram, the apartment is a mess with all my packing. Let’s stop for lunch here. It’s one of the best Italian restaurants in all of London.”
Cate led Lori out of the car and helped her sit down at one of the small wrought iron tables on the patio. The restaurant, situated in a quaint shopping center nestled among white stone buildings, was quiet, as it was an odd time of day between lunch and dinner. Schoolchildren walked by in their tidy white and navy uniforms. An elderly woman with a dachshund sat at the table next to them. She ordered lemonade for herself and water for the dog, who suddenly took off after a ball one of the schoolboys tossed down the road. Cate helped retrieve the dog.
Lori watched her run down the road. She looked like a young girl in her tight shirt and Capri pants, all bubbly and animated. Something is going on with my granddaughter, Lori thought.
Wearing a blue dress adorned with a long shell necklace, plump and pretty with a wide smile on her face, the server approached the table after Cate returned. "Anything to drink?"
"I'd like to see the wine menu. Gram, would you drink some red wine?"
Lori turned toward Cate. “Okay, honey, wine in the afternoon? What’s up?”
“Oh, Gram,” Cate sighed, “I’m so glad to be going home. It is time to put the last month behind us. Let's celebrate."
The waitress came back with a wine and regular menu. They ordered.
“Did you accept the job in Washington, where Jordan works?” Lori asked, as she played with the brochettes appetizer.
“Yes,” Cate answered with a wicked smile. “Besides Jordan being in D.C., the East Coast is where the action is, and I want to be a part of it. I�
�m not heartless. I didn’t trade Joseph for Jordan. I kept putting off getting engaged to Joseph because something was missing-a spark a chemical connection. Also his way of life wasn’t what I want. Gram, you were at the Lunt estate. Could you see me sitting in that castle, living in the shadow of my husband, Lord So-n-So? I want to achieve things on my own.”
Lori smiled. She was feeling remote and old, wondering where her dreams and enthusiasm for life had gone. Was she too much into reality, too damaged by life? Right now, escaping into a castle and being waited on didn’t seem so terrible. She understood that Cate came from the new woman’s mold: educated, independent, and financially able to take care of herself.
Lori then realized her granddaughter was waiting for a response from her. “Jordan has that missing ingredient?”
Cate grabbed Lori’s hands. “Yes! I was fighting him all along. Then, a few days ago, we got together, and, well, it was wonderful. I’ll take it slower this time, even though my heart throbs the minute Jordan is near me.”
The glimmer in Cate’s eyes and her lively conversation about Jordan sent Lori back to the days when she was young and in love. She remembered the longing, the anticipation, the pleasures and the pain of young love. She smiled, but inside she was worried. She thought about Josh, and she hoped Jordan would not end up hurting Cate. Then again, Cate was tough.
“Honey, I can’t see you and Jordan doing anything at a slow pace!”
The server opened the wine, and Cate winked at Lori and took a long sip.
“Bellissimo!”
Chapter 25
Lori had, once again, been invited to lunch with Joseph’s father, Lord Lunt, but this time she refused to be picked up by his new chauffeur. Instead, Cate drove her out to their estate, which was about an hour’s drive from London.
Cate planned to go into the village to do some shopping after she dropped Lori off at the Lunt estate. Since she and Joseph had broken up, she felt it would be better if she stayed clear of his family. Lori got out of Cate’s car by the front door of Greyhall Manor, and Cate quickly drove on. About a quarter mile past the house, out by the open garden, Cate stopped the car and watched Lady Lunt’s two young grandchildren playing croquet with their governess. Both were dressed like little princes, and they hardly moved. She shook her head, hit the gas pedal hard, and disappeared, thinking to herself, Never could I have made myself live in that early nineteenth century make-believe atmosphere.
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