by Maria Geraci
Grace checked the thermostat. It was set at seventy, as usual. “Do you want me to get a fan?”
“Nah, don’t bother, let’s just get down to it. What did you want to talk to me about?”
Grace glanced at her watch. It wasn’t one thirty yet so she couldn’t even blame Charlie for being late, but damn him anyway. This was his idea. How could he do all the talking if he wasn’t here?
“Perhaps I should start, sir,” Brandon said.
Pop took a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his forehead.
Brandon handed her father a business card. He began with a history of his investment group and then went into the current status of the local real estate market. Brandon was smooth and professional, but Pop didn’t appear to be listening and Brandon noticed. “Sir, is there something wrong?”
“Other than the fact that it’s hot as hell in here?”
Grace felt a moment’s alarm. It wasn’t like her father to use that tone of voice.
“Grace, maybe you should go get that fan,” Brandon suggested.
“Of course.” Grace rose from her chair and pulled out the box fan she kept in her office closet. She set the fan to high.
“That’s better,” Pop said, but he didn’t look any better. If anything, he looked worse. Why was his face so red?
Brandon gave her a look that Grace couldn’t read. “I think we should wait till your brother gets here before we go on.”
“Good idea,” Grace said.
Pop didn’t say anything. Which wasn’t like him.
“Pop, are you okay? Did you take your blood pressure medicine this morning?”
“Your father has high blood pressure?”
“I’m right here so you two can stop talking about me like I’m not. And yeah, I took my pills this morning. But I have to admit, I feel . . . dizzy. Must be this heat.”
“Pop, maybe you should lie down.”
He placed his palm against his cheek. “And my face feels numb . . .”
Brandon jumped from his chair. “Do you keep a blood pressure cuff in the office?” he asked Grace. “Or an AED machine?”
“A what?”
“Sir, let’s get you down on the ground.”
The scary part was that Pop didn’t argue. He let Brandon ease him to the floor. “Grace,” Brandon said in a low voice, “does your father have a history of heart attacks?”
Oh my God.
Grace snatched up the phone and dialed 911.
“The ambulance is on its way, Pop.” She knelt next to her father and touched her hand over his forehead. It felt clammy.
“My chest . . .” he said. “It feels like I’m being . . . crushed.”
“Sir, do you have any nitroglycerin tablets?” Brandon asked.
“At the house,” Pop said between breaths.
Brandon looked Grace in the eye. “Do you keep aspirin in here?”
Grace ran to her desk, flung open the top drawer and handed the aspirin to Brandon. Between the two of them they were able to help Pop get down a pill.
Tears welled in Grace’s eyes. “This is just like before,” she whispered to Brandon. “He said the same thing before, about his chest . . .”
Brandon clasped Grace’s hand and gave it a strong squeeze. “His breathing is a little heavy and his pulse is fast, but it’s steady. I’m going to let the store employees know what’s going on and get the customers to clear their cars out of the way so the ambulance can park as close as possible to the door. I’ll be right back.”
Thank God the paramedics arrived quickly. They checked Pop’s vital signs, placed some oxygen on him, and transferred him to a stretcher.
“Can I go with him?” Grace asked.
“Sorry, ma’am, there’s no room in the ambulance,” one of the paramedics told her.
Brandon placed his hand on her elbow. “We’ll follow them to the hospital in my car.”
Penny and Stella and the rest of the store employees stood back, wide-eyed, and watched as the EMS personnel pulled Pop through the store on the stretcher.
“Penny,” Grace shouted on her way out the door. “Call Mami and Charlie and let them know what happened!”
“I hate hospitals,” Grace said, putting her quarters into a coffee machine. A foam cup plopped right side up. A steady stream of questionable brown liquid shot directly inside, stopping a half inch short of the top. How eerily precise, Grace thought. Then she thought how weird it was that she’d be thinking of a coffee dispensing machine at all. But then she’d had a lot of time to think in the past four hours they’d spent in the ER waiting room. Like how lucky they were to still have Pop.
The thought that they’d almost lost him made Grace shudder. She handed Brandon the cup.
“Thanks. Are you sure you don’t want it?”
“Sarah went to get Starbucks. I’ll wait for the real thing.”
He drained the coffee in a couple of gulps. Grace both grimaced and marveled at the fortitude of his stomach. Noticing her reaction, he said, “I used to live on worse stuff than this in college.”
“Well, I owe you a real cup of coffee. And a lot more than that for all your help. You were great back there with Pop.”
She still couldn’t get over how efficiently Brandon had handled everything. And how he’d insisted on staying to keep Grace company through the ER wait. Grace had taken a CPR course after Pop’s heart attack. Precious little good that had done. In her panic, she hadn’t even remembered what an AED machine was. She thought back to how she’d walked out on her date with Brandon and then refused to accept his apology despite the flowers and the Dom Perignon. He’d made a big effort to win her over and she’d been unfair to him.
“I think you would have made a great doctor. You have a really nice bedside manner.”
“That’s what all the girls say.”
Grace smiled. The night they’d had their business dinner at Chez Louis, she’d wondered how things might have gone between them if they’d never had that disastrous date at the Wobbly Duck. Now, she couldn’t help but wonder how things might be if Joe wasn’t in the picture.
Brandon Farrell is your Mr. Darcy, she heard Ellen’s voice whisper in her ear. And Joe is your Mr. Wickham.
Grace’s smile vanished. What a traitorous thought.
“Will you excuse me?” she said to Brandon. “I need to make a phone call.”
“Actually, I need to get back to the office. Call me if anything changes in your dad’s condition. Promise?”
Grace reached out impulsively to hug him. “Thanks again. You were terrific.”
He looked embarrassed, but pleased. “No need to thank me. I’m just glad I was there to help.”
She waited till he was gone to dial Joe on his private office line.
“Hey, we still on for tonight?” he asked.
“Joe . . . my dad’s in the emergency room.”
“Is he all right? What’s going on?”
“At first, they thought he might be having a heart attack, but now they think maybe his blood pressure got too high, although they’ve ruled out a stroke. We were at the store and he was feeling dizzy, and—” She was going to tell him about Brandon and his role in the whole thing, then thought better of it. “Anyway, my mom and my brother are with him and the doctor just updated us. They’re going to keep him overnight and run a few tests. The doctor says he’s stable and that we can all go home, but I’m going to stay anyway.”
“I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
Grace felt a moment’s panic. She’d hadn’t expected that. For some reason, her throat refused to cooperate. The silence seemed to drag on forever, although in reality it couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds.
“Or not,” he said.
“It’s not that I don’t want you here,” she said. “It’s just . . . my grandmother and Charlie and Sarah and Ellen and Penny are all here, and we’re having to take turns going in to see him, so it’s kind of a madhouse.”
“Sure,
I understand. It’s a time for family. And close friends. Keep me posted, will you? And Grace, please call me if you need anything,” he said before hanging up.
Grace thought about their phone call for the rest of the evening. Why hadn’t she wanted Joe to come to the hospital? The girls knew Grace and Joe were dating. And Mami and Pop and even Abuela had already met him the day he’d come to Florida Charlie’s. But she’d introduced him as a friend, not a boyfriend. If Joe were to come to the hospital, it would be like some sort of unspoken announcement. And the truth was, she just wasn’t ready for that.
23
It’s Raining Men
“An anxiety attack? The hell it was,” Pop grumbled for the hundredth time today. “I know a heart attack when I have one, and I was most definitely having a heart attack!”
He was lying on the living room couch, where Mami had insisted he stay at risk of death—by her own hands—if he dared exert himself. He’d been discharged from the hospital this morning after all his test results had come back negative. Most people would have been thrilled. Not Pop.
“Charlie, be grateful it was what it was,” Mami said. “Now lean forward so I can fluff the pillows behind your head.”
“Ana, did you not hear the man? He said I was a nutcase! All I can say is, thank God they let me out when they did if all those fancy tests and machines of theirs can’t tell when a person is having a genuine heart attack. The damn place should be investigated for fraud.”
“Pop, the doctor never said you were a nutcase,” Grace said. She tried to halt a yawn from escaping, but it was impossible. She’d spent the night in the hospital waiting room, along with Mami and Charlie. They were all exhausted, although lack of sleep was only a partial reason. Most of the exhaustion came from trying to keep Pop calm.
“What do I have to be anxious about? My life is perfect. I have a beautiful wife, a successful son, a house, a business, and my own little Tomato who saved me from almost certain death yesterday.”
“I didn’t do anything other than call the ambulance, Pop. Brandon was the one who kept it all together.”
“Nice young man,” Pop said. He picked up the remote and began flipping channels. “Who was he again?”
“He’s Charlie’s friend.”
“Is he trying to sell us something?”
“Uh, not exactly.”
“In that case, you have my permission to marry him.”
“Thanks, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know that.”
Grace rose from her chair and headed to the kitchen to find Charlie and Abuela walking through the door. They’d just come back from church, where Abuela had gone to light a candle for Pop.
“Now that I have the Virgin working on your father’s recovery, I’m going to get some sleep,” Abuela said, giving Grace a kiss on the cheek. “Good work yesterday, mi amor. You saved your father’s life.”
Grace would protest, but she’d already done it a dozen times since yesterday and Abuela refused to belittle Grace’s part in getting Pop to the hospital. She waited till Abuela was gone. “So now what?” she asked Charlie.
“I don’t know. What do you think? Wait till Pop feels better, then try again?”
“Try again? You weren’t there. You didn’t see how his face got all red and sweaty. It was awful!”
“You can’t blame his anxiety attack on Farrell’s offer. From what I hear, he never got around to actually mentioning it.”
“You talked to Brandon?”
“He called me this morning to find out how Pop was doing. I think he plans to call you later this afternoon.” Charlie looked pleased.
“Brandon isn’t the guy I went out with the other night, Charlie.”
“Damn.”
“Back to Pop. I don’t think we should bring up Brandon’s offer again until we know the cause of this stress he’s under.”
Charlie raked a hand through his hair. “Okay, I’m going to leave this up to you. If you don’t think Pop can handle it, then we’ll drop the whole thing and let the store run its course.”
Leave the whole thing up to her? It didn’t seem fair that it would all fall on her shoulders. Option one: risk Pop’s health by bringing up the offer and potentially stretch the store’s life by another three years and ensure her family’s financial security. Or option two: keep Pop in the dark about the offer and let the store continue on its downward slide.
Neither option seemed good.
Grace spied the familiar tan Toyota Corolla parked in front of her town house and moaned. She was in no mood to deal with whatever this might mean.
The second he saw her pull in the driveway, Felix hopped out of his car and jogged up to meet her.
“Felix, what are you doing here?”
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.”
Grace raised a brow.
“Okay, so maybe I wasn’t exactly in the neighborhood. I got tired of waiting for your phone call so I thought I’d take some action.”
“Uh-huh.” Grace fiddled with the keys to her town house. Would it be horribly rude to just walk past Felix and ignore him?
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“No.”
“Grace, I’ve thought long and hard about what happened between us. I was an ass. An idiot. A moron. Like I said before, if I could take that night back, I would. Baby, I’m sorry. Please, will you give me another chance?”
Did Felix actually have tears in eyes? No way. But he definitely had his sad face on. The one that seemed genuine.
“Felix,” she said, trying to gentle her voice, “thanks for the apology. I accept it because I think you truly couldn’t help yourself, but maybe this is a lesson hard learned. The next time you have a girlfriend, don’t cheat on her.”
“That’s it?” he asked incredulously. “You aren’t even going to try? Baby, what we had was a once-in-a-lifetime love.”
Grace had to bite into the inside of her cheek, otherwise the delirium caused by no sleep and Felix’s outrageous remark was definitely going to make her start laughing. “Felix,” she tried again, “we had a good thing for a while. The truth is, there’s someone else now.”
The sound of an approaching car made them both turn their heads. A sleek shiny silver jaguar parked behind Felix’s dinged up Toyota. It was like she’d conjured the car, and the man stepping out of it, from thin air. She couldn’t have scripted this better if she’d been the author herself.
“So you’re really dating Farrell now, huh?”
“Well—”
“How am I supposed to compete with him?”
She should tell Felix the truth. That the man she was dating wasn’t Brandon Farrell. But if he wanted to jump to conclusions, then who was she to correct him?
“You don’t have to compete with anyone, Felix. You just have to keep your pecker in your pants.”
Felix looked defeated. He reached out and hugged her. “If it doesn’t work out with Farrell, you know where to find me.”
Grace stiffened but she didn’t reject the hug altogether. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”
Felix nodded to Brandon, who was tentatively making his way up her driveway. He looked unsure of whether to approach them or not, but Felix got in his Corolla and drove off, giving Brandon the unspoken permission he seemed to be looking for.
“Isn’t he the manager at Chez Louis?” Brandon asked.
Grace nodded. “Also known as my cheating ex.”
“Yeah?” Brandon frowned. “What did he want?”
“Believe it or not, he wanted me back. I said no.” Brandon was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and had a Publix bag in his hand. “What are you doing here?”
“Charlie called and told me you were on your way home. He gave me your address. Said you might be hungry. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Charlie told you that, huh?” It was sort of funny. Charlie playing matchmaker. Grace wondered what her brother would think of her attempt to get him and Sarah together.
There was a delicious greasy smell coming from the Publix bag. “It’s fried chicken from the deli. And a tub of potato salad,” he said, noting Grace’s interest.
Despite being at her parents’ house all day, Grace hadn’t eaten anything. She’d been too tired. But she was suddenly ravenous. Her stomach made a loud, embarrassing grumbling sound.
“There’s a movie marathon on cable tonight. Bringing Up Baby starts in ten minutes. Ever seen it?” he asked.
“Only every time it comes on TV. Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant. It’s a classic.”
Brandon grinned. “I knew you’d love old movies.”
Oddly enough, she wasn’t so tired anymore. The idea of eating fried chicken and watching a movie with Brandon sounded strangely comforting. Maybe it was because he’d been with her during a traumatic event. It bonded them in a way that made their relationship unique.
Three months ago she’d been in the middle of the driest dating spell in her entire life. Now, three men wanted her.
“I’d love to invite you inside, but I need to tell you, Brandon, I’m sort of seeing someone right now. But if you’re looking for a friend, then you definitely have one in me.”
He looked mildly disappointed, but he smiled good-naturedly and the two of them watched Bringing Up Baby and scarfed down all the fried chicken in the box, and had such a good time, they decided to do it again next week.
24
Lies, Sex, and Jane Austen
It was one p.m. on Friday, three weeks after the “attack,” the generic term they’d been using to refer to whatever it was that had happened to Pop. Grace and Joe were eating lunch in her office. He sat in a chair across from her desk. She sat perched on the edge of said desk, her bare feet propped against his knees. It was her habit to sometimes pull off her sneakers if she was going to be in her office for an extended period of time.
Eight days and counting till Valentine’s Day and Joe hadn’t mentioned doing anything special. But they were spending a lot of time together and maybe he just assumed she’d know they would be going out. Although this weekend they’d be apart. Joe had a rugby tournament in Tampa tomorrow and he was already packed and ready to leave.
