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  And then he was gone and she was alone.

  Shame returned, but this time it had nothing to do with wanting a man she could never have. Instead it was about hurting someone who didn’t deserve to be hurt.

  She’d been trying to make herself feel better by saying he was nothing more than an empty shell—a pretty façade, not a real person. But she’d been wrong. Reid was very real.

  She’d been disrespectful and dismissive. Pretty much acting the way she’d expected him to act. The way others had acted toward her.

  She’d become someone she didn’t like and she didn’t know how to fix that.

  Chapter Four

  LORI STARED at the ringing phone. “Are you going to get that?” she asked.

  Gloria continued to flip through the DVD magazine. “There’s no one I want to talk to.”

  “Then I guess I’ll talk to them.” Lori grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

  “This is Cal Buchanan. You’re, ah…”

  “Lori Johnston. We spoke when you called before. Hi. How are you?”

  “Good. I’m phoning to check on my grandmother. I thought I might come by later and visit.”

  “That’s great.” Lori covered the phone and smiled at Gloria. “It’s Cal. He wants to see you.”

  Gloria didn’t bother looking up. “No. Tell him to go away.”

  Lori uncovered the phone. “She’s thrilled and can’t wait to see you.”

  Cal chuckled. “Want to let me hear her say that?”

  “Not really. She doesn’t always say what she means. You have to read between the lines.”

  Gloria glared at Lori. “Hang up this instant. You will not answer my phone again, nor will you speak for me.”

  Lori took a step back so she was out of reach. “Your grandmother is doing great. She’s making progress every day. Even her physical therapist is impressed and he’s one tough guy to please. She’s gained a little weight. Not as much as I would like, but then I’m just bitter at how good she must look in her clothes.”

  Gloria’s scowl didn’t soften. “You’re annoying me. Hang up. Or tell Cal he can visit, but just him. Not that whore he married or her horrible baby.”

  Lori winced. She hadn’t had the phone covered and based on how Cal swore, he’d heard every word.

  “Why do I bother?” he asked before he hung up.

  Lori put down the phone. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “Why would you do that? He’s your grandson. This is the second time he’s called, wanting to come see you. To me that shows an impressive level of commitment. If he was just being polite, he would have stopped after one call.”

  Instead of answering, Gloria turned her attention back to the catalog.

  Lori snatched it from her and tossed it on the ground. “I’m talking to you.”

  “I have no interest in this conversation. You need to be careful. You’re coming very close to overstepping your bounds.”

  “Excuse me while I tremble in fear.” Lori stalked to the bookcases and turned back to face the bed. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked again. “Why are you acting like this? It doesn’t make any sense. I know you’re lonely. I know you’re hurting and feeling a sense of your own mortality. Who wouldn’t after what you’ve been through? So you deal with that by connecting with people. But you don’t connect. We’re talking about your family and you keep pushing them away. Why?”

  “I will not discuss this with you.”

  “Too bad, because I’m not leaving until I understand.”

  Gloria folded her arms across her chest and looked out the window. Lori stared at her.

  “I thought you had the most selfish grandkids in the world,” she said slowly. “You’d lost your only child, you took them in, raised them, ran the family business and your reward was for them to ignore you. But it’s not like that, is it? You push them away. What are you trying to prove?”

  “Stay out of this,” Gloria told her, her face tight with anger. “This isn’t your business. You will stop right now.”

  “Who’s gonna make me? You? You think you’re so tough, but I’m not afraid of you.”

  One corner of Gloria’s mouth twitched. “Very mature.”

  Lori held in a grin. Oh, my. Was that a crack in the armor? A sign of humanity? It couldn’t be.

  “I don’t care about mature,” Lori told her. “I do what works. What’s going on with Cal? Why don’t you want to see him?”

  Gloria turned to the window again, but this time the action seemed more about pain than defiance. “He’s never respected me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “You don’t know. And that woman he married. She was pregnant with another man’s baby. That child he’s raising isn’t his.”

  And people thought home care could be boring. “Did she cheat on him?”

  “No. She was pregnant before they got together.”

  “So technically she didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Actually it is the point. Is Cal happy?”

  “Any fool can be happy.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” She leaned against the side of the bed. “You might want to be careful about pushing people away too many times. Eventually they stop trying to get close.”

  “You must know this from experience,” Gloria said, turning to look at her.

  Lori blinked. “Excuse me? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course you do. But it’s not so comfortable to have someone analyzing you, is it?” Gloria looked her up and down. “How long have you done your best to ignore your appearance? One might even say you play down your looks.”

  Lori did her best not to react, and that included blushing. “I wear scrubs because it’s appropriate for my job.”

  “They’re shapeless and ugly. Your hair isn’t horrible, but you pull it back in that ridiculous braid. No makeup, those glasses.”

  “They help me see,” Lori said. “Blind nurses are much harder to employ.”

  “You use humor as a weapon. I would say I’m not the only one pushing people away. So what’s your excuse? When did you stop trying?”

  A long, long time ago, Lori thought grimly. When she’d realized her older sister was totally perfect and that she, Lori, would never measure up.

  “So, now you don’t have quite so much to say,” Gloria said calmly.

  “I prefer telling other people what’s wrong with them, but I can handle whatever you say. I wear my hair back because it’s practical. I dress like this because it’s appropriate. I don’t wear makeup because I have limited time in the morning and I’d rather spend it on a run than painting my face.”

  “Excellent excuses. Have you used them before or did you come up with them all right now?”

  Lori stared at her patient. The good news was Gloria was showing a healthy, if slightly twisted interest in life. The bad news was she’d shot a few unpleasant truths right into Lori’s gut while doing it.

  “What do you want from me?” Lori asked. “Is there a purpose or are your comments their own kind of fun?”

  “I want you to wear regular clothes. Jeans and a sweater. Looking at you in those…what did you call them?”

  “Scrubs.”

  “Right. Looking at you in those scrubs is depressing. I’m already near death. I don’t need my demise hurried along by looking at your ugly clothes.”

  Lori flipped up the hem of her shirt and pretended to look for a tag. “There’s no warning label that being seen in scrubs can cause death.”

  “Insolent child.”

  “Crabby old biddy.”

  Gloria pressed her lips together, as if holding in a smile. “You will wear regular clothes starting tomorrow.”

  “You actually can’t make me.”

  Gloria ignored her. “In return, there is a slight chance I might be willing to see one of my grandchildren.”

  That was a victory. And worth wearing jeans. “You have a deal.
”

  Gloria eyed her head. “We also need to do something about your hair.”

  “Not likely. The price for that is you singing karaoke.”

  DANI WAITED for her large nonfat latte at the crowded Daily Grind across the street from the downtown Nordstrom.

  This had always been her favorite of Seattle’s Daily Grinds—probably because it was the first one her brother Cal had opened. She’d stood in line the very first day while Cal had worked the counter and waited to see if his business would take off.

  It had. Now there were Daily Grinds all over the West Coast. The company was expanding and giving Starbucks a run for its money.

  Of course, thinking about Cal’s success made her own life look just a tad more grim, she thought with a wry smile. Decisions were going to have to be made. No, that wasn’t right. She’d already made the decisions. What she lacked was action.

  The barista called her name and she grabbed her coffee. It was time to give notice at The Waterfront and go look for a new job. One where she would succeed or fail based on her performance and not because of her family.

  She turned, only to have someone bump into her from behind. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a pleasant-looking man backing away.

  “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I zigged when I should have zagged.”

  “That’s okay,” Dani said.

  “Did you spill?” he asked.

  She liked that he visually inspected her coat instead of taking the chance to touch her.

  “No. You look good.” Instantly he took another step back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. Not that you don’t look good. You do. But I wasn’t trying to compliment you. Not that I wouldn’t want to, it’s just…”

  He stood there looking so uncomfortable, she momentarily forgot her rule of never again speaking to an unrelated man under the age of seventy-five.

  “It’s okay,” she said with a smile. “I totally know what you were trying to say. My coat looks untouched by any form of coffee.”

  Relief darkened his pale gray eyes. “Exactly. I didn’t spill.”

  “Good.” Impulsively she held out her hand. “I’m Dani.”

  “Gary.”

  They shook hands and she felt nothing. Not a spark, not a hint of a spark. There was an absolute lack of sparkage. Thank God.

  “It’s crazy in here,” she said. “I’d try to avoid the rush, but I don’t know when that is.”

  “Me, either.” A couple moved toward them and Gary took a step toward her. “I’m here several times a week for my cup of courage.”

  She stepped into a less crowded corner. “You get courage from coffee?”

  “From the caffeine. I teach nearby and my afternoon students are surly. This keeps me on my toes.” He raised his cup as he spoke.

  He was the kind of man easily overlooked and forgotten, Dani thought. Light brown hair, pale eyes, pale skin. Slender. Nicely dressed, but not flashy. He seemed sincere rather than charming, intelligent rather than physical. All good things.

  “What do you teach?” she asked.

  “Theology and math at the community college. Most of my students are taking theology to fulfill a requirement, and everyone knows people hate math. I should try to find a fun subject that everyone would like.”

  “Is there one?”

  “What did you like in college?” he asked.

  “Not math,” she said, then smiled. “You probably hear that a lot.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “I took a lot of classes in restaurant management. That’s what I do now—work in a restaurant. I’ve been an assistant to a chef for a while. I used to manage a place in Renton. Burger Heaven.”

  He nodded. “I’ve been there. Great milkshakes. Do you like being an assistant to the chef?”

  “I love working for Penny, but it’s time for me to make a change. That’s what I was thinking about when we bumped into each other. That I need to take the risk and go for it. But I’m nervous. What if I fail? What if I succeed? I can’t…”

  She stopped talking and stared at him. “I can’t believe I’m just blurting this all out.”

  “I appreciate you talking to me, Dani. I’m happy to listen.”

  There was something about the way he said it—as if he really meant it.

  “But I don’t know you.”

  “Sometimes we recognize a kinship in another person,” he said.

  If any other guy had tried a line like that on her, she would have hit him in the stomach. But the way Gary spoke the words made her think he really meant them.

  “Still, I don’t usually dump stuff on strangers,” she muttered.

  “I’m glad I was your exception.” He glanced at his watch. “But I have forty-five bored students waiting to hear about comparative theology through the ages. I have to go.”

  He sounded as if he regretted the fact. She kind of did, too.

  “Thanks for listening. I appreciate your time,” she said.

  “I’m glad I ran into you.”

  “Me, too.”

  They stared at each other for a second, and then he was gone. Dani walked out the other door and headed for her car.

  That was good, she thought. Meeting Gary had reminded her that all men weren’t lying, cheating, smarmy weasels. There were still some nice guys around.

  REID FLIPPED through the fan letters in front of him. Some were typed and sounded more like they were from forty-year-old truck drivers than actual kids, but a few really got to him.

  He kept returning to the one from Frankie. A kid dying from some form of cancer Reid couldn’t begin to pronounce. The kid who had asked to meet Reid as his last wish.

  “Damn it all to hell,” Reid muttered and picked up Gloria’s phone. He punched in the number the kid had written on his letter and leaned back in his chair.

  A woman answered. “Hello?”

  “Hi. This is…” Reid hesitated. The letter was three months old. Maybe he should wait to say who he was. “Is Frankie there?”

  “Oh, God.”

  The woman’s voice came out in a sob. Reid stiffened as he heard what sounded like crying.

  “Ah, ma’am?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just…” More crying. “He’s gone. It’s been two weeks. Frankie died. I knew it was going to happen. It was inevitable. We all knew it. So I expected to be sad, you know? But why am I shocked? Why do I keep expecting to see him? To hear him? He was just a little boy. So little and now he’s all alone.”

  Reid felt as if he’d taken a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball to the gut. The air rushed out of his lungs and he couldn’t speak. Probably a good thing, because what was he supposed to say? That Frankie was in heaven and hanging out with the angels? Who believed that after losing a kid?

  “I’m sorry,” he managed at last. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Thank you.” The woman cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to go off like that. I just can’t seem to get it together.” She drew in a breath. “I didn’t get your name. Why are you calling?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Reid said. “I won’t bother you again.”

  He hung up the phone and let the letter fall to the ground.

  Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. If he’d bothered to read his fan mail even two weeks ago, he could have been there. Could have gone to see the kid.

  Not that his showing up would have made any difference, but at least the kid wouldn’t have thought his last wish didn’t matter.

  He picked up another letter from a pissed kid, basically telling him off for not bothering to show at some benefit. There were dozens more like it.

  Reid closed his eyes and did his best to forget. He wasn’t a bad man. Sure he had his flaws, but he worked hard at his job and he didn’t deliberately hurt anyone. At least that’s what he used to tell himself. Now he had no real job—the sports bar didn’t count—and it turns out he’d hurt a lot of people.

  His cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and saw
it was Seth—his so-called manager.

  “What?” he said by way of greeting.

  “Turn on CNN. And brace yourself.”

  Reid grabbed the remote and flipped to the appropriate channel. There were two former centerfold twins being interviewed.

  “So this is a self-help book?” the reporter asked, barely able to keep from staring at their matching DDD boobs.

  “Uh-huh,” one of the blond twins said, her voice high and lispy. The sound made Reid cringe. It also made him remember a couple of nights in Cincinnati, a king-size bed and a whole lot of room service.

  “We’ve been in a lot of relationships,” the blonde continued.

  “We’ve had a lot of men,” the other one said with a giggle.

  “Right.” The first one smiled at the camera. “So we decided to share our experiences with other women. You know, the ones who aren’t as pretty and sexy, who don’t get out as much as we do.”

  “There are things they can do,” her sister said earnestly. “Ways to be more sexy. Not just in how they dress, but in what they say and how they act.”

  This fabulous offer to American women everywhere came from big-haired twins wearing matching halter tops and hot pants.

  “You also talk about some of the men you’ve been with,” the reporter said.

  Both sisters giggled. “Uh-huh,” the one on the left said. “We know it’s bad to kiss and tell, but we couldn’t help ourselves.”

  Reid got a cold feeling deep in his gut.

  “One name popped out at me,” the reporter said. “Reid Buchanan’s been in the news lately.”

  Reid groaned.

  The twins looked at each other and sighed.

  “We didn’t want to say anything in our book,” the first one said. “That would be tacky. But honestly, it wasn’t that great. I mean most guys have trouble with two women, so we expect that. Sure, it’s their fantasy, but when faced with the reality of us naked, it can be a little much.”

  “It wasn’t too much,” Reid yelled at the television. “It was fine. It was better than fine. I did great.”

  “The earth didn’t move,” the second one said in a low voice. “It happens.”

  The reporter leaned forward. “Was it a size issue?”