Devoted to Drew

by Loree Lough

  Bianca laughed. “Semantics. It’s easy as pie.”

  “I made a pie. Once.” He waved his hand like a flag of surrender. “Nothing easy about it. But I get your point. I’ll keep that in mind next time my mom gives me what-for when her tea is too hot or the soup is too cold.”

  The mantel clock pealed two times. “I’d better get back. Time for another dose of morphine. And Dad’s probably pulling out his hair by now.”

  Bianca looked at the armoire. “Thanks for all of this. It’ll make the job a lot easier.” Good time to talk money? she wondered.

  “No, thank you. But don’t do anything until we have a chance to talk salary. In the meantime, give some thought to what that might be, based on, oh, four or five hours a week. And don’t shortchange yourself, hear?”

  “Don’t worry. If you can’t meet my price, I can always rely on my trusty money tree.”

  “You’re something else,” he said again, heading for the back door.

  “The front door is closer, and nearer your car, you know.”

  “Yeah, but your mom’s room is at the top of the stairs.”

  Bianca didn’t know what that had to do with anything.

  “She might decide to check up on you,” he said, opening the kitchen door.

  “I’m used to it.”

  “Well, I’m not,” he said, “and I don’t want to take the chance that she’ll misinterpret this.”

  He wrapped her in a big, warm hug, then stepped back and smiled. Not the practiced grin reserved for print and film cameras, but a sincere, affectionate smile.

  “Person can’t have too many friends,” he said, closing the door behind him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  HOLDING HER CLOSE reminded him of how he’d felt kissing Amy Thornton behind the bleachers in eighth grade. Come to think of it, not even his first kiss had made him feel this way.

  He hadn’t kissed Bianca. But he’d wanted to. Man, but he’d wanted to!

  Logan had been up most of the night trying to make sense of the way she made him feel. His pulse quickened just thinking about her. Other women he’d known had aroused a similar reaction but not because of fear.

  It had lasted but a moment, just long enough to feel her heart beating hard against his chest and hear her short, trembling breaths. Would she have stayed as long in his arms if he had given in to the urge to kiss her?

  His phone rang before he could complete the thought. “Saved by the bell,” he told Poe.

  “Got a pencil?” Griff asked over the phone.

  Logan wrote down every new date and time. Every new venue, too. “So I’m guessing all these free lunch meetings are my price to pay for canceling?”

  “You guess right. Small price to pay, if you ask me.” Griff laughed. “How’re things with your mom?”

  “She’s holding her own.”

  “And you?”

  He understood the good intentions of the question because he’d asked it in the past. His mother’s condition motivated his decision to come up with another way to check on the well-being of friends who faced the ugliness of a family member’s terminal diagnosis.

  “I’m good,” Logan said.

  “Free for lunch?”

  “Yeah…if you can come here. I can’t leave Mom alone.”

  “That’ll work. I’ve been meaning to pay her a visit anyway.”

  Griff hadn’t seen Nancy since Thanksgiving, after the second round of chemo had ended. Her hair had grown back, but she’d lost another fifteen pounds since then. Better to warn folks, Logan decided, so she wouldn’t have to cope with their shock…or pity.

  “She’s down to seventy-two pounds,” Logan said. “Just so you know.”

  A moment of silence, and then, “What can I bring? I’m guessing she’s still not a fan of cut flowers.”

  He remembered the time Griff had tried to wake him up by tossing pebbles at his bedroom window. When one had cracked the glass, he’d felt so badly that not only had he replaced the pane, but he’d also brought a bouquet of roses to show his mom how sorry he was. Would she have gone easier on Griff if he’d been ten or twelve—instead of a junior in college? Probably not. But Griff didn’t need to know that.

  “She loves ice cream,” he said. “Anything that’s nut-free.”

  “Allergic?”

  “Nah. She just doesn’t like ’em.”

  “So…burgers? Pizza? Subs?”

  “The fridge is filled with luncheon meat and salad fixin’s. My crazy sister must have run to the twenty-four-hour grocery store once everyone was asleep.”

  “She’s a prize, all right. But…I’m not in the mood for healthy food. Besides, if I know Nancy, she’ll keep you hoppin’ until I get there. I’ll pick something up on my way over.”

  Griff had been right. Since ending the call, Logan had run up and down the stairs so many times he’d lost count. He was changing the batteries in the baby monitor’s receiver when his pal showed up balancing a cardboard tray of sodas, burgers and fries on one palm and carrying an insulated ice cream bag in the other.

  The old friends climbed the stairs together. “Let me go in first, make sure she’s combed her hair and hasn’t dribbled something on her nightgown.”

  When Logan closed the door behind him, Nancy said, “Did I hear Griffin’s voice out there?”

  “Yep. In the flesh.”

  “Get in here, you ruffian,” she hollered. “Unless you have a pocketful of pebbles….”

  Logan couldn’t remember when she’d last looked as happy.

  He left them alone to visit while he prepared Nancy’s lunch: pureed chicken, sweet potatoes and triple-blended applesauce. He saved Griff’s ice cream as a surprise, and once she’d had her fill—two generous scoops of cherry vanilla—he administered another dose of morphine.

  After she’d dozed off, Logan and Griff returned to the kitchen.

  “Can’t believe how small and frail she looks,” Griff said around a mouthful of burger. “Hard to believe I ever had nightmares about her.”

  “Nightmares. About Mom? You’re kidding.”

  “I wish. You have no idea how many times I woke up in a sweat after a king-size Nancy chased us with her feather duster.”

  They shared a good laugh over the memory of the time she’d done just that.

  Griff balled up a burger wrapper and tossed it at the trash can. “Hoo-ha,” he said when it bounced off the rim and dropped out of sight. He helped himself to another burger. “Heard from Sandra since she left?”

  “She calls two, three times a day. Sometimes more.”

  “She’s waiting for you to beg her to come home, you big idiot. You don’t expect her to admit you can’t cut it, do you?”

  “Yeah, well, it isn’t easy, but I’m soldiering through it.” Logan used a French fry as a pointer. “Though I have to admit, I might have yelled uncle days ago, if not for some solid advice from a good friend.”

  “I don’t recall doling out any advice.” Then he stopped midchew and groaned. “Aw, man. No way. The widow? Say it ain’t so.”

  Should have known better than to try to hide something from him. Griff knew Logan better than his parents and sisters—even Sandra, who’d always been more friend than sibling.

  “You’re out of your ever-lovin’ mind. You know that, right?”

  “Never felt more sane in my life.” Funny thing was, Logan meant it. “But let me put your mind at ease—she’s a nice gal. Takes good care of her kid. Treats her nosy mom with respect. And gave me a few pointers so I could avoid confrontation with you-know-who.” He aimed a thumb at the ceiling. “But that’s it. I wouldn’t even go so far as to call her a friend.”

  Logan remembered that sweet, soul-stirring hug and took a gulp of his soda.

  Griff did the same. “Her advice must have been pretty good, then, because things looked pretty peaceful between you and Nancy.”

  “And it’s gonna stay that way until…”

  Griff frowned. Nodded. Leaned back in
his chair and shook his head. “You know it’s impossible, right?”

  “She’s got a month left, two at best. If I can’t keep a civil tongue in my head that long, I’m one sorry excuse for a son.”

  “I wasn’t talking about you putting up with your mom’s infernal nagging.” He held up both hands. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

  “No apologies necessary. I know what you meant.”

  Griff nodded again. “Yeah. Guess you do.” He got up and tossed the rest of the lunch papers into the trash. “I was talking about—”

  “Bianca?”

  His friend drilled him with a long hard stare.

  “Yeah. Bianca. It’s impossible,” he repeated, “for a man and a woman to be—” he drew quote marks in the air “—‘just friends.’ You know that, too, right?”

  “I don’t know if I agree with that, but I guess we’ll find out. If I decide to take things even that far.”

  He waited, hoping his friend wouldn’t hear the half-truth in his statement.

  “Ah-ha. If you say so.” Griff opened the screen door. “Hey, it’s really nice out here. Want some help carrying your mom to the chaise lounge so she can get some fresh air?”

  “Just dosed her with morphine. She’ll sleep for an hour. But it’s a good idea. If she doesn’t wake up in a foul mood, I’ll carry her down here.”

  “Well, I’m only five minutes away. No court today, so if you need a hand…”

  “She’s light as a feather, but thanks. Thanks for lunch and for stopping by. You made her day.”

  Griff started for his car, hesitating halfway there. “Do me a favor, will ya?”

  Logan had a feeling he knew what his friend would say.

  “I have a couple dozen court cases in the next couple of months, so don’t fall stupid in love with this one, okay, Humpty? ’Cause I won’t have time to put you back together again.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said as Griff slid behind the wheel. “The yolk is on you, pal, because I’m not interested.”

  His grin faded as Griff drove away. In truth, the joke was on him…

  …because he had a feeling it was already too late.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “UNLESS I hit construction traffic,” Sandra said, “I should be home by dinnertime tomorrow.”

  He’d done a fair-to-middlin’ job of keeping up with things, but she’d find that out soon enough. The kids were in their family room doing homework, his dad had fallen asleep in the den and the last load of towels was about to come out of the dryer.

  “We’ll all be relieved to see you.”

  “Even Mom?”

  “Especially Mom. Seems I wasn’t gifted with your nursing skills.”

  He heard the smile in her voice when she said, “You’re a sweetheart to make up a story like that, but it’s okay. I’ve got my head on straight now, thanks to you. Can’t wait to get back. I really miss you guys!”

  Laughing, Logan said, “Give me a break. You talked to everybody three, four times a day. That’s more than you talk to us when you’re here. When did you find time to miss anyone?”

  Sandra told him she’d already packed the car and that the minute she finished her morning hike, she’d grab a shower and hit the road. He’d no sooner hung up than the back doorbell rang.

  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite old Broadway actress!” Logan said to the stylish elderly woman.

  “Better watch who you’re callin’ old, kiddo,” Deidre said, bussing his cheek. “I’ve decked younger men than you in my day….”

  “I was just about to bring Mom her afternoon snack. Wouldn’t it be a cool surprise if you delivered it instead?”

  “I know it’s been a few weeks since I popped by to see her, but that isn’t why I’m here today.” She sniffed. “Not sure if this is spring allergies or if I’m coming down with a cold, but I don’t want to risk exposing her.”

  Deidre plopped her enormous red tote on a kitchen chair and removed a multicolored scarf that could double as a tablecloth. “You’re the one I’m here to see, handsome. Sit with me a spell, and I’ll tell you why.”

  In typical Deidre fashion, she didn’t get right to the point. Instead, the former actress talked about Felix, her fourth husband. Changed the subject to Griff, who’d been renting the garage apartment at her boardinghouse while his place was being remodeled prior to fumigation. Finally, she brought him up to speed on what her newly married granddaughter had been up to.

  “Brooke and Hunter just found out they’re going to have a baby!”

  He pictured the couple. “No kiddin’. That’s great news. I’ll have to send Hunter some cigars. And flowers for Brooke.” A twinge of envy snaked up his spine, and he wondered why he’d never felt that way when other pals announced engagements, weddings or pregnancies.

  “How’s that other li’l monkey of theirs?”

  Deidre clasped both hands under her chin. “Connor? Oh, he’s an absolute angel, I tell you. He can’t wait to have a little brother or sister. Why, the way he acts…”

  She grabbed the suitcase she called a purse. “Oh! Speaking of acting, this is why I stopped by. I have some tickets here for you.” Deidre put them on the table and winked. “I thought maybe you could invite that adorable Bianca to see the play with you.”

  He’d almost forgotten that Deidre and Bianca knew one another. Still, something about her demeanor told him Griff had something to do with this invitation. A test, he wondered, so his old pal could see if the whole “just friends” thing had been true?

  “Why didn’t you give these to Griff?” he said, tapping the tickets.

  “That unsophisticated oaf? He drives me bonkers. One minute he’s telling me that he can’t abide stage plays. The next, he’s announcing that he invited some sweet young thing.” She paused, squinted. “How did he put that? ‘A sweet young peach, fresh off the vine.’”

  “He actually said that?” Logan laughed. “Fresh off the vine?”

  “I know what you’re going to say. Believe me, I wasted no time pointing out that peaches grow on trees, not vines.” She laughed, then added, “He could probably use a hand minding his young peach. Maybe you can double-date, like you did in high school and college.”

  “I can ask, but it isn’t likely Bianca will say yes. She has a son with special needs, don’t forget.”

  “Yes. Autism. Which is why Bianca never imposes on her mom.” Deidre sniffed, then clucked her tongue. “Maddy told me the only reason she moved in with Bianca was to help with Drew, but I don’t think she gets to do much of that.”

  “Might not be Maddy’s fault,” he said. “Bianca has this idea that because she knows Drew best, no one can handle him as well as she can.”

  “Hmm. You know, you might be on to something there.” She smacked his shoulder. “All the more reason to talk her into it. Back her into a corner if you have to!”

  Deidre got to her feet and tapped a long red-painted fingernail on the tickets. “If you can’t use them, let me know. I won’t have a bit of trouble giving them away.”

  Hoisting her purse over one shoulder, she waited while Logan opened the door.

  “Bet you can’t guess what my next stop will be….”

  “I have a pretty good idea…. Bianca’s house.” He stooped to kiss her cheek. “If you survive, give me a call.” He picked up the tickets and handed them to her. “And if you’re successful, give me a call. I’ll stop by to get them back, save you the time and trouble of driving all the way back over here.”

  “Oh, don’t be a big silly. I’m happy to come back. And when I do, I’ll spend a little time with your mother.”

  “Sandra will appreciate that as much as I will.”

  Deidre’s dark penciled-on brows rose high on her forehead. “Do you think she’d like to go? I can get her tickets, too.” The brows rose higher still and she inhaled a tiny gasp. “And what about your dad? He’s been cooped up in this house forever! Think he’d go if I got him a ticket?”

  How o
ften had he heard his mom say, “Carl, you’re such a stuffed shirt!” No, Logan couldn’t picture his dad sitting front and center at any stage play, let alone a little theater musical production.

  Speaking of a production, how like Deidre to make such a big one over her little play. If everyone on her guest list attended, who’d look after Drew and Sam and Nancy?

  “I can’t speak for my dad or Sandra,” he said, “but you’re more than welcome to ask them.” He held up a hand to silence her objection. “Your tickets, you ask. You’ll have a lot more luck getting a yes out of them than I will. You’re right. It’ll do ’em both good to get out of the house. Let me know if they say yes. I’ll stay with Mom while they’re gone.”

  “I know you’re a pretty amazing young fella, but not even you can be in two places at once. How will you stay with your mom if Bianca says yes?”

  Even if he planned on inviting her—and he did not—chances were slim to none that she’d say yes. He’d rather not ask than have to deal with the rejection.

  “How many show performances will there be?”

  “Six.” Then she laughed. “And aren’t you a smarty-pants. Of course! You could all go to different showings. That will solve the problem of who’ll babysit whom!”

  The baby monitor lit up and buzzed, his signal that Nancy was going to remind him of something he’d forgotten. Sure enough, her voice crackled through the speaker. “Logan? Honey, I’m in pain. I need you to call Dr. Hamilton. See if he’ll approve an extra dose of morphine. And when you come up, would you please bring me some orange juice? I’ve been craving it all day.”

  A moment of blessed silence, and then, “Don’t just stand there, silly! Hurry up!”

  Deidre shook her head. “Oh, you poor thing,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I feel awful about what she’s going through. But I’d hate to be you…putting up with that, day and night, night and day.”

  “It isn’t as bad as it sounds,” he admitted. “And anyway, I’ve only been on duty for a week. It’s Sandra who’s here day and night, night and day.”

  She shook her head again. “That chemotherapy must have fried Nancy’s brain. I’ll tell you one thing—if I was as close to meeting my Maker as she is, by golly, I’d start treating people a whole lot better, especially the ones who are taking care of me!”