With a Southern Touch: AdamA Night in ParadiseGarden Cop
Page 11
Max had made it down for the surgery. After being assured that Mike was in good hands, he’d had to hurry back for the opening of a road show that had needed some rewrites. Then, almost immediately, this opportunity had come up. It had been a package negotiated by the corporation. The company would finance a show with Jon directing, Jena starring, and him writing the play.
The only saving grace now was that the play hadn’t been specified. But still, he felt his heart sinking. If something was wrong in Florida, he was in trouble time-wise. Mike meant the world to him.
“Has anything happened to him?” he asked, his voice low, not betraying his anxiety.
“No, no, he says he’s fine. But he needs you to come to Florida. He says it’s important.”
“Florida? He’s fine—but he wants me to go to Florida? Now? I can’t go to Florida,” Max said. “Especially not now.” Marjorie was staring at him. He walked past her, then turned back. “I’ll call Mike. He’ll understand.”
“I don’t think so.”
He walked through the entryway and into the room to his left. His office. He sat behind his desk and realized she’d followed him. He stared at her. “He’ll understand.”
“Good. Because you don’t.”
Max leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “All right, Marjorie, what is it you know that I don’t?”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly tell you,” she said. But she didn’t leave the doorway.
He waved a hand toward her. “Shoo, then. I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“You’re supposed to be calling Mike.”
“I don’t need you staring at me while I call him.”
“You do need me to stare at you until you dial.”
He scowled at her. “I’ll call him soon.”
“You’ll forget. Well, too bad. All you’ll see then is the announcement.”
“What announcement?”
“Better call him.”
Max reached over, picked up the phone and punched in his grandfather’s number. Marjorie smiled, at last turning and abandoning her post at the doorway.
Max dialed his grandfather’s number, wondering if he would catch him in. Mike liked to be outside. When he wasn’t working with his therapist, he liked to get sit in his wheelchair out by the water.
That was one of the great things about the Paradise Senior Care Facility. It was on the water, and if Mike loved anything in life, it was the sea. He could stare at the waves for hours and be happy. Maybe that was natural. In his younger days, Mike had been one of the finest salvage divers on the coast. As a kid, Max had eagerly awaited his summers, the months he spent down in Florida with his grandfather. Usually they went on pretty mundane dives, going down after the personal effects from a yacht sunk by an inexperienced captain. But there were the occasional days when they hunted old galleons and Mike had told Max stories about the days when the pirates had raised all hell along the Atlantic coastline, the islands of the Caribbean and beyond. Mike had been something of a real-life hero to Max. A fun guy with a flair for action. He hadn’t given up heading his business until he was well past sixty, and he had captained one of his own ships until that day.
“Hello, Mike Wulfson here.”
His grandfather still barked out his name as if he were commanding a fleet of vessels.
“Hey, Mike. It’s Max.”
“Well, young fellow, did you hear? I’ve got news for you. When are you coming down here?”
“Mike, I just found out I have to write an entirely new play—in a week.”
“You can write in Florida.”
“I can’t. I won’t have the time I have here. I have to get started now. Like right now.”
“Max, I know you’re a busy man, but I’m going to be sorry. Awful sorry. You’re going to miss my wedding.”
“Wedding?”
“Yep. I’m getting married.”
“To whom? Why? When?”
Max couldn’t have been more stunned. And yet of course it was more than possible that Mike had met a woman there in Paradise.
“When? Thursday. And why? I’m in love.”
“But, Mike—”
“Oops, I’ve got to hang up. The beautiful Aurora Beck is coming in. Oh, Max, if only you could see what I see now. She’s got short blond hair. Sun-touched, like. She’s a beauty. Runs in the family. Blue eyes… Aurora, crank up the bed, will you? Only damned problem with this place. Hundreds of old geezers like me, and the beds all have manual cranks.”
“Mike, you can’t go asking an old—older woman to crank up your bed,” Max said, frowning.
“Don’t worry. Aurora is a spring chicken.”
“What? Seventy instead of eighty? Mike, I’m delighted for you, but you need to think this out carefully.”
“Aurora isn’t seventy. What kind of a man do you think I am?” Max heard his grandfather’s soft laughter. “She’s thirty-something. Can you imagine that? It’s not the years, it’s the mileage, though. Max, I have to go now. I really wish you’d come down for the wedding.”
“Mike!” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Mike had always been sharp as a tack, but was falling for a hard-up blonde who could crank up his bed?
“I know you can get here if you want. Thursday afternoon. We want to get married on the beach. Isn’t that romantic? She’s a beauty, Max. I’ve never been happier. And sweet, too, because at my age, I know there’s a lot more than looks to a woman. Don’t fail me, Max. You can work here. You can work anywhere. I need you to be my best man. I’m counting on you.”
“Mike, wait. Marriage is a serious step.”
“I have to go. I’ll talk to you when you get here. Tell Marjorie to get going on your flight reservations right away. Hell, I’ll bet she’s already booked you. Can’t wait to see you, Max.”
“Mike, take a breath, dammit. Wait! This is insane. You can’t go marrying a woman in her thirties without really thinking it through.”
His words were wasted. Mike had hung up on him.
Marjorie was standing in the doorway again.
“So? Are you going to Florida for the wedding?”
He looked up at her irritably. “Hell, yes, I’m going to Florida. But not for the wedding.”
“Why, then?”
“I’m going to stop the damned thing!”
Two
The young woman was sitting at the desk in what the plaque on the door identified as the Activities Center. She was bent over a computer, deeply engrossed.
She hadn’t even noticed that he was standing there, Max thought in irritation. He cleared his throat, and she looked up from the computer, a pleasant, quizzical expression on her face.
She had short-cropped, flyaway blond hair. Lighter at the tips, naturally bleached by the sun. Very blue eyes. Nice features. She was a small woman, but she had a shape. Leave it to Mike. Even if he had been bewitched by a calculating young fortune hunter, she would surely have had the assets with which to bring her scheme to a successful conclusion.
This had to be her. The evil gold digger.
“Yes?”
“I’m Max Wulfson.”
She looked him up and down, with apparent disapproval. He felt his temper simmering. He should be the one staring at her and passing judgement. What she was doing was more than shameless, it was disgusting. Like hell she was thirty-something. He doubted she’d made it to her thirtieth birthday yet, while Mike was heading toward ninety at a gallop.
“Well,” she said after a moment, “welcome. It was nice of you to come down for the wedding. Spare a few days for your grandfather.”
Despite himself, he bristled at the implied insult. “Mike chose to move to Florida. He is retired, I’m not.”
“Ah. A busy man. Of course. He’s told me you don’t approve.” She didn’t seem surprised. As well she shouldn’t be.
“Of course I’m against it.”
“Why?”
“Oh, come on. You know why.”
&
nbsp; “Quite frankly, I don’t. It’s what your grandfather wants.”
“My grandfather is an old man.”
“He isn’t senile.”
Max felt a tic of anger pulse at his throat. He strode into the room. There was a spare chair near the computer desk. He drew it around backward and straddled it, staring at her flatly. “No, Mike isn’t senile. But he is old, so I can see where he would be flattered, wanting to believe that a woman your age was in love with him.”
“A woman my age…?” Her eyes widened; then her lashes swept them, and she lowered her head.
He was glad she at least had the grace to be ashamed. The he realized that she wasn’t ashamed at all. She was smiling.
She stared up at him again, her countenance serious once more. “I believe age is irrelevant when two people love each other, Mr. Wulfson.”
“Naturally. I’m sure you started practicing that line the minute you became engaged.”
She was still smiling, but her eyes had changed. There was something steely and hard in them now. Obviously she had realized that she wasn’t going to get away with this whole thing as easily as she’d hoped. Mike might have gotten old and easy, but he hadn’t.
“Frankly, Mr. Wulfson, I didn’t have to practice that line. I really do believe it.”
“And you mean to tell me that you love my grandfather?”
“Yes, actually, I do love him. Very much.”
“Too bad. I intend to stop this marriage.”
“Oh? How?”
One slim sun-browned leg crossed over the other, she stared at him, her hands folded in her lap, her words a challenge.
“Break it to Mike that you’re after nothing but his money.”
She leaned forward and asked a little breathlessly, “Does he really have that much?”
“Enough, Ms. Beck. Enough to get you out of here, I imagine.”
“Well, bless us and save us,” she murmured, a Southern accent he hadn’t noticed until that moment echoing in her words.
“I’m willing to write you a check,” he said.
“How long did you have to practice that line?” she asked sharply.
Ignoring her, he went on. “Of course, that’s a limited-time offer. You call it off now and I write the check. You make me fight you, and…well, then I guarantee, you’ll walk away with nothing.”
“I’m perfectly willing to take that risk, Mr. Wulfson.”
“I’d give you a substantial amount.”
She leaned even closer. “But I want the whole ball of wax. And I’m willing to bet that this wedding will give your grandfather far more happiness than you—or he—could ever hope to buy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Wulfson, I’m busy.”
He’d been dismissed.
“Fine. I’ll have to talk to Mike, then. The truth now will be better than the pain you intend to cause him later.”
A smile curled her lips, and she leaned close. “This wedding will give him nothing but pleasure, I promise you.” She almost purred the words.
The woman was incredibly self-assured, Max thought. She was a barracuda, and she had spotted her quarry. Now she didn’t intend to let go.
She didn’t really look the type. No big bleached-out fall of sexy hair. No implants. A tank top and shorts. She didn’t shout sex appeal.
She had it, though.
Maybe they made man-killers differently down here.
She sat back on the chair, folding her legs beneath her. Her feet were bare. Her sandals were on the floor.
“You can’t see Mike right now.”
“Hey, I came down from New York when I really shouldn’t have left. You can bet I’m going to see Mike.”
“You can’t. He’s out.”
“Out? At the doctor? Tell me where the office is.”
“He’s not at the doctor’s.”
“Look, you can’t keep me away from him.”
“I’m not trying to keep you away from him. He’s going to be delighted that you’re here.”
“Then where is he?”
“I don’t know, exactly.”
“Then ‘not-exactly’ where is he?”
“Shopping.”
“Shopping?”
“He’s about to be a bridegroom, after all.”
“He’s looking for a wedding ring? I’d have thought you’d have picked out the diamond a long time ago.”
“I’m not exactly sure what he’s shopping for. Maybe some sexy underwear.”
“Aren’t you amusing?”
“Not at all.”
“All right, would he be buying that sexy underwear for you—or for himself?”
“Oh, for himself, of course.” She smiled innocently at him.
“Where would he be shopping?”
She shook her head and lifted her hands. “I haven’t the faintest idea. He’s not on a leash, you know. Merely getting married. He had his chauffeur come this morning.”
“Fine.” He stood. “This isn’t the end of this, you know.”
“Naturally not.” Her voice had that challenging purr in it once again. “I look forward to having you in our lives—though not too often, of course.”
“I’ll be in your life, all right. You can just bet I’ll be in it,” he assured her.
Max turned and walked out, tempted to slam his hand against the wall. He felt ill. He loved Mike, and the old man sure didn’t deserve this in the last years of his life.
What the hell had seized hold of his highly intelligent and usually rational grandfather?
One thing was for damned sure. No one was going to use Mike or make a fool out of him, not with Max Wulfson in town.
Even if it meant giving up the biggest break in his career.
It was all Aurora could do to keep from screaming.
That man was a self-righteous asshole. So worried about his own inheritance that he jumped to ridiculous assumptions.
He probably wouldn’t like Mary any better.
He wouldn’t want Mike marrying anyone. That would compromise his expectations for the future.
She was so angry she couldn’t see straight. Time to hit the save button on the computer.
Suddenly the screen went blank.
What had she done? She had finally come up with the right dark, scary lines for her witch, and now…now she couldn’t remember even one of them.
“No,” she said aloud. “Please, no.”
She scrolled up and down, hit every key, but it was futile. The dialogue was gone.
She gave up, trying not to let tears flood her eyes. She stood, then walked down the hall, past Mr. Hollenback, who no longer responded to any stimuli, though she usually spoke to him and patted his cheek anyway. She went on past the bingo room and had almost made it to Mary’s room when a voice called out from 157.
“Aurora? Aurora, dear, is that you?”
She took a deep breath and stopped, popping her head into the room.
Daisy Marks was looking at her anxiously. “Sweetheart, they pushed my table to where I can’t reach it. Would you be a dear?”
“Of course, Daisy.”
She reached for the table, meaning to wheel it closer to Daisy.
It nearly flew through the window instead.
“Oh, dear,” Daisy said, snow-white brows raised against her crinkled face.
“I’m so sorry,” Aurora murmured, retrieving the table.
“What’s the matter, dear? Oh, no…you’ve fallen in love, haven’t you?”
“Of course not.”
“Yes you have. I can tell.”
Daisy giggled delightedly. “I know who he is.”
“Really?”
“Of course. Mike’s grandson.”
“You’ve met him before?”
“Of course, dear. He wouldn’t have considered letting Mike come here for treatment if he hadn’t been down to approve the place.”
“I’m amazed he didn’t try to yank Mike back up north with him.”
“Oh, he tried.”
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“I dislike him more every second.”
“What a pity. You’re about to become step…step somethings. Like cousins. He’s very good-looking, I must say.”
“He’s an idiot.”
Daisy was once again delighted. Aurora decided she could at least be glad she was creating such vast amusement for Daisy, who would be one-hundred on her next birthday. She had outlived all three of her children. Her grandchildren came to see her, but they lived in different states, and their visits were few and far between. After all, the grandchildren all had little children of their own to care for at home.
Daisy’s body might be failing her, but her mind wasn’t. “A good-looking idiot,” she said pertly.
“I don’t think so, Daisy. Besides, he’s dead set against the marriage.”
“Really? That doesn’t sound like Max. He dotes on Mike.”
“He thinks he’s marrying me. And don’t you go correcting him.”
Daisy cocked her head slightly. “So where were you off to in such a huff?”
“I was going to go tell Mary. I’m not so sure she should marry a man who has such a jerk for a grandson. I mean, think of the genetics.”
“Oh,” Daisy said gravely. “Right. They could have two-headed children.”
“Daisy, I just mean that… I don’t want that Northern great white shark thinking my grandmother would marry Mike for his money.”
“But we all know Mary would never marry any man for money. Leave it be, sweetie. Mike and Mary will be as happy as two bugs in a rug. No one should spoil that for them.”
Daisy was right, Aurora knew.
“You feeling better now?” Daisy asked.
“Yeah, thanks. Daisy, do you need anything else while I’m here?”
“No, dear. I couldn’t reach the remote, but you got me all settled.”
“Well, good. I’ll see you later then.”
Aurora started to leave.
Daisy called her name before she could leave the room.