by Radclyffe
Henrietta lay motionless and Derian rubbed her hand between both of hers. Absolutely certain Henrietta was cataloging every word and action, even if she didn’t show it, Derian reported in the no-nonsense, get-to-the-point way HW had drilled into her when she was young.
“So the doctors think the best way to get your heart tuned up and running optimally is to take you into the chop shop for an overhaul. Something about redirecting the fuel lines. The mechanic—a guy by the name of Armstrong—sounds like he knows what he’s doing, so I told him to go ahead.”
She cleared her scratchy throat. “I really need you back behind the wheel, HW. I think a lot of people do. This is no time to be sitting out the race.”
A furrow formed between Henrietta’s brows and her lids slowly opened. Her eyes wandered for an instant and then found Derian’s. The haze gave way to sharp clarity. “Who’s sitting out?”
Derian laughed, a great weight lifting from her heart. “Just making the most of a rest stop, were you?”
“How bad?”
“Fixable.” Derian kissed her hand. “You’re gonna have surgery in a few minutes.”
“Huh. The agency—”
“Will be there when you get out of here,” Derian said vehemently. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Emily—”
“Emily can take care of everything.” Derian pushed a hand through her hair. “Hell, she’s like a miniature of you.”
“Not true. Softer.” Henrietta’s voice was a weak imitation of her usual full-bodied trumpet.
“That’s what you want everybody to think,” Derian scoffed, “but I know better.”
“She’ll…need…help. Martin—”
“To hell with Martin.” Derian leaned closer. “Listen, stop worrying about the agency. It’s been there a hundred years, and it’ll be there a hundred more. But I’ll do whatever I can, I swear.”
“Good…always counted on you…”
Her eyes drifted close and Derian’s heart twisted. She’d never wanted anyone to count on her, especially when she was afraid she’d disappoint. But she couldn’t say no to Henrietta. “I swear.”
*
Emily didn’t go back to her office but walked directly out of the conference room, down the stairs, and out into morning rush hour, pausing just long enough to grab her coat and purse from her office. She was too angry to think, and if she stayed she was likely to say something she’d regret to one of the staff. No matter how infuriating she found Donatella’s unnecessary presence, she was one of the senior staff members and, as Henrietta’s de facto second, she had to maintain order and keep the office running. If that meant putting up with Donatella Agnelli for the time being, that’s what they’d all have to do until Emily could figure out some other plan. She was a planner. That’s what she did. No matter what challenge confronted her, she didn’t back down. She took her time, sorted out the options, made a plan, and made it happen.
If only she could talk to Henrietta. For the last half dozen years, Henrietta had been her sounding board, professionally and personally, and she hadn’t realized until now just how much she counted on her. If Winfield was her family, Henrietta was the heart. No wonder they all felt so lost.
She cut through the crowd as if guided by radar, reflexively avoiding the slowly ambling groups of early-morning tourists, the commuters as focused as she on getting to their destinations, the throngs of street vendors setting up stands, and delivery people pushing handcarts across the sidewalk laden with cases of beer and boxes of food and all the other commodities that kept New York running twenty-four hours a day. When she finally reached St. Luke’s, slightly out of breath but no longer on the verge of raging, she put Donatella from her mind. Time for all of that later. Now was only about Henrietta. As she pushed through the double doors into the bustling lobby, she wished as she hadn’t in a long time that she could call her mother, just to hear the comforting welcome in her voice and know there was one place in the world everything would be all right. A wish as foolish as wanting to undo the past.
She closed her eyes in the elevator, waiting for the pain to settle into a dull ache in the recesses of her soul, as it always did. Composed again, she followed the crowd into the hall and turned right toward the intensive care unit. Out of nowhere, she thought of Derian. Did her directional dyslexia make something as simple as remembering which way to turn a challenge? What kind of effort did it take to navigate an increasingly complex physical world when faced with an inherent block to one’s place in it? Derian would not want her sympathy, nor did she have any—only respect for a challenge met and conquered. She had never heard or seen one word about Derian’s condition, which only spoke to how well she handled it, since nothing else about her life seemed free from public scrutiny. Emily flushed with unexpected pleasure, realizing Derian had shared something so private with her.
She glanced at her watch, not exactly sure when visiting hours started, but it didn’t really matter. She’d wait.
“Emily?”
Emily peered into the waiting room. “Aud! Good morning.” Even as she spoke, fear flashed through her. “God, is it Henrietta? Has something happened?”
Aud, looking stylish and composed, rose quickly and hurried toward her. “No, no, at least no emergency. But Dere got a call this morning at breakfast, and the surgeons want to operate right away. She’s inside. I haven’t heard anything more than that.”
Emily struggled to decipher the barrage of words. Henrietta. Surgeons. Dere. Breakfast. This morning. Aud and Derian, together. And of course, why not. Grabbing on to her runaway thoughts, she edited the extraneous, what was none of her concern, what didn’t—couldn’t—matter.
“Is she worse? Is that why they want to operate so quickly?”
Aud shook her head. “I don’t think there’ve been any new developments—but from what I could gather, when they reviewed all of the tests, they felt they couldn’t wait.”
“God,” Emily whispered.
“Come on, sit down. Would you like some coffee? Tea?”
“What? No, I—”
“You’re looking just a little shaky,” Aud murmured.
“No, I’m all right. Just a shock.” Emily pulled her fraying nerves together. “But I could certainly use some tea.”
Aud said, “I’ll get it. I need more coffee too.”
“No, I’m really all right now. I just rushed over here, and I wasn’t ready.”
“Who is?” Aud muttered. “How do you take your tea,” she went on, pouring hot water from a large carafe.
“I don’t suppose there’s milk?”
“Mini Moo.”
“That’ll do.”
Aud returned with a simmering tea and a cup of coffee of her own and sat down next to Emily. “We’ve met before, at one of the Winfield meetings. It was brief, I think right after you started interning for Henrietta.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily said, “I don’t remember, but it was very overwhelming at first—so many people I only met for a few seconds. I’m sure I’ve forgotten ninety percent of them.”
Aud smiled wryly. “After a while you get the hang of facial imprinting. But you probably don’t need that skill at the agency. It’s kind of its own little universe—cloistered.”
Emily laughed. “Well, it’s hardly a monastery, but we are pretty close-knit. Everyone is very concerned about Henrietta.”
“She inspires that kind of loyalty.” Aud glanced in the direction of the ICU as if she were trying to see inside the barred doors. “I don’t think there’s anything else that could’ve gotten Dere back here that quickly.”
“I imagine if you’d called her, she would have come.”
Aud, in that moment every inch an attorney, riveted her with a piercing stare. “How so?”
“I could see last night that you’re good friends,” Emily said. “I think she would be very loyal to her friends.”
A shadow stirred in Aud’s eyes, a swirl of gray passing through the startling aquam
arine.
“Loyal. She is. In fact, I don’t think there’s a single thing that means more to her than that.”
“That rather says it all, doesn’t it,” Emily said. “Trust, truth, everything that matters.”
“Exactly what Derian would say, if she ever really talked about those things,” Aud said in a distant tone. Her attention refocused on Emily. “You have a pretty good read on her. I thought you just met?”
“We did, but”—Emily gestured to the room, the empty hall, the low hum of distant voices—“this place tends to strip away the surface very quickly, doesn’t it. We spent quite a long time waiting yesterday with nothing to do but talk.”
“I’ve known Derian all my life,” Aud said. “She’s not usually a sharer.”
Emily smiled. “That doesn’t surprise me. You grew up together?”
“Our fathers grew up together—prep school, college, even studied law together. Our families were like one big extended family. We’re almost the same age, so we literally knew each other from the beginning.”
“I didn’t realize Mr. Winfield was also an attorney.”
“Martin never practiced. My father, like my grandfather, is the Winfield attorney.”
“And now you.”
“And now me,” Aud said softly.
“Did you always know you’d work with your father?”
“No,” Aud said. “I had visions of a different path, but somewhere along the way, I gave in. Or maybe I just changed my mind.”
“Would you happen to know Donatella Agnelli?” Emily asked.
“Donatella? Oh,” Aud said, “did she show up at the agency already?” She gave a short laugh. “That sounds like Donatella. She doesn’t waste time.”
Emily stiffened. “Yes, she’s there. We weren’t expecting her.”
“Martin instructed her to review the agency, since of course, Henrietta won’t be available for an indefinite period of time.”
“Review?”
“Keep things going,” Aud said, probably being deliberately vague, the way lawyers often were.
“I see,” Emily said, hoping she was wrong about Donatella’s true agenda.
Chapter Thirteen
Emily got up to deposit her cardboard cup in the trash just as Derian walked in. She stopped abruptly, ambushed by a shock wave of sensation. She’d hoped to see her, but hadn’t anticipated the impact. She actually shivered, and she wasn’t the least bit cold. If anything, she felt feverish—everywhere. All her mental rationalizations as to why she shouldn’t be captivated by Derian Winfield promptly disappeared with the first glance. Derian’s face was set in tight lines, faint shadows bruising the skin beneath her eyes, but she was still every bit as arresting as she had been the night before. When she saw Emily, a spark ignited in her dark gaze and that intense laser-like focus fixed on her. Emily’s instant desire to comfort her warred with her faltering sense of self-preservation. Caring for someone was safe enough, as long as one kept a firm grip on reality—wasn’t it?
“Hello, Derian.” Emily couldn’t keep the pleasure at seeing her from her voice. So much for the firm grip on reality. She ought to move out of the way, let Derian go to Aud, who’d accompanied her, after all, but she couldn’t escape the hold of Derian’s gaze. Despite the clouds roiling in Derian’s eyes, Emily grew even warmer, as if she’d stepped into a pool of sunshine on an overcast day. She couldn’t give up that heat, even if she risked being burned. Not yet.
“Emily, you’re here,” Derian said, struck by a wave of relief that left her light-headed. She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted to see her until Emily’s steady, compassionate voice enfolded her. She ought to be wary of such an atypical reaction, but she didn’t have the energy to fight what she needed just then. Emily was here, and just seeing her helped ease some of the fear clawing at her insides. “I was going to call you.”
Emily reached for her hand and stopped, as if an invisible wall stood between them. “How is she?”
“She was awake a bit. She sounded like herself, just really weak.”
Emily sighed. “Oh, that’s great news.”
Aud stepped beside them, running a hand down Derian’s arm. “Is surgery still scheduled?”
Derian glanced at Aud, all her senses still attuned to Emily, as if a giant magnet aimed at the center of her chest drew her in that direction. “Yes, momentarily. They were preparing to take her to the OR just now.”
Behind them, the ICU doors opened with a hydraulic rush. Two men and three women pushed a stretcher half the size of a hospital bed laden with monitors, bags of IV fluid, an oxygen tank, charts and papers, and mounds of other equipment. Henrietta was lost in the midst of that chaos, and the fear simmering in Derian’s middle flashed into an outpouring of choking dread. She hurried to catch up to the rocketing stretcher, searching beneath the sheets and apparatus for Henrietta’s hand.
“HW,” she murmured urgently, “it’s Derian. I’ll see you in a while, okay?”
Henrietta didn’t answer, but her fingers tightened on Derian’s.
“You’ll be fine.” Derian’s back brushed the wall as the team halted in front of the elevator. The doors opened and Derian searched desperately for a way to stop the madness.
“I’m afraid you can’t come any farther. I’ll keep you updated,” the ICU fellow said.
“I love you,” Derian said as Henrietta’s hand slipped from hers and the team maneuvered the bed into the elevator. Derian stood in the doorway. “Where—”
The doors slid shut and she was left staring at nothing, more helpless than she had ever been in her life. She clenched her hands, a breath away from beating on the shiny metal surface. “Dammit.”
Emily was suddenly at her side, grasping her arm. “Come on. They’ll look for you in the waiting area.”
Derian glanced at her, momentarily torn. She hated waiting, hated being helpless. She sucked in a breath. “Right. Right. You’re right. Thanks.”
Emily smiled. “No thanks required.”
Aud had halted a way down the hall and fumbled in her shoulder bag. She pulled out her phone, looked at it, and frowned. “Oh, for God’s sake.”
“Problem?” Derian asked as she walked up.
Aud dropped the phone into her bag and stared at Derian, clearly weighing her options. She let out a long breath. “I’m going to have to go. I’m so sorry.”
Derian grimaced, a chill rippling through her. “Let me guess. Martin has summoned you to the office. Did you tell him where you were?”
“Yes, of course.”
“With me?”
“Dere,” Aud said, an unusual pleading note in her voice. “He’s my client and Henrietta’s family. I had—”
“Never mind. You should go. You don’t want to keep him waiting. He might have a company to buy or something equally important.”
Aud glanced from Emily to Derian, her cheeks flushing. “Really, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You’ll call me?” Aud pushed the down button on the elevator bank.
“Sure,” Derian said wearily.
“I wouldn’t go if I didn’t have to, Dere. You know that.”
Derian squeezed the bridge of her nose and nodded. “I know. It’s okay.”
Emily spoke into the sudden silence as the elevator doors closed. “I was going to stay, if you don’t mind the company.”
“I wouldn’t mind at all.” Derian smiled ruefully. “Sorry about the family drama. Martin knows how to push all my buttons.”
“No need to explain,” Emily said softly.
“I’m glad you’re here. I hate waiting.”
“I’d say you get used to it, but that’s not true.” Emily remembered well the barely tolerable panic when everything in the world spun out of control and one crisis piled on top of another. Time became a blur of adrenaline-fueled anxiety and stretches of soul-sapping waiting. She rested her hand lightly in the center of Derian’s back. “Come on. Do you want som
e coffee?”
Derian grimaced and dropped into a dull orange fabric sofa against the wall. Two matching chairs flanked it, along with a faux-leather sofa on the opposite wall. The carpet was industrial-grade dark brown fabric. “No. I’ve had more than enough.”
Emily sat next to Derian. “Have you had anything to eat?”
“Breakfast. I’m good.”
Emily remembered. Breakfast with Audrey. She’d conveniently forgotten that. And she conveniently wasn’t going to think about how they came to be together first thing in the morning, or what might’ve happened before breakfast, or last night, more accurately. She had, after all, turned down Derian’s fairly subtle but unmistakable invitation to stay the evening before. An invitation that could only have meant time in bed. Of course she’d said no, and why wouldn’t Derian look for other company? Especially with someone like Aud, an incredibly attractive woman with whom she shared a history and obvious deep affection. They were probably part-time lovers.
“What about you?” Derian asked.
Emily jumped. “Sorry? What about me?”
Derian gave her a curious glance. “Have you eaten?”
“Tea and a cookie about…” She shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “What feels like a million years ago, but I don’t want to go anywhere.”
“I bet I can find someplace to deliver.”
Emily grasped Derian’s arm when she reached for her phone. “No, really. I mean, I’m certain that you can. But I don’t want you to. I’m too nervous to eat anyway. I’ll be hungry later when we have good news.”
Derian turned her hand over and Emily’s palm slid easily over hers. Emily stared at their hands together. She couldn’t. She didn’t even know her. Even as she thought the words, she slid her fingers between Derian’s and squeezed gently. “It really is going to be all right.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Emily reluctantly extracted her hand from Derian’s. “Just sit and close your eyes for a while, then. It will help.”
Derian glanced at her. “You sound like you’ve had some experience.”