Too Lucky to Live

by Annie Hogsett

  “Wait.”

  Tom took a deep breath. “Stop. There’s something I need to say, Rune.”

  And Rune, who I guess had been paying more attention than I thought, answered, “What, Tom?”

  If I hadn’t already been in love with Tom Bennington for nearly three full weeks, that moment would have tipped me over.

  I watched him get a grip on himself. I could see his determination to say what he had to say without hurting Rune or making trouble with Iona. He moved toward the boy, navigating the space between them with that magical certainty, and crouched down, close. I knew he would sense the warmth coming off Rune’s skin, his little boy sweetness. This son he now knew he wasn’t going to have.

  But Tom’s voice was calm and warm, no trace of the tears I was pushing back. “Rune, I need to make sure you know something about me. I don’t have many close friends. Friends I’d do anything for.”

  Anything.

  Kid, you have no idea, I thought, clenching every muscle in my chest to trap a sob that was fighting to get out. I could see Rune lying again on that wooden box, asleep in the light, and Tom standing up to death in the dark. Ready to sacrifice every single thing for one small boy.

  “You’re someone special to me, Rune. You and I are that kind of friends. I’m so happy for you. You’re going to live with Iona and Clarence and Damon and—” He actually managed a smile “three more brothers. A family. Your own family. That’s amazing. And lucky.”

  Rune nodded, a tiny bob of his head. His face was solemn now, his eyes fixed on Tom. I hoped Tom was feeling everything that I could see.

  “Rune, you’re family to me, too.” He laid his hand against his chest. There was the slightest tremor in those beautiful fingers. “You’re in here. For good. For always. I will always be listening for you. If you ever need me, for anything. Just to talk. Maybe come for a visit. Anything. At all. Iona has my number. Just call. Anytime. I’d like that. I hope you’ll e-mail me, too. Sometimes—” His voice failed him at last.

  Rune was staring at Tom now, his own fist pressed hard against the new tee-shirt Iona had brought. “Tom? Are you crying?”

  Tom cleared his throat. “Yes, Rune. I sure am. I’m happy for you, but I’m still sad for me and Allie. We’ll miss you. Until we see you next time.”

  With that, Tom reached out and pulled Rune tight against his heart and the sob I’d been hanging onto broke through my last defenses. Behind me, someone—Iona, I thought—blew her nose. Rune clung to Tom for another moment and then rubbed his face against the front of Tom’s shirt.

  “Okay, Tom. I promise I won’t forget. Can I really come to visit you? Will Allie be there, too?”

  “Yes. Really. I hope it’ll be soon. And about that last thing? God, I sure hope so.”

  I sobbed some more, feeling a small scrap better.

  Another couple of minutes and we were standing by our rented car.

  Two again.

  The sorrow Tom had been holding in was all over him now. He’d collapsed against the car door, his shoulders slumped, his arms crossed across his heart. I was afraid to touch him. Afraid he might break.

  “I’m so sorry, Tom. I’m sorry for both of us.”

  I was struggling to banish from my memory that moment over lunch at the Rock Hall. All the moments when we were both risking everything to get Rune back. This was not fair. It hurt too much. I took a deep breath, not wanting to let him hear how close I was to losing it all the way down.

  “Iona seems like a very good person.”

  He wiped his hand across his face. “Tell me what she looks like.”

  “How about you tell me?”

  He sighed and cleared his throat. “Okay. Very lovely. Very brown. Like strong coffee. Five-four. About one-fifty, to be polite. Big flowers on her dress, sensible shoes. Hair like your fourth grade teacher. Nice eyes. Nice smile. Smart. Someone you’d trust with a kid you cared a lot about. Loved.” His voice cracked again.

  “Remarkable,” I managed to choke out. “Everything but the dress. How do you do that?” And then because I was desperate to make him smile, “Or have you been faking blindness so you could see me naked?”

  I didn’t get my smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched a sad little bit. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “Don’t get too thrilled with yourself. I knew it all along. But Tom…?”

  He’d slipped back under the sorrow of everything we’d lost. “What?”

  “Look at it this way. If his aunt and uncle are now his mom and dad, Rune will be short one aunt and one uncle.

  “You and me, I suppose.”

  “Iona promised we could visit whenever we wanted. Think about it, Tom. She’s got a houseful. Rune makes five boys. Plus a husband and a career. Once she gets to know us better, she’ll be glad to share him. For weeks at a time, I bet. Whole summers maybe. He loves you, Tom. He hasn’t forgotten that. You know he’ll want to spend time with us. He’s already thinking about it. You can help with expenses. For all of them. When Rune comes home from college it’ll be you he wants to visit, too. It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

  “Would you stop making painful references to my disability?”

  “You’re way too sensitive,” I kissed his smooth, manly cheek, trying to coax that dimple out of hiding. “I think we need to go practice your Braille.”

  Chapter Sixty-two

  I drove us back to the old neighborhood, taking the long way around but not too paranoid about who was behind us. We picked up Margo and took her out to lunch at The Flying Fig over by West 25th. They’ve got some tempura green beans there you’d rob your grandma for. Anyway, Margo was sure she would.

  We didn’t talk about Rune. Margo had taken one look at the two of us and seized command of the conversation. At her insistence, we reviewed our health-and-well-being preservation plan, which consisted for the most part of being heads-up and maybe traveling for a while until things died down some more. After The Lester Episode, Tom had thrown in the towel and taken a one-semester leave from teaching.

  On the bright side, there was considerable evidence in recent news coverage that trying to steal Tom’s millions got people dead. In quantity. Or at the very least, discredited and embarrassed, to about the tenth power. So maybe they’d all wise up and leave us alone. I was trying to bank on that.

  We had one police guy on our side, at least. More or less.

  Valerio and I had another conversation after he got out of the Clinic. The Renata Mystery was most likely unsolvable now, but her earthly remains were available for a service if we wanted one. We would, I knew. Closure for Rune. Closure for everybody. For us, especially, now when we needed to be the Cleveland branch of the Davis family.

  Valerio had a good word for me, too. I hardly knew how to deal with that.

  “Don’t take this as encouragement.”

  “What? Don’t take what?”

  “What I’m about to say.

  “Oh, Tony, I would never take anything you say as encouragement.”

  The patented Valerio snort. “I want you to stop blaming yourself for the sh—the stuff that happened. You and Tom. It’s a waste of energy. Take my word for it. There’s always plenty of blame to go around. You need to be responsible as best you can and then forgive yourself for whatever’s left over. You were an idiot. No doubt. But not as bad as I would have figured.

  “Here’s your last CSI lesson, girl. In the real world, when all’s said and done—or not done—there are almost never any high fives. You did okay. For a wannabee. Quit while you’re ahead.”

  On a more comforting note from law enforcement, I’d had a call from Otis Johnson, my parking garage hero. In spite of getting feeble prayer assistance from me, he was recovering from his quadruple bypass. I assured him he could always count on Tom for whatever he needed.

  After the pleasantr
ies, he had a question for me. “Ms. Harper, you and the mister—the doctor. You all are going to need a bodyguard, right?”

  “Allie. Call me Allie, Otis. A bodyguard? We hadn’t given that any serious thought. I suppose we might. Maybe.”

  “No maybes. You all are going to need a bodyguard. And I was wondering if I could be it? They say I’m going to be fine. Good as new. Better. As soon as I recover from the surgery. I’m already workin’ out a little.

  “I don’t want to go back to the Arco. For a lot of reasons. But I’d make you an excellent bodyguard. Didn’t I already save your life once?”

  He had me there. “Yes, indeed, Otis, you already did. Let me talk to Tom. We’ll figure this out. Keep getting better and I’ll talk to you soon.”

  A bodyguard sounded awful. A bodyguard who was Otis didn’t sound half bad.

  We were on the move again. It was too soon for either of us to go home. There was still considerable straightening up to be done at my house. Ditto for his house. The Marriott and the Wyndham had been fine. The Price Motel had been serviceable. But now that our ship had docked at last, we deserved the priciest. At least once.

  Chapter Sixty-three

  After we dropped Margo off, I drove us straight on downtown to The Ritz-Carlton, Cleveland, where they checked us, very deferentially, into the actual Presidential Suite in spite of our obvious lack of luggage and our casual attire. They’ve come a long way at that hotel since they refused to serve Tom Hanks because he was wearing jeans. I didn’t even have to reassure them that we didn’t plan to be wearing any of our current attire very long anyhow.

  I’d never had full access to over-the-top extreme luxury before, so I was impressed by the Jacuzzi, the champagne, the floating rose petals. However, I had had considerable access to extreme Tom, so the suite’s formidable amenities were not the most anticipated or impressive aspect of my evening. All in all, The Ritz-Carlton, Cleveland, did not disappoint.

  Later, much later, after we’d had another rose petal bath—being careful not to wet my small bandage or drown anybody—and the whole bottle of champagne with a boatload of lovely room service food, we were sprawled on the king-sized bed—which didn’t seem to have its own special name—wearing our fluffy complementary robes and talking about our future. I told Tom how I’d had my little epiphany that terrible Diana night at the Wyndham. How I’d seen that his work meshed with what he wanted in his life.

  But then I got quiet and asked myself what it was that I, Alice-Jane-Allie-Harper, wanted in my life. Besides more Tom and as much Rune as we could get.

  There it was. My question again.

  I was embedded in the cushiness of R. Carlton, The Mattress, as I’d decided to refer to it, lying so still I could hear my heart, bumping away. Alive. Alive. Alive. My little heart. I’d scared its pants off about one hundred times in the past three weeks. Overdosed it on pure adrenalin, utter stupidity, and the threat of extinction. So why did it feel all bright and bouncy?

  Because, Allie, I explained to myself, you’re not the lost girl you were. You got your self-respect back. Your guts and your brains. You survived. You’re entitled to feel good about it.

  I grinned, visualizing myself jamming an elbow into Lester’s fat belly, dousing us both in Eau de Too Much. And another thing, Allie girl, I said to me, you were never cut out to be a part-time librarian. That was your lick-your-wounds-and-hide interlude. That crap is over. “No disrespect, Library.”

  Tom stirred. “Huh?”

  I realized I’d spoken that “No disrespect” bit out loud.

  “Nothing. I was thinking.”

  He’d been quiet for so long, eyes closed, I’d thought the champagne might have waylaid him. But it hadn’t.

  “Me, too. I’m thinking I’m not the same guy, Allie. The guy who had made himself a nice, safe path through the world. That narrow path was all the independence he could imagine. He was naïve. He’d never spent his last night on Earth with the woman he loved.” A sly smile. “A far as that goes, he’d never spent his first night of being incredibly wealthy with a sexy young thing he picked up in a crosswalk.”

  I rolled over and placed my hand on his chest, “That was me. I was attracted by the smell of money. Or maybe it was the soap.”

  He curled his hand over mine, serious again. “That poor, stupid guy. He had everything figured out. He was getting along okay, Allie. But I think he may be gone now. He might even be dead. This guy…” he tapped our joined hands on his chest. “This guy here is prepared to explore all kinds of different options. With the woman he loves.”

  “Me again.”

  “You again.” He sighed. “The money still isn’t a big deal to me, Allie. If it were gone tomorrow, I’d be fine. We’d be fine. Except for your credit rating, of course. And the bill to get us out of here. But in some ways, Bob was justified in being angry. The money is an extraordinary gift. I was wrong to turn my back on the good it could do.”

  Carpe this opening, Allie.

  “Well, you know what could be interesting? A way we could do some good? Help some people? I’ve been thinking. Maybe you and I could be the—um—T&A Detective Agency.”

  He looked slightly nonplussed. “I’m not sure what that would be, but may I suggest we put your initial first? In any case.”

  “That’s thoughtful of you. Thanks…”

  Oh! Right.

  “But seriously. I always thought I’d make a very good P.I. Not all by myself. At least at first. But with both of us, Tom & Allie—or Allie & Tom—solving mysteries, fighting crime, but mostly helping people find things and answer their questions.” I didn’t want to press my luck too far. “From a safe distance and using your money. Judiciously, of course. And having Otis on the payroll for bodyguarding and professional expertise. And Valerio around to yell at me, of course. With maybe Margo for…swearing and pasta. With your secret sixth sense and my 20/20 vision and sex appeal? We’d make a great duo. Trio. Team. Could we do that, do you think? Someday?”

  He pulled me closer and nuzzled the very rose-petally spot behind my ear. “Alice Jane. Honey.” He murmured in his best, sexiest, Southern drawl, “We’re crazy rich. We can do anything we want.”

  “Perfect,” I murmured back, “that’s what I like to hear. Let’s try some of that anything. Right now. Before your coupon expires.”

  More from this Author

  For other books, upcoming author events, or more information please go to:

  www.poisonedpenpress.com/Annie-Hogsett

  Contact Us

  To see more Poisoned Pen Press titles:

  Visit our website: poisonedpenpress.com/

  Request a digital catalog: info@poisonedpenpress.com