“Beat up.”
“I’ll bet.”
“There was a car accident?”
“Yes. You drove off the road and the car rolled. The doctor said you’re lucky you’d already slowed down. If you’d been going the speed limit, you could have really hurt yourself.”
Considering how he felt now, he didn’t want to know what actually hurting himself would be like. “My grandmother...”
“I’ve already called Nana Winifred. She knows you’re all right.” Violet hesitated. “You have a mild concussion, a lot of bruising, a sprained ankle and some cuts and lacerations. You’re basically a mess, but you’re going to make a full recovery.”
He risked looking at her again and was pleased when she stayed just herself. “Good to know.”
“You won’t be able to fly for a while and you’re going to need someone to look after you, so I volunteered. It was that or your grandmother was going to fly over here and take care of you herself. I didn’t think you’d want that.”
“Hardly.”
His grandmother wouldn’t do well on such a long journey and seeing him in a hospital bed would remind her of all the times her son had been bedridden.
“How long will I be in hospital?” he asked.
She smiled. “You’re so very British.”
“I don’t understand.”
“In hospital. We say in the hospital.”
“That would be incorrect terminology.”
She laughed. “You must be feeling better.”
He wasn’t, but he liked having her around. When he could see her and hear her voice, the pain wasn’t so bad.
“Was there a giraffe?” he asked, hoping the question didn’t mean he had to see a neurologist.
Violet surprised him by wincing. “I’m really sorry about that. Yes, there was a giraffe. Millie got out. She’s never done that before. We’re pretty sure it’s Sophie’s influence which, when you think about it, is more than a little scary. I mean Sophie was just there yesterday and already Millie’s breaking out?”
He let his eyes close again. “Who is Sophie?”
“A beagle.”
Maybe he’d hit his head harder than he’d realized.
Violet leaned close. He felt her soft breath on his cheek a nanosecond before she kissed him. “Don’t try to figure it out, Ulrich. I’ll explain it all when you’re feeling better. Get some rest. If all goes well, they’re going to spring you in the morning. I’m going to leave for a couple of hours to get ready for my nursing stint, then I’ll be back.”
“Hurry,” he murmured before he could stop himself.
“I will.”
* * *
MATHIAS ARRIVED AT the studio at his usual time, only to discover there wasn’t any parking. Every space was taken and there was a line outside the gallery. It took him a second to remember it was sale day and that brought out the shoppers.
Mathias headed around the block and found a spot, then made sure Sophie’s leash was secure before letting her out of the car. He heard that somehow the crafty beagle had taught Millie to escape, causing a car accident on the road out of town.
“I’m not letting you get loose again,” he told her as they walked back toward the studio.
Sophie offered a doggie grin of support and apology as she trotted along at his side. He circled around the line and went in the rear door of the studio. When he unclipped Sophie, she made a beeline for the gallery and Natalie, who not only looked after her much of the day but also kept treats in her desk. He’d barely finished his first check of the ovens before starting work when Natalie appeared with Sophie at her heels.
“I can’t keep her today,” she said. “I have to work one of the cash registers. Did you see the crowds?”
“I did.” He glanced at Sophie. No way he would be getting much work done with her underfoot. Sophie and molten glass would not be a good mix.
“It’s your own fault,” Natalie added with a laugh. “If people didn’t love your work, they wouldn’t line up before dawn. It’s not often a gifted artist has a sale. We’ll have sold out by noon, I promise. Then I can take Sophie.”
A couple of times a year Atsuko had a big sale of Mathias’s unsuccessful pieces. Bowls and vases and plates that were irregular in some way. The color might be wrong or the shape slightly off.
The sale had started out as a joke, but it had caught on and now was a big deal. People actually lined up to get his pieces at a bargain price. Plates that normally sold for a hundred dollars apiece went for five. Thousand-dollar vases were twenty-five dollars and so on.
“I’ll clean up around here,” he said. “Let me know when you can take Sophie.”
“I will.”
Mathias walked to his desk and stared at the piles of paperwork he mostly ignored. It was going to be a long morning.
* * *
A LITTLE BEFORE ten he checked in at the gallery. There was still a huge crowd, although most of his pieces were gone. As he watched, an older woman carefully put a dollar in the Millie can, then carried her purchase out of the studio.
Mathias thought about the sad giraffe and calculated about how much he thought he would make from the day. Even if he donated every cent, it wasn’t going to be enough.
He stared at the display of Ronan’s glass. The flower sculptures for three hundred thousand. The starfish array for two hundred and twenty-five thousand. What were they doing, messing around with nickels and dimes?
He returned to the studio and called for Sophie. After putting on her leash, he led her to his Mercedes. They drove east, then north, up into the foothills. Ronan lived a few miles above the tree line.
When the brothers had first moved to Happily Inc they’d rented a big house together as they’d done their best to come to terms with what had happened. After a few months, Ronan had found the house in the mountains and had bought it—without saying a word. Mathias had been surprised and hurt, but he’d kept both to himself. Instead he’d purchased his place on the edge of the animal preserve.
He wasn’t sure if that was when the trouble had started—when they’d stopped living together—or if it had been before when Ronan had simply left Fool’s Gold, leaving Mathias to follow or not. Until his father’s heart attack, he and Ronan had believed they were fraternal twins. They’d done everything together. More than once, they’d dated sisters. But everything had changed with one simple sentence.
You’re my bastard from an affair.
Mathias got that Ronan had been blindsided by the information and that everything was different now. But what his brother didn’t seem to understand was that everything had changed for Mathias, as well. His identity had been rocked, all his memories altered.
He and Ronan had come to Happily Inc to get away from Ceallach and to figure out who and what they were now. Mathias had assumed they would work through the problem and get on with their lives. He hadn’t counted on Ronan pulling back until they were barely speaking.
Mathias parked in front of the large stone house. The place had to be at least fifty years old. It was huge, with giant windows and a massive double front door. Trees grew all around it, making the house appear to have sprung from the very earth itself.
He got out and checked Sophie’s leash before letting her jump to the ground. No way he was letting her loose on the side of a mountain—he would never see her again.
After she’d sniffed, peed and sniffed again, he guided her around the back of the house to the studio. The sprawling structure had once been a barn or maybe a stable. Ronan had converted it when he’d first moved in. There were ovens and all the equipment he needed to work. Mathias wondered why he bothered to come down the mountain at all.
The door to the studio stood open. Mathias entered without knocking and found Ronan staring at a to-scale dra
wing on the side of the wall. It showed his latest installation—the swan to dragon morphing.
His brother didn’t react to seeing him beyond a noncommittal “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” Mathias kept a firm hold on Sophie. “Carol needs money to buy Millie a herd of giraffes.”
“I know.”
“She needs nearly half a million dollars. It’s going to take too long. Donate something so Atsuko can have a gallery event and sell it.”
“Sure.” He nodded toward the storage room in the back. “Take something or have Carol pick a piece herself. Take ten. I don’t care.”
There had been a time when Mathias had known everything his brother was thinking. Back then he would have known what was behind the offer. Was it done out of concern for Millie or lack of interest in continuing the conversation? He no longer knew. Ronan had become a stranger.
“Okay, then. I’ll have her call before she stops by.”
“Good. Anything else?”
There were a thousand things they had to talk about. Whatever Ceallach had said or done, they were still family. Still brothers. Shouldn’t they have been able to stay close?
Mathias already knew the answer to that question. Every time he reached out to his brother, Ronan drew back just a little further. Eventually Mathias had stopped trying, afraid his brother would disappear altogether.
Mathias jerked his head at the sketch on the wall. “Let me know if you need any help with that.” Because when it came to glass blowing, a second set of hands was always welcome and often needed and Ronan’s interns only worked part-time.
“I will.”
Mathias waited but there didn’t seem to be anything else left to say.
“Thanks,” he muttered, then walked out of the studio and back to his car.
Sophie trotted at his side, her expression questioning as if she wanted to know why they’d come all this way only to leave so quickly. He didn’t have an answer for her or for himself, but at least the Millie problem had been solved.
* * *
CAROL GLANCED AT the suitcase and three tote bags her sister had brought over. “More proof the dinner went really well,” she teased. “You’re really going to stay here? Not that the room isn’t lovely.”
Violet rolled her eyes. “He can’t stay at my place—it’s upstairs, which he can’t currently climb. Here, there’s an elevator. Besides, I’m taking care of a sick person. You have to respect that.”
“I’d respect it more if he weren’t good-looking.” She looked around at the oddly decorated room. Wallpaper depicted some kind of mountain range in the distance with way too many wildflowers in the foreground. The bed was four-poster, the furniture on the rustic side. She’d caught a glimpse of the bathroom and it had appeared totally normal. “Okay, I don’t get it. What’s the theme?”
“Heidi.”
Carol frowned, processing the name. “You mean the book?”
“That’s the one. This is supposed to be a mountain chalet.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
“It’s not what I would have picked,” Violet admitted as she looked through the totes. “But it’s adjoining Ulrich’s room, which makes my life easier.”
“I never saw you as the private nurse type. Are you getting a uniform? Maybe one with a short skirt?”
“The man is injured.”
“All the easier to seduce him.”
“I’m ignoring you,” Violet told her.
“Ignoring the truth doesn’t make it go away.”
Her sister laughed as Carol had known she would. As for taking care of Ulrich, that didn’t surprise Carol, either. Violet was a good person with a big heart. No matter what she thought of Ulrich—he was alone and injured—she would be there for him. The sexy accent was only a bonus.
“You spoke to his grandmother?”
“Three times. She wants regular reports. He should be able to travel in a week or so.”
“That’s a long time for you to take off work.”
“According to the doctor, Ulrich should be up and walking in a couple of days. Once I know he’s making progress, I’ll go in for a few hours at a time.”
“Plus most of what you do happens over the internet and through the mail. Let me know how I can help.”
“I will.”
Carol knew that her sister would be bringing Ulrich back to the hotel later that morning. “Want me to pick up takeout for dinner?”
“I think we’ll just order room service, but I might ask you for tomorrow.”
“Just say the word.”
Violet put the suitcase on the bed and pulled out several tops. She hung them in the closet. “How are things with you?” she asked when she returned to the bed. “Any word from Mathias?”
Not a question Carol wanted to answer. Which must have shown on her face because her sister dropped the blouse she was holding and stared at her.
“What?”
Crap. No, double crap. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t remember.” Or he was faking not remembering, which was too humiliating to say to anyone, including Violet.
“No. Seriously? He doesn’t—” Violet’s expression turned sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. It’s weird and upsetting and I don’t know what to do. I can’t bring it up.” She shook her head. “Technically I can, but I’m not going to. This is already a personal low. I don’t need to make things worse. I guess I’m going to pretend it never happened, right along with him.”
She braced herself for a lecture, but Violet only hugged her.
“Can you really do that?”
“Sure. I think so. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m going to try. The alternative is too awful to think about. You won’t say anything, will you?”
Her sister hugged her again. “Not even for ice cream.”
Carol relaxed. That was a promise she could trust.
* * *
VIOLET DID HER best not to look as awkward as she felt. It was one thing to promise to take care of Ulrich while he was recovering, but quite another to actually do it. She barely knew the man—what on earth was she doing in his hotel room? A silly question to which she knew the answer, but still. Weirdness all around.
His grandmother had insisted he be delivered back to the hotel via ambulance. The nice driver and his assistant had brought Ulrich upstairs in a wheelchair, then had got him settled in his bed. Violet was already moved into her small room next door and she had a plan for the night. Rest for her patient, a simple room service dinner, then early to bed. She would deal with everything else tomorrow.
She gave Ulrich an extra five minutes to get comfortable in his bed, then knocked once and opened the door between their two rooms.
“How are you feeling?” she asked cheerfully, hoping she didn’t look as suddenly nervous as she felt. She glanced at him, found the sight of him in bed far too intimate and settled on staring at a safe spot somewhere slightly above his head.
“Foolish, mostly. You don’t have to stay with me.”
“That’s not what your grandmother said and while you might not be afraid of her, I am. Seriously, do you doubt her ability to fly out here and whack me with her cane?”
“I have felt the power of that cane more than once. It’s not something you’d enjoy. Now come and sit here so we can work out what, exactly, is our plan.”
A sensible suggestion, she thought as she picked up the desk chair and carried it over to his bed. She ran her hands along the side of the red Cadillac and smiled.
“Does recovering in a car bed make you feel more or less foolish?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s an excellent question. I would suppose more foolish. It’s hard to look dignified in these settings.”
Without thinking she
let her gaze drift over his face and somehow became mesmerized by his dark blue eyes. Even pale, bruised and slightly drugged, he was one good-looking guy, she thought. And that accent!
Not anything she could dwell on right now, she reminded herself. He was her patient and while she might not be a medical professional, she did have certain responsibilities to keep things circumspect. He was already injured. She didn’t want him worried she was going to throw herself at him.
“Are you still feeling dizzy?” she asked.
He hesitated just long enough for her to guess at the answer.
“It’s not bad,” he told her. “Better than yesterday. Not that I can convince my grandmother. I’ve already had to send her three selfies so she can see for herself that I’m going to be all right. I would appreciate anything you can do to reassure her.”
“Of course. I’m sure we’ll be talking in the next fifteen minutes.” Violet thought about her conversations with Ulrich’s grandmother. “She doesn’t want to lose you.”
“I know. She worries.” He hesitated. “I don’t know if she ever mentioned, my father was in a very bad car accident when he was a teenager. He never fully recovered and spent the rest of his life using crutches or a wheelchair. She was devastated by that, and later by his early death.”
Violet nodded. She’d never met Ulrich’s father, but had heard about him in the letters she and Nana Winifred exchanged. The older woman had been crushed when her son had died a few years ago.
“You’re all she has,” she said quietly. “I’ll make sure I reassure her.”
“Good. She’s too frail to make her way here, although she would certainly make the attempt if she thought she was needed.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not risking the cane. All my reports will be upbeat.”
Her unimpressive attempt at humor earned her a slight smile, which generated a little quiver in her stomach. Okay, she might not have caring for an English aristocrat on her schedule this week, but it was hardly difficult duty.
“I thought we’d have a quiet evening tonight,” she said, changing the subject. “Dinner in, some mindless television, then an early bedtime for you. I put together a schedule for your medications. They’ll be tapering off in the next couple of days, so I’ll only have to disturb you for the first two nights.”
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