by Lori Flynn
Chapter Sixty-Three
Olivia
“Ben’s here?” Olivia gasped. “Are you sure, Jill? Don’t lie to me. I’ll know. Your mouth twitches.” Her eyes prowled the restaurant until Jill gripped her upper arm and pressed her back in her chair.
“Don’t let this throw you,” Melody said. “He’s at two o’clock, over my right shoulder.”
Olivia lifted her wine glass, took a gulp and peeked. Ben wore the dark blue pinstriped suit she loved. Their eyes met. His seemed surprised. Something the blonde sitting beside him said made him laugh. What’d she say? Maybe the technique she uses to cover her black roots? Olivia forced herself to look away and swallow the vomit rising in her throat.
“We’re walking out of here,” Melody continued. “You’ve got his attention. Let the wimp see what he’s missing.”
Olivia nodded. Her legs shook as she stood and wobbled when she walked from the restaurant, chin up, flanked on each side by her friends.
“Breathe, Olivia, you’re doing great,” Jill said.
“We’re proud of you,” Melody added. “The valet’s getting the car.”
Sweat ran down her back. Her stomach tightened. Olivia slowed. “I’m gonna hurl.”
Jill held Olivia’s hair back as she leaned over a bush. “Watch your shoes; they’re Manolo Blahniks.”
“Feeling better?” Melody asked. “Car’s here.”
Olivia shook her head. “Let’s just go.”
She stared out the windshield, wiping tears with her palms. Witnessing the progression of Ben’s life without her brought her worst nightmare to fruition. Does he think of me?
“Exactly who’s he with?” Olivia sighed.
“Lawyer-types; counting him, three men and three women,” Jill answered from the backseat. “Ben came in with the tall, leggy blonde. His hand was on her low back,” Jill squeezed Olivia’s shoulders.
“Her back isn’t up her skirt.” Melody pulled her hand from the wheel to pat Olivia’s knee.
Jill shook her head. “You didn’t see his body language. I know a full-court press when I see one.”
While Olivia sniffed, Melody glared through the rearview mirror.
Jill scowled toward Melody’s reflection, narrowing her eyes. “What did you expect me to do? Sprint over there and stab him with my dessert fork?”
They drove to the rhythm of Olivia’s sobs until they pulled through the gates of Casa Nonna. “That looney bin must’ve helped you, or we’d be talking to Delila or Sophie right now. We’re not, right?”
Olivia smiled through tears. “It’s me. Not so long ago, what happened tonight would’ve been breaking news on the evening broadcast. Delila would’ve seen to it—a drink in Ben’s face while announcing his shortcomings to the crowd.”
“Damn,” Jill said. “Sorry we missed that.”
The weekend had started so hopeful, hugs, laughs, and memories of the spa day that Olivia couldn’t wait to share with Dr. Coffield. Then she saw Ben, and everything changed.
“Sure you don’t want us to stay?” Jill and Melody asked when Olivia told them to go.
Lily, Webster, and Buckley whined, watched, and worried as Olivia paced, cursed and cried that Sunday night. She checked the clock, frequently, determined to hold on until her morning session, before reaching for the phone.
“Dr. Coffield? I’m coming back.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Olivia
Olivia drove the winding road behind Palm Haven. The session had drained her. Sixty minutes of dissecting my feelings about seeing Ben felt like sixty years. Although Dr. Coffield seemed encouraged and used words like progress, her coming back wasn’t an option he’d entertain.
The sudden shrill of her cell phone tightened her grip on the wheel.
“Olivia Harding? I’m Dr. Gordon Shepherd from Harding Towers. I’ve had to place your grandmother under an intensive cardiac watch. Her heartbeat is irregular, and her heart rate’s causing shortness of breath.”
“I’m on my way.” Olivia scraped her hand through her hair. We talked a few days ago. She sounded fine.
Flooring her Ferrari, she darted between cars as if they were parked, then thought of her recent history and slowed. She used the breathing techniques Dr. Coffield had taught her to keep from throwing up, passing out, or both. After navigating the gates at Harding Towers, she pulled in front of the lavish entrance and ignored the no-parking signs, then leaped the stairs like hurdles on an obstacle course.
Dr. Shepherd waited in the richly-decorated lobby. Tall and slender, his hard-to-ignore steel blue eyes greeted her. Taking Olivia’s hand, he led her toward the penthouse.
Catherine was propped in bed by silk-covered pillows. To her left, Nanny stood at attention, while a nurse hovered on the right. The television in the corner blasted her grandmother’s favorite soap opera, and a smattering of gardening magazines lay on the bed. She looked like she’d just stirred from a restful nap.
“Olivia, did that worrywart call you? I told him not to. You’d think someone would listen when you own the whole goddamned building.” She struggled for breath. “Come here, let’s talk.” She extended a hand to her granddaughter.
Catherine’s head dropped to her chest. “I have regrets, should’ve seen the abuse earlier, and removed you from it. Your life would’ve been so different.” Tears wet her pillow.
“You saved me, Grandmother. If not for you, that monster would’ve killed me. I’m grateful for my life, for you.” Their tears blended.
Olivia stayed by her bedside while her grandmother drifted in and out of sleep until late afternoon.
“Head home honey,” Catherine said. “And don’t worry. If I as much as wet the bed, they’ll call you. Will you check your home office for a file with my name on it? I’m missing one. I’m hoping I left it there.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes. “Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”
“I’m tired, need a nap.”
“All right,” Olivia kissed her grandmother’s pale cheek. “Sleep well. Love you.”
She reached the doorway where Dr. Shepherd’s relaxed frame leaned. How long has he been there?
“My grandmother’s sending me home for the night. She needs her rest.”
“True. I’ll walk you out,” the doctor said, disarming her with his smile.
“I understand her condition’s serious, Dr. Shepherd,” Olivia said when they reached the elevator. “How long does she have?”
“I can’t give a timeline. Considering your grandmother’s age, three heart attacks, and decades of hypertension, she’s pretty lucky. But her systems are breaking down. And please, my name’s Gordon.”
His assessment knocked Olivia back and gave her a stabbing pain in her right eye. She rested her head in her hands. “She said she signed a DNR and wanted me to accept her decision. Do I have a choice?”
“Not in this case. Catherine requested the Do Not Resuscitate months ago. Your grandmother wants the remainder of her affairs in order. She had me call her attorney earlier. He’s on his way.”
Crap! I just figured out what she’s doing. She’s trying to protect me. There’s no bogus file. “The attorney Mrs. Harding asked you to call, is his name Ben Thornton?”
“It is.”
Olivia’s stomach clenched. “I should go. Thanks for your time. Please call with any news.” She hurried to avoid an accidental meeting with Ben. Their paths would cross, but not today, not yet.
At Casa Nonna, she searched the office for her grandmother’s file. The dogs joined her for a run on the beach when she couldn’t sleep. She bent to lift Lily, and her cell phone alerted from her back pocket.
“It’s Gordon. Your grandmother’s resting comfortably this evening.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the call. Goodnight.” Olivia shut her eyes and sighed heavily. I feel better about Grandmother Catherine, but Ben was there. Why didn’t he call me?
*
Olivia scheduled her sessions with Dr.
Coffield for early morning, so she could return to her grandmother’s bedside.
“The timing is unfortunate with your recovery,” he told her. “Call me at the first sign of anything.”
At Harding Towers, she’d nearly made it to the elevator when Dr. Shepherd came into view to escort her to her grandmother’s floor. Dark circles lined his eyes.
“Have a rough night?”
“It’s your grandmother.” Gordon gripped her shoulders and drew her close. “She took a turn early this morning. I was about to call you. She’ll sleep most of the day. She’s worn out.”
“I’ve been praying she’d have longer.” Olivia swallowed back tears.
Gordon held her tight and then tighter.
He’s creeping me out. I’ll bet my pepper spray would wake him up. Olivia pushed him away and continued to the penthouse. Her grandmother looked years older since they parted the night before. Fragile and frail, surrounded by pillows and tubes. By her bed, Nanny worked her rosary like worry beads.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Catherine said breathlessly, although oxygen clung to her petite nose. “Had a rough time for a while; I’m better now, thanks to Dr. Shepherd.”
Olivia sniffed back tears. “Glad you got through it. He said you need rest today. I’ll be here.”
Catherine took her hand. “I need you to listen. There’s only one thing I’m gonna ask. Don’t mourn me, Olivia. My passing’s not sad. Parents that bury their children and families of soldiers that don’t return from war have reason to mourn. I’ve lived a privileged life to old age. It’s time for the good Lord to take me home where I can be with my son. Be happy for me. I’m going home.” She grinned through blue-tinged lips.
Olivia swiped a tear from her cheek. “When you put it like that, I feel I should throw you a party.”
“That would be lovely, dear,” Catherine answered. She closed her eyes. “Is there something you’d like me to tell your father when I see him?”
“Tell him I love him to pieces.” Olivia kissed her grandmother’s sallow cheek.
*
In the days that followed, Catherine’s condition deteriorated. Olivia no longer risked returning to Casa Nonna and cat-napped in the guestroom. She stayed in communication with Dr. Coffield by phone. The Garcias brought clothes and supplies from home and cared for her dogs. Gordon Shepherd hovered, making himself available for round-the-clock support.
Dawn broke in the pink overcast sky the day Catherine took her last breath. Holding her frail hand as she prayed, Olivia witnessed her grandmother’s shallow breathing silence and the deep lines on her face relax. She’d promised not to mourn her, but tears streamed her face with Nanny’s heart-wrenching sobs. They held each other close as Dr. Shepherd removed Catherine’s tubes.
“I love you,” Olivia said. She kissed the woman who’d raised her, saved her. “Have a safe trip home.” And while the young doctor was quick to comfort her, Olivia never felt so alone.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Olivia
Sitting in the first pew of the church, Olivia checked over her shoulder for Dr. Coffield. She felt calm having him close, while her grandmother’s friends and acquaintances filled every seat celebrating Catherine’s life. Grief had kept Olivia from her father’s funeral, years before when Sophie stepped in. This time, she wanted to stay.
After a touching ceremony, Olivia led the group along a tropical garden pathway, surrounded by swaying palms, to the burial site. She’d planned every detail of the day. Even the weather cooperated: a pleasant seventy-two degrees for this final day of February, as if ordered by the Chamber of Commerce in Catherine’s honor.
Olivia straightened her shoulders, poised beneath the tarp, and slowed her breathing using the technique Dr. Coffield had taught her. The soggy tissue she held struggled to absorb her tears. She lowered her head to block the flower-covered coffin from her sight.
Following the funeral, a lengthy caravan trailed Olivia’s car to Casa Nonna for Catherine’s Going Home party. The hired guards kept the paparazzi away. Every guest, except Dr. Coffield, was asked for their cameras and cell phones before gaining attendance. Olivia breathed easier knowing her trusted doctor was accessible.
Vases overflowed with red and blue salvia, yellow snapdragons and orange marigolds, Catherine’s favorites, many cut from the gardens of Casa Nonna. String quartets played the music she loved, and a champagne fountain flowed in the sunroom. The house seemed to pulse with an upbeat atmosphere.
Melody caught up with Olivia. “Jill’s taken over your kitchen. Her OCD’s working overtime. She’s stuck in cleaning mode. Gretchen’s watching her, said she’d stop her before she dismantles your oven. Anything I can do?”
Olivia exhaled. “Find a girlfriend for Gordon? He’s hovering—I’m not feeling it.”
“You’ve got to do this one yourself,” Melody said. “Get it over with.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. He lingered in the hall a few feet away. “Walk outside with me, Gordon?”
“Of course,” he said and followed willingly.
On the veranda, she spoke from her heart. “I’m grateful for the care you gave my grandmother. I’m just not looking for a boyfriend; friends?”
Gordon stepped back. He braced against the railing and paled.
Did his bottom lip quiver?
“I didn’t expect this. Are you sure?”
“I am.”
He nodded. “Fine, I guess it’s friends, then.”
Olivia returned his weak smile and then headed back through the French doors and into the crowd.
But along with the tears, smiles, hugs, and endearing stories of her grandmother, she heard them—the voices. They weren’t in her head, but all around her, as she entered and exited the room.
“There she is!”
“I wonder who she is now.”
“I think I dated the blond one.”
“She put Catherine in her grave by dragging the Harding name through the mud.”
“Crazy chicks are hot.”
As she struggled with the lock on the double doors leading to the beach, a lock she’d opened with ease since on her tippy-toes as a toddler, a warm hand covered her shoulder.
“Let’s walk it out,” Dr. Coffield said.
She slumped forward, tears streaming her face, and accepted his help. In short, breathless words, Olivia repeated all she’d heard.
“Breathe, Olivia. Form a star with your hand as I taught you.”
She controlled her breathing, not her tears. “What was I thinking?” Tugging off her shoes, her toes sunk into the wet sand. “I did this to myself. It’s like a firing squad in there! I’m not strong enough. I never will be.” She cocked her arm and flung the shoes into a surging wave, then watched them get pulled out to sea.
Dr. Coffield pushed his hands into his pockets. “Feel better?”
“Some,” Olivia swallowed a sob. “They were Christian Louboutin’s. I don’t want to go back in there, Dr. Coffield. I wanna send Sophie and wait it out in the caretaker’s house with my dogs.”
He shook his head. “Sophie’s with you. And you’ll get stronger. Give it time.”
They re-entered the house, running right into Chadwick and Bunny, Ben’s parents. Olivia dropped her eyes to her bare, sand-covered feet. She swiped her hair behind her ears and stepped back. I probably cried off all my makeup. I must look like shit.
“For the love of God,” she mumbled under her breath.
Dr. Coffield nudged her forward.
“Thank you for coming,” Olivia managed.
Chadwick embraced her when her eyes filled, while Bunny patted her arm. “Catherine would’ve loved this celebration.”
“She helped me plan it,” Olivia whispered when they turned back into the crowd.
Snagging a glass of red wine from Maria’s silver tray, she snuck up the back stairs to her room. She needed a place to escape, shoes, a makeup fix. I promise to go back—eventually. She closed the door and then jumped when
it opened.
“There you are. I drank three appletinis looking for you.”
“Abigail!” Olivia hugged her close.
“Are you up here by yourself?”
Olivia sighed. “I’m hiding. All my secrets made the headlines.”
“Sounds like you’ve got two choices.” Abigail scratched her head. “Buy a guitar and write a country song, or get over it, sweetie. Concentrate on the good. You spent your grandmother’s last days together.”
“That was because of you.”
“You were innocent, Olivia. Come on. Have an appletini with me. I’m buying.”
Fresh makeup, different shoes, and an appletini under her belt settled Olivia’s nerves. She left Abigail to flirt with the young and muscular bartender and ducked into the sunroom to commiserate with Nanny. From there, she ventured into the foyer and welcomed in Jonathan Tate. Her grandmother’s trusted lawyer and a family friend walked with a slow gait aided by a cane.
“What happened?” Olivia asked.
“I’m fine, just got a new hip. I’m gonna miss your grandmother.”
“I already do.” She squeezed his hand and turned when Melody walked up behind her.
“I’m headed to the wine room. We’re getting low on red,” Melody said.
Olivia nodded. “Let me get it. I need to keep moving, and I do better in rooms without people in them.”
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.”
“I’m sure,” Olivia returned a small smile.
She recognized his steps as they followed her into the cooled room. She could feel him, identify his scent without turning. When she did and saw his familiar eyes, her throat felt packed in cotton. Her first thought was to race into his arms, say everything she’d wanted to since being torn from his life in that driveway months before. She would apologize for the pain she’d caused and knew if he held her; the gaping hole in her heart could begin to heal.
“Ben, I…” she began before he cut her off.