Falling For A Stranger

by Barbara Freethy

  "I can't tell you anything else," he said.

  "You can tell me whether or not you're in love with Ria," Emma said.

  His gut tightened at her question. Usually when Emma asked about his dates or his relationships, he could answer quickly and easily, but not this time.

  "Well," Emma said, a thoughtful gleam in her eyes. "I think I have my answer."

  "She's important to me," he said. "That's all I can say right now."

  "What about Megan? She's raising her, right? Do you really want to take on a ready-made family?"

  "I don't know. I'm not thinking that far ahead. But Megan is a great kid."

  "I'm sure she is. And I'm sure you'd make a great father figure, if that's what you want. It would certainly be a different life than the one you've been living."

  "Change is good, right?"

  "Yes, just be careful. I don't want you to get hurt, Drew."

  "I know you don't. You hate to see anyone in the family hurt."

  "And you're the same way with your friends. I know you want to protect Ria and Megan, but if they have any kind of relationship with an international criminal, I think you're out of your league."

  "That's why I came here for help."

  "I'm glad you did. Don't do anything else until Max gets back to you. I know you don't like to be patient, but try."

  "I will," he said. "Anyway, I have to stop by Grandpa's house, so I should go."

  "What are you doing over there? Talking about the boat?"

  "No, he's having some car trouble. I said I'd take a look. With all his problems with Grandma, the last thing he needs is a car that's not working."

  * * *

  His grandfather was in the driveway in front of his garage, his head under the hood of his 1999 BMW when Drew arrived.

  "Find the problem?" Drew asked.

  His grandfather started, pulled his head out from under the hood and gave him an annoyed look. "You're late."

  "Ten minutes."

  "Late is late," Patrick said, never one to tolerate errors of any kind.

  "I'm here now. Can I take a look?"

  "It's the starter. It has to be."

  "Do you mind?" he asked, coming up next to him.

  "Suit yourself. I have to get back inside anyway. Ellie will be wanting her lunch."

  "Go ahead. I'll check things out."

  As his grandfather left, Drew examined the engine. He'd always enjoyed working on engines, whether they belonged to cars or planes. After a few minutes, he found the problem, and it was not the starter.

  He walked into the house and found his grandfather in the kitchen—a room that looked like it had been hit by a tornado. There were pots and pans on all the burners, as well as on the counters. There were half-eaten plates of food heaped on top of each other, glasses filled with an assortment of liquids. Most of the cupboard doors were open, as if someone had just ransacked them.

  "Don't just stand there," his grandfather said gruffly. "Help me." Patrick began rinsing dishes and putting them in the dishwasher.

  Drew moved over to the kitchen table and grabbed a couple of dishes, taking them over to the sink. "How long has it been since you cleaned up?" he couldn't help asking.

  "About an hour."

  "What?" he asked in disbelief. "All this in an hour?"

  "That's how long I was outside trying to get the car to start. Now you know why late is late."

  "Sorry," he muttered. "So this is Grandma's handiwork."

  "She forgets where she is, what she's doing. And some days she's filled with this almost frenetic energy. She's moving fast, trying to do a thousand things at once, like she's afraid if she doesn't get them done right away, she'll forget. Only she does forget, and then there's a thousand things all undone."

  "I didn't know it was this bad," he said slowly. "But you have some help, right?"

  "Sure, we have help, but it's impossible and ridiculously expensive to have anyone else here twenty-four hours a day." He paused, his eyes filling with pain. "Do you think I want to put her in a home?" He shook his head, biting down on his bottom lip. "I have loved that woman for almost sixty years of my life. I have lived with her, slept with her, eaten with her, bathed with her. I know her better than I know myself. And she used to know me." His jaw tightened. "She used to know me," he repeated, then tossed the sponge into the sink and walked out of the room.

  Drew felt like he'd just been hit by a train. He didn't know what was more disturbing—that his grandmother was losing her mind, or that his gruff grandfather was capable of breaking down and being very, very human.

  He let out a sigh and then finished cleaning the kitchen. He was just starting the dishwasher when his grandmother wandered into the room.

  She wore a fancy silver-sequined dress and high heels, and she had a ton of make-up on her face. "I'm ready to go," she said. She stopped when she saw Drew. "Where's Patrick? We have to get to the dance."

  "Uh, he must be changing," Drew replied, never sure how to talk to his grandmother when she was not herself.

  "And he used to say I was the slow one," she said, sitting down at the kitchen table. "What are you doing here, Drew?"

  The fact that she recognized him made him feel marginally better. Despite the odd outfit, maybe she could have a normal conversation.

  "I came to help Grandpa fix the car."

  "Is it broken?" she asked.

  "Yeah, little bit. Can I get you something to eat?"

  "I'm sure there will be food at the party. The Waltons throw the most beautiful dinner parties."

  He'd never heard of the Waltons. "Well, maybe you'd like a sandwich now, just in case dinner is late."

  "That might be nice. I am hungry. I don't think I've eaten in a while. Maybe some toast," she said.

  "Coming right up."

  He popped two pieces of bread in the toaster. His grandmother picked up the newspaper lying on the table and let out a small gasp. She put a hand to her heart.

  "Oh, dear. Oh, dear," she said.

  He walked around the table to see what she was looking at. "What's wrong?"

  She didn't answer him, just stared at the picture.

  He read the headline for the article, "Winthrop Building Gets A Second Life". An artist's rendering of a new skyscraper by the Embarcadero accompanied the article. "Winthrop," he murmured, the name sounding familiar. "Wasn't that where there was a big fire in the late seventies?"

  "They're going to build it again," she murmured. "They can't do that." She looked up at Drew, panic in her blue eyes. She grabbed his arm. "They can't do that. You can't let them. Not after all this time. People will find out."

  "Find out what?" he asked in confusion.

  "All the secrets," she hissed. She jumped to her feet and started backing away from him.

  He took a step forward, but she put up her hand. "Stay away from me. You stay away from me. I'm not going to tell you. I promised."

  The kitchen door opened, and his grandfather strode in. "What's going on?"

  "He knows about the Winthrop building," she said to Patrick. "He could tell everyone."

  "That's Drew, honey, your grandson," Patrick said in a rough but soothing voice. "Let me take you into the living room. We'll sit down and have some tea."

  "Oh, okay," she mumbled, as Patrick led her out of the kitchen.

  Drew took a breath and then slowly let it out. What the hell had just happened?

  His grandfather came back into the room a moment later. "You should go home, Drew."

  "What was that about?"

  "I don't know," he said wearily. "It's something new every day."

  He could see that his grandfather was at the end of his rope, but his vague answer bothered him. "She was reading the newspaper, and she just freaked out. Started talking about the Winthrop building."

  "They're rebuilding it, I guess," Patrick said. "I saw it on the news the other day."

  "Why would that upset Grandma?"

  "We lost two firefighters
when that building went down. Your grandmother knew one of the wives. She was distraught for days. We all were. It was a long time ago, but for some reason your grandmother seems to remember things from thirty years ago but can't recall what happened ten minutes ago."

  "We need to get you more help," Drew said. "You can't do this alone."

  "Your dad doesn't want me to put her in a facility."

  "Then he needs to help you figure out a better way to take care of her."

  "We're doing okay most days."

  He gave his grandfather a disbelieving look. "I just finished cleaning the kitchen, and before she got upset, she told me you were going to a dinner party. It's the middle of the day, and she's wearing a sequined gown. That's not doing okay."

  Patrick shrugged. "Thanks for coming over. I'll just take the car to a mechanic."

  "That you don't have to do. I can fix the car. I just need to run down to the auto shop and pick up a part. I'll be back in a few minutes."

  "I'll leave the garage door open," his grandfather said. "Maybe best not to come inside again. Ellie has had all the excitement she needs for a day."

  "No problem."

  He left the house, feeling incredibly sad but also angry at the illness that had literally stolen his grandmother away from him. When her brain was right, she was the person he'd loved all his life, but when the chemistry changed, she was a stranger. He supposed that was probably the way she felt, too. She just couldn't tell the difference, but he could.

  How his grandfather handled it day in and day out, he didn't know, but he obviously needed more help. And he needed to talk to his father about it, too. Jack might not want to see his mother in a home, but he also wouldn't have wanted to see the kitchen the way Drew had found it.

  And what about his grandmother's increasingly frequent bouts of disorientation? Her memories of terrible events that seemed to have no basis in reality—or did they?

  She'd gotten agitated when she'd seen the story on the Winthrop building, and the fire that had burned down the original building had taken the lives of two firefighters. So the building had meant something to her. But what was the promise she'd made and to who? Was his grandmother lying? Were her words caused by the delusions of her illness? Or had she been involved in something shady a very long time ago?

  Damn! Now he was the crazy one. His grandparents were the most honorable people he knew. He needed to stop trying to find some truth, some reality, in his grandmother's words. He had to find a way to love her the way she was now and let go of the person she used to be.

  But that was all for another time. Today, he would fix their car, and be glad there was at least one problem in his life that he could resolve.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ria got home from her last sailing lesson just after five o'clock on Sunday. Judging by the loud music coming from the bedroom, it was obvious that Megan was awake.

  She knocked on the door, then pushed it open. Megan sat on the middle of the bed, computer in front of her, music so loud she was surprised the neighbors hadn't complained.

  "Can you turn it down?" Ria asked.

  "What?" Megan yelled.

  She waved her hand toward the speakers.

  Megan reached over and switched off the music. "Sorry. How was sailing?"

  "It was fine," she said, sitting down on a corner of the bed, not willing to admit that thoughts of Drew had distracted her all day. She hadn't been able to enjoy the water the way she normally did, because her mind kept darting from joyous memories of being in Drew's arms to worrying thoughts about Drew's conversation with his friend. She wanted to believe that Tim's innocent questions wouldn't trigger interest by the wrong people on the island, but how could she be sure? She had no idea who Tim had spoken to.

  "Tory," Megan said. "Is something wrong?"

  "No, just a little tired," she said, not wanting to put her negative thoughts on to Megan. "How was your day?"

  "I slept for most of it. Now I'm working on my essay. It's due tomorrow."

  "This is the one about the Coast Guard?"

  "About Drew," Megan said. "And I want to hear all about your date last night. I can't believe he took you up in a helicopter."

  "He wanted to show me his world," Ria replied. "The lights were just coming on in the city, and it was amazing. The view was incredible and Drew decided to add a little excitement by flying us under the Golden Gate Bridge."

  "Was it scary?"

  "It was exhilarating," Ria said, remembering the breathless feeling she'd experienced when they'd taken off. "I loved it. I can see why Drew likes to fly."

  "And then you went out on his boat," Megan added. "Which is obviously your idea of the perfect date."

  She smiled. "You know me too well."

  "I think Drew does, too. Was it romantic?"

  "To use one of your favorite words; it was awesome. Drew put together a really nice picnic, crab salad, fresh fruit, baked bread, wine. It was a beautiful night, lots of stars." Her voice drifted away, her heart aching at the memory of the night they'd shared, and the realization that it might have been their last night together.

  "Did you kiss him?"

  She stiffened at the question. "Megan. I'm not going to talk to you about that."

  "Why not? It's just you and me. You would have told Mom, wouldn't you?"

  "Because your mom was my sister, and you're my niece, not to mention the fact that you're sixteen."

  Megan rolled her eyes. "I know about sex."

  "Do you?" she asked tentatively. "Was this knowledge acquired last night?"

  "No. No way. We were in a hotel room with five other people," Megan said. "We just made out a little. I'm not going to have my first time be like that."

  Ria felt a wave of relief that not only had Megan not had sex last night; apparently she hadn't had it at all. "That's a good decision."

  "I am capable of making them," Megan retorted.

  She smiled. "You sound just like your mother. Kate had a tremendously strong will."

  "Do you really think I take after her?"

  "I see it more and more each day."

  "Maybe being strong-willed is a family trait, because you're pretty tough, too." Megan cleared her throat. "So, you're probably going to be angry, but I have a confession to make."

  Her stomach tightened. "What's that?"

  "I got Drew's number off your cell phone a few days ago, and I called him this afternoon."

  "Why would you call Drew?" she asked warily.

  "I'm having trouble with my essay, and I have some questions."

  "All right," she said slowly, sure there was more to come. "And…"

  "And he's coming over for dinner," Megan said with a bright smile. "Isn't that great? He'll be able to answer my questions in person."

  "You should have asked me first."

  "I'm just getting a little help for school. Is it that big of a deal? You seemed like you were getting along really well this morning," she said with a gleam in her eyes.

  "It's not a big deal," she said. "But I don't like you sneaking around. We have to be honest with each other, Megan. It's important."

  Megan's expression grew serious. "I know. I shouldn't have looked through your phone. I'm sorry. But I think you like Drew, and I'm afraid you're going to push him away."

  "If I do, that's my decision, Megan." As she finished speaking, the buzzer went off. "I guess that's him."

  "He said he'd bring pizza," Megan said with a bright smile.

  "Great." She got up from the bed and moved into the living room. She buzzed Drew in and then went to the door, her heart speeding up with each step. She was irritated with Megan for playing matchmaker, but deep down she was happy to see Drew again.

  She opened the door as he came down the hall. A smile spread across his face when he saw her.

  "Hi," he said, stopping right in front of her.

  "Hi," she echoed, her stomach taking its usual nosedive.

  He was holding two large pizza bo
xes in his hands, but he still managed to lean forward and snag a kiss off the corner of her lips. "I figured I better get that in before our chaperone joins us."

  "Our chaperone is trying to be a little matchmaker."

  "I know. Are you angry that she called me?"

  "I should be, but I'm not. We need to talk, but it will have to be later."

  "I agree."

  She stepped back to let him into the apartment.

  "I got four different combinations," Drew said as he set the pizza down on the table and opened the boxes. "A mix of vegetarian and meat, I wasn't sure what you liked."

  "I like everything," Megan said, as she joined them at the table.

  "Ria?"

  She heard him call her name, but she was having trouble focusing on his question. She was too caught up in just how sexy he looked in jeans and a t-shirt with a shadow of beard along his jawline.

  "Ria?" he said again.

  "Oh, I like everything," she said, and she wasn't talking about the pizza.

  From the intimate look he sent her, she had a feeling he could see right into her head.

  "I'm going to eat in my room," Megan announced.

  "You're supposed to be talking to Drew," Ria protested.

  "I'll come out when you guys are done eating," Megan said. She entered the bedroom and made a point of shutting the door.

  "Alone at last," Drew said with a grin. "What kind of pizza would you like?"

  "Vegetarian." She grabbed plates out of the cupboard, then sat down across from him. "What did you do today?"

  "I fixed my grandfather's car. Then I cleaned up their kitchen, and I watched my grandmother have a mental breakdown after reading a newspaper article." He set down his pizza and sighed. "She's really losing it."

  "I'm sorry." She could see the pain in his eyes.

  "It's hard to watch."

  "That's the part your grandmother hates the most," Ria said.

  "I know. But it's worse on my grandfather." He drew in a breath and let it out. "How was your day?"

  "Better than yours." She met his gaze. "I spent most of it thinking about you."

  Desire flared in his eyes. "Same here."