An instrumental version of Hey, Jude played in the background, and the scent of orange blossoms filled the room. Everything in the spa was designed to calm its patrons. Lillian relaxed into the chair and closed her eyes. Today was all about her. A facial, a mani-pedi along with a hot stone massage was her idea of heaven.
As the technician worked the facial cream into her skin, Lillian sighed. “This day would be perfect if only I could have gotten an appointment with Julio,” she said. “I can’t believe he’s booked up for the next five weeks.”
“He’s worth the wait,” the petite brunette said as she finished applying the honeydew melon paste.
“I’m not a patient person,” Lillian said, trying to remain still while talking. “Julio is the absolute best stylist in the whole state. I can’t wait to see what he recommends for my hair.” She was proud of the fact she was a natural blonde, but her hair was darkening with age.
Highlights had been on her wish list for years, but Mr. Howell would have fired her on the spot.
“We’ll leave the product on for thirty minutes. The nail technician is here now.”
Coral had just started working on her nails when a tall, reed thin man stopped beside her chair.
“Ms. Keeler, I’m Julio Delgado Baldinotti,” he said his accent an odd mix of soothing Spanish and hard edged New Jersey. “We are so sorry to hear about the death of Mr. Howell. You must be devastated.”
Devastated? She stared at Julio, her attention rooted on his short, clipped mustache. It took her a moment to connect the comment to her situation. Devastated? She was taking the death so hard she was having her nails done.
“Yes, it’s been overwhelming. I thought this might take my mind off the tragedy.” She glanced from beneath her lashes to his long, narrow face. If she had to liken him to anyone, it would be Abraham Lincoln, with a mustache and long, slicked-back, black hair. He certainly didn’t look like the most famous hairdresser in Colorado, well, in southeastern Colorado.
“You were close to Mr. Howell, yes? Again, let me extend my sympathy.” He patted her hand then said, “Would you like me to work you in today? It’s the least I can do to help you through your grief.”
Her head snapped up in astonishment. He’d work her in now? She knew Simon had never even met the man, and would have scoffed at the idea of a man styling women’s hair. Since this was her first visit to the shop, there was only one reason for Julio to be this accommodating. He was covering all his bases in case she’d inherited a bunch of Simon’s money.
From the first day she’d taken the job, the rumors had flown about Simon and his pretty, young secretary. When she’d moved into his house, they’d multiplied. “Well, well,” she thought. “Money can’t buy love, but it seems to be able to buy respect.”
After the massage, Lillian was so calm she almost fell asleep during the pedicure. Now, she relaxed into the stylist's chair, determined to enjoy every moment of her makeover.
As Julio swung the apron around her shoulders, he said, “What shall we do today, Miss Lillian?”
“Whatever you think would look best, Julio. I’m putting myself in your capable hands. Cut, color, highlights, do the works.” She ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing it around her shoulders. “Make me beautiful.”
-#-
Rose slept through most of the day, again. The one time she woke, Adam had some soup warmed and fed her most of a bowl. She wanted to explain she was capable of taking care of herself, but she kept falling asleep mid-sentence.
Trying to clear the sleep fog from her brain, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Twilight filled the living room, but enough light remained for her to see she was alone.
“Adam,” she called, but her voice came out in a craggy whisper. Had he taken her at her word and left? She could survive without his help, but the thought sent a rush of alarm through her nerve endings. Rose realized she didn’t want to do without him. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Adam!”
As she struggled to get off the couch, he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.
“Yes, Ma’am. You need something?”
Why on earth did she have to blush at every foolish thing? Seeing her naked obviously hadn’t meant much to him. “I wanted to say thank you for helping me with my hair and, uh, the bath.”
“Well, somebody has to take care of you, and I got elected, in a landslide.”
The man was intolerable. Besides, this was his fault. He’d caused the wreck. “I was going to say I don’t know what I’d have done without you, but after that remark, I’m rethinking.”
“I know what you’d have done without my help. You’d have drowned.” Adam laughed, and her anger evaporated. He had a point. Besides, his laugh did things to her insides—warm, happy things.
“Hey, I make one mistake, and you won’t let me forget it,” she said.
“One mistake?” he asked as he held up his hand and started counting. “Let’s see, since I’ve met you, you’ve assumed I was an alien, run your car off the road, hit your head on the steering wheel for a doozy of a concussion and tried to drown yourself. And accomplished all that in less than a week. Face it Rose, you need me.” He grinned with satisfaction, but as she watched, the smile faded. He turned and walked to the window, staring intently at the street, his body rigid.
Why the dramatic change? What had she done now? Maybe he felt trapped. She wanted to let him know he was free to go, but since she had trouble making it to the bathroom or feeding herself that suggestion wouldn't fly.
Those failings weren’t doing much for her argument that she was self-sufficient, and he seemed to have an outsized sense of responsibility. And as for Adam, except for his reaction when he’d said she needed him, he’d seemed perfectly comfortable staying right where he was—in her old recliner.
Maybe he didn’t have anywhere else to stay. This might be a perfect solution for both of them.
As he carried in the bowls of oatmeal he’d fixed for dinner, she voiced her plan. “I’m not trying to kick you out. If you want to stay, you can at least sleep in the extra room. It’s just across the hall. It’ll beat the heck out of curling up in my chair.”
Nodding in apparent agreement, he continued to spoon in his dinner. When he’d finished, he put the bowl aside and joined her on the couch.
“If I’m sleeping in a real bed, so are you,” he said. “When you’re ready, I’ll help you to your room.”
“I’d like that. I’m ready now if you don’t mind.” It seemed like ages since she’d slept in her own bed.
Adam took her arm and steadied her as they walked down the hall.
At least he didn’t feel the need to carry her, although she could get used to the pampering.
He perched her on the bed. “Pajamas, nighty or nothing at all?” he asked. Before she could formulate an answer, he started rummaging through her dresser drawers.
“Wait, what are you doing? I can dress myself.” It was only three feet from her bed to the dresser. She could manage to move three feet if she had to crawl. Before she could stop him, he tugged open a bottom drawer then froze.
She could see the pink striped shopping bag from where she sat on the bed. He’d found her Victoria’s Secret stash. She’d bought a few pieces on a whim but had never had an occasion to use them.
“Don’t open that bag,” she said, trying for a commanding voice but sounding closer to Minnie Mouse.
He didn’t so much as glance at her as he pushed the pink tissue paper aside. Selecting a pair of hot pink bikini panties trimmed with black lace, he held them between two fingers. A smile played at the corners of his mouth as he turned to face her. When his eyes met hers, heat flashed through her body. Embarrassment, she thought. The heat was just embarrassment.
“Nice.” The panties swung back and forth, dangling from his fingers.
She had to stop this, stop him. “Get out of there.” She stood, intending to forcibly remove him from her room but with the first step, insta
bility hit her like a land mine. Damn, she wasn’t used to relying on anyone but herself.
He stepped to her side, moving her back to the safety of her bed.
“Sorry, I got sidetracked,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d want to sleep in that shirt.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re pushy? You don’t ask. You charge ahead like a storm trooper on a mission. And for your information, I sleep in my T-shirt all the time.” She pushed herself to her feet and only wobbled for a few seconds. “Now get out.”
“You mean I don’t get to watch Tipsy Gypsy Rose and her strip show?” he asked with a grin.
She drew herself up and gave him her best death stare. “Out now.”
His smile disappeared. Without another word, he grabbed a nightshirt from the drawer and threw it on the bed. The sound of the door clicking shut ended their conversation.
She’d done it again. He’d made it perfectly clear he wasn’t interested in seeing her naked, twice. He hadn’t been anything but courteous, with a little light teasing, and she’d rewarded his helpfulness with suspicion and doubt.
Social skills are not my best quality.
Chapter Five
Bells, bells, bells! If Irwin had his way, he’d do away with all bells. Saturday night was special for him, and it seemed like that was the night the doorbell rang nonstop. He’d been trying to call his friend Rose, but when she hadn’t answered by the tenth ring, he hung up and headed for the door.
It was his night off, and one of his favorite shows happened to be on the television in five minutes. He hated to be interrupted when The Goonies aired, but when the doorbell rang like this, he knew from experience they wouldn't go away until he answered.
Whoever was out there could hear the TV and knew he was home.
As he pulled the door open a few inches, he came face to face with two young women, both giggling and chewing gum.
Like so many other young people, they were exercising their jaw muscles. Although Irwin couldn’t for the life of him see a reason. Why would anyone want to chew something they weren't going to eat? He'd read the package and knew there was no nutritional value. He just couldn’t figure some people out.
The brunette wore tight jeans, a halter-top and had a very interesting tattoo across her chest. He tipped his head, trying to get a clearer look. She stepped forward, bent down to his level and blinked.
“We’re here to see Mr. Cunningham.” As she came closer, he could see a small row of bunnies intertwined with daisies tattooed across her chest just above the low cut top. “Would you tell him Miranda and Lydia have arrived? We have an appointment.”
From behind her, the blonde stopped chewing her gum and giggled. “See, I told you Randall had a butler. He's a very important man.” She blew a bubble, popped it and then pulled the pink wad back into her mouth.
Irwin looked from one to the other then folded his hands across his stomach. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Mr. Cunningham doesn't live here anymore. He moved to a larger apartment last week, and that scalawag didn't leave a forwarding address.”
He stood on his tiptoes to appear taller. “However, I've just put on a fresh pot of coffee. Would you girls like to come in and share a cup? I also have skittles.” In his Goonies are Great T-shirt and his favorite red and green plaid polyester pants, he was glad he’d dressed for company.
“Eeeuuuwwww!” The blond managed to get the elongated word out between bubbles. She was obviously the better spoken of the two.
They turned without acknowledging Irwin and sauntered down the hall toward the elevator.
“I told you we had the wrong address. Randall wouldn’t live in a dump like this,” the brunette said.
“You told me? I told you he lived in a townhouse in Trinidad,” the blond replied.
“No, it was your idea to come here.”
Irwin closed the door on the arguing women and returned to his program, a smile on his face.
In one fluid motion, Darwin leaped then stretched out along the top of the recliner.
Irwin’s conversation with the women hadn’t been a total loss. He'd gotten to use scalawag, another great word, and luckily, they’d come during a commercial. He hadn't missed any of the show. Chunk and Sloth were going to save the day—again.
“One day I’m going to get a pirate ship, and you and I are going to sail the high seas,” he said to Darwin with a flourish of his hand. “I need a pirate sword.”
-#-
On Sunday morning radiant beams of bright pink and gold lit the horizon as the sun rose over the foothills. As was his habit, Irwin watched the sunrise from his kitchen window. He was dressed in his Superman slippers and the beautiful silk robe with the dragons on it he’d brought back from one of his trips to the orient.
The steaming cup of Bosco warmed his hands, and the aroma wrapped around him like syrup. The dark, chocolaty drink was Irwin’s favorite. Several times he’d considered squeezing it straight from the bottle into his mouth, but his motto was everything is better in moderation.
In the ongoing battle to control his cravings for sugar and chocolate, Irwin stood firm. Each morning he allowed himself a warm cup of Bosco and one Pop tart. Life didn't get any better than this.
The Goonies last night, a Tex Avery cartoon medley this morning, and a Star Wars Trilogy showing on the Sci-Fi Channel this afternoon made his weekend just about perfect. But first, he needed to check in with Rose.
He'd invited her over to watch Star Wars, but hadn't heard from her for several days. When she hadn’t shown up for work on Friday, he’d begun to worry. His Rose was conscientious to a fault.
He dialed her number and was surprised when it rang several times then switched to voice mail. Glancing at his kitchen clock, he realized it was only five-thirty in the morning, much too early for Rose.
He’d never needed much sleep and tended to forget others did. Sliding his stool closer to the window and folding his hands in his lap, he watched the sun rise while waiting for a more appropriate time to call his friend.
-#-
A full-fledged grocery run was the first item on Adam’s list. There hadn’t been a thing to eat in Rose’s house other than several stale slices of bread in the drawer and a jar of dill pickles in the fridge.
Pushing the cart up and down the aisles grabbing essentials, he wondered what she ate day to day.
Must be a take-out fan.
When he’d looked through her kitchen it was obvious she wasn’t Paula Deen. He’d had to rinse dust and crumbs from the bottom of the pan he’d used to heat the water for the tea.
Adam stocked up on soup and frozen dinners, things he could whip up with little effort. At least he wouldn’t have to work at finding where the items went. He could put them anywhere. Her cabinets were bare.
He walked up the sidewalk, turned the knob and pushed the door open with his hip. With his arms full of bags, he didn’t see Rose sitting in the chair until he was next to her.
“Looking good there Rosie,” he joked as he passed through to the kitchen.
“For a dead person, maybe,” she said, pushing her fingers through her hair.
Well, well, she had a sense of humor. “How's the head?”
“I don't think it's going to fall off today. I made it to the bathroom all by myself. How long have I been asleep? What day is it?”
“Are you asking about Earth days?” He chuckled at his joke, bad as it was. As long as he kept his mind on her problems, he wouldn't have to think about his own. “It's Sunday, you've been sleeping off and on since early Friday morning.”
“It's not nice to make fun of sick people,” she grumbled. “I have a job. I missed a show.” Not that anybody would notice except for the dead air. “Has my boss called?”
As the words left her mouth, the loud jangle of the phone startled her, setting off the pounding in her head. “Hello?” She heard Irwin's soft voice.
“Rose, is that you?”
“Hi, Irwin,” she sai
d, one hand massaging her temple. “I was just going to call you.”
“You weren’t at work Friday.” Irwin was never one for small talk. He doled words out like a miser did his money.
“God, I’ll bet Eddie threw a Donald Duck fit. Who filled in on my show? You didn’t have to work both slots did you?” She hadn’t thought of that until now. All her responsibilities came rushing back to her in an instant.
“Eddie put on a rerun of one of your other shows. He said the studio was flooded with calls wanting to know where you were. He told them they’d had technical difficulties.” Irwin took a breath.
“My listeners noticed it was a rerun?” she asked. She wouldn’t have thought they’d recognize the change. Then again, they didn’t have anyone to discuss their newest alien sighting with. “Was Eddie on the warpath?”
“He shouted something about not being able to count on you until I reminded him you haven’t even been ten minutes late before. I did wonder where you were.”
“I wrecked my car. I have a concussion, and the pain medication makes me fall asleep. I can't stay awake long enough to do my show.” Hell, she couldn’t stay awake long enough to feed herself.
“Are you coming over to watch Star Wars today?” Irwin asked. Apparently she hadn’t gotten the message through that her head hurt. He was a great friend, but sometimes she wondered if he lived in the same solar system.
“I think I'll stay home today. I'm sorry. I know you were looking forward to this.”
“That's okay Rose. Darwin will keep me company.”
“I’ll come over another time. See you Monday.” She heard a click, and he was gone.
She should call Eddie, but then she’d have to listen to him threaten to fire her for not showing up for her show, and she wasn’t up to arguing. “What's happened to my life? It was going to be so great. I had it all planned out, first a physics degree then a job on the cutting edge of scientific discovery. Now it's this big cosmic joke,” she said and dropped her head into her hands, and in the process cracked the phone into her forehead.
Radio Rose (Change of Heart Cowboys Book 1) Page 6