by Brad Graber
Charlie twisted and turned, eventually loosening Dave’s key before dropping it on the counter. “Hey you,” he said approaching Dave from behind. With his arms about Dave’s waist, he pulled him in for a hug.
Dave turned, and they kissed. He relaxed into it. It felt damn good. “Sorry about being so late,” he apologized. “It’s impossible to get out of that building at a reasonable hour. I think this might be the way of life at Bremer.”
“I’m just glad you’re here. Time to relax.”
Dave loosened his tie as Charlie pulled out the roast and placed it on top of the stove.
“So how’d it go today? Any better?” Charlie asked, lifting the roast out of the pan with a large fork to settle it on the carving board.
“Any better than what? The same people, the same meetings, the same Daniel. He has all these questions about the financial performance of the business, which is surprising considering he signed all these terrible contracts. Every lousy deal has his fingerprints on it. And he’s so damn angry. He’s just a very hostile guy.”
Dave spotted an oversized card in the middle of the stack of mail. He opened it. A photograph of two Golden Labs, eyes bright, tongues dangling, smiling the way only Golden Labs seemed to do, stared back at him.
“Well, I have a surprise for you.” Charlie pointed at the dining room table, carving knife in hand.
There, sitting on Dave’s plate, was a box wrapped with a red bow.
“Oh no,” Dave moaned, realizing the card he held had been sent by friends in California. “It’s our anniversary . . .”
Charlie smiled. “You make it sound like a terrible thing.”
“But I didn’t get you anything,” Dave said mournfully. “All those early morning meetings and late nights, I kept thinking, I have to get Charlie a gift. But I kept running out of time. And then I forgot.”
Charlie leaned forward on the counter. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll take me to dinner this weekend. No big deal.”
“Oh Charlie, that isn’t right. I wanted you to have something special.”
“I do have something special.” Charlie wiped his hands with a dish towel before pulling Dave into his arms. “I have you. And now, I have Phoenix. Dave, I love it here. This is the best decision we’ve ever made.”
Dave was sorry to hear Charlie say that.
Charlie returned to the galley kitchen. “I couldn’t imagine us living anywhere else. I mean, can you believe this weather? In April? It’s amazing.”
Dave fingered the ribbon on the gift. “I’ve been thinking this move was a mistake,” he said, his voice low, nearly imperceptible. Uncertain Charlie had heard him, he blurted out, “I really can’t stand working at Bremer.”
Charlie, his back turned to Dave, opened the refrigerator, though he seemed to hear every word. “You just need time to adjust. You’ll see. We’ll buy a great house, make new friends, and get a dog. We’ll have a wonderful life.”
“Charlie, I don’t know.” Dave was heartsick. It had been a long time since he and Charlie had been so far apart on an issue.
Charlie dressed the salad. “You’ve always been slow to adjust to change. Every new job has been a crisis. Given time, things will smooth over. You’ll see. It’ll all work out. It’s just bumpy in the beginning.”
Dave sighed. “I wish I was as optimistic as you.”
“Well, you never have been,” Charlie said. “That word isn’t in your vocabulary. You’re a worrier.”
“But this time it’s different,” Dave confessed, a hand resting on what remained of the unopened mail, eyes pleading for Charlie to understand. “This is really bad.”
“You’re upset,” Charlie acknowledged. “You’ve had a hard day. Why don’t you go ahead and open your gift.”
Dave tore at the paper. How, he thought, can I possibly make Charlie understand?
The gift was a box of See’s Chocolates. Mixed Nuts and Chews. Dave’s favorite.
“Well, open the card,” Charlie demanded.
Dave opened the envelope. Two tickets to Tennessee Williams’s The Glass Menagerie at Arizona Theatre Company slid out. “That’s nice,” Dave said quietly, his words more polite than heartfelt. Upset, he needed to be alone. “I think I’ll change before dinner.”
Charlie, oblivious to Dave’s mood, trailed after him to the bedroom, talking about the small events of the day. The neighbor he’d met in the supermarket. The noise the kids made after school as they played in the pool, screeching with delight. The dog he’d seen from the small terrace off the kitchen as it walked by with its owner in tow. And then, about the afternoon activities househunting.
“Ronaldo and I checked out a few more houses,” Charlie said, as Dave dropped his tie on the bed.
“What’d you think?”
“Honestly, not much.”
“Why?” Dave asked, removing his white dress shirt and handing it to Charlie, who in turn, stuffed it into a blue, dry-cleaners bag.
“I didn’t really like the neighborhood.”
“Then why look there?” Dave wondered. “Just tell Ronaldo the neighborhoods you’re interested in.” Dave stepped over to the en-suite sink in his briefs and washed his face.
Charlie picked up Dave’s slacks, folded them, and slipped them onto a wooden hanger. He hung up the tie on the metal rack inside the closet. He placed the black Cole Haan loafers on the appropriate shelf. “Well, that’s the problem,” he said, emerging from the closet. “I really don’t know the neighborhoods. So, we’ve been checking out North Central and a lot of houses closer to your office. I know you’re concerned about the drive.”
“The traffic can be tough,” Dave admitted, drying his face with a towel, “but I don’t want to live too close to the office. I already spend too much time there.”
“Physically and mentally,” Charlie added.
“So nothing yet?” Dave stepped into a pair of grey Nike shorts.
“Oh, I’ve seen nice houses, but they aren’t for us.”
“Too bad,” Dave said, slipping on a dark blue tee shirt sporting the logo of the San Francisco Police Department.
“I thought you were afraid to wear that thing.” Charlie had bought the tee shirt at a fundraiser during a Bay Area street fair.
“As long as we’re staying in, it’s okay. Remember when that woman ran up to me in the city and said she needed my help?” Dave smiled at the memory, suddenly longing to be back in the Bay Area.
“How could I forget?” Charlie let out a chuckle before returning to the subject at hand. “Maybe I’ll have better luck tomorrow. We have appointments to see five houses in Scottsdale. We’ll see how that goes.”
* * *
Delirious from a blood-borne infection, Daisy was admitted to an intensive care unit in the middle of the night. The nurse’s aide who coordinated the transfer spotted the note lying on Daisy’s bedside table. Glancing at the contents, she handed it to the lead EMT. “Mac, this might come in handy.” Mac, a stocky guy sporting a crewcut who had played defensive end in high school, shoved the note in his pocket.
That morning at Denny’s, after finishing breakfast, Mac pulled the note out when he reached for his wallet to settle the check. “Crap,” he said, reading the note. “I’ve got to get this back to that old lady.” But with his shift over, he had no desire to return to the hospital. Instead, he opted to do the next best thing. He pulled out his cell phone.
“Hello, is this Jack Lee?” Mac asked.
“Speaking.”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”
* * *
“Oh my God,” Jack said, hanging up the phone. He’d been outside planting miniature cacti when his cell phone rang. “She’s in the hospital,” he told Enid who was stretched out on a lounge chair sipping lemonade.
“Who?” Enid asked, sitting up with alarm. She wore a white outfit; white top and white shorts; a large straw gardening hat rested in her lap.
“Daisy,” Jack answered. He examined her fac
e for any sense of recognition. “The woman we thought might be my aunt.”
“Oh,” Enid said, seemingly relieved, “is that all.” She relaxed back into the lounger. Though she’d told Jack she’d help with the planting, after opening the first bag of fertilizer, the smell had put her off.
“She’s ill,” Jack said, his voice tinged with annoyance. “Here we have a chance to get to know her, and now it gets complicated.”
But Enid still didn’t seem to care. “That’s too bad Jack,” she said, checking her manicure. “Jack, we really should have hired someone to do the gardening. It’s such a messy job.”
Jack wiped the sweat from his forehead. He hated when Enid changed the subject in mid-discussion. Irritated, he ignored her behavior. “Do you think we should go visit her?”
Enid offered a perplexed look. “I don’t see why. We don’t know her. This seems to be a private matter. What does she have to do with us?”
Jack arched a brow. “I don’t know exactly, but if she’s my father’s sister, I should do something.”
“Oh no.” Enid waved her hands in the air. “We’re not taking on the care of an old woman, someone we’ve never even met. Forget it.”
“Then again, she might not be my aunt,” Jack said, his face registering a modicum of relief. “That certainly is possible.”
“That’s right,” Enid agreed. “She probably isn’t.”
“It would be too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?” Jack caught sight of an eagle soaring in the distance. The graceful majesty of the bird reminded him of his Dad’s love for everything Southwest. “No . . . I’m going over to the hospital,” he reconsidered. “I better just go.”
Enid sneered. “And what do you think that’ll prove?”
“I don’t know,” Jack said. “It just feels like the right thing to do.”
Enid pressed her lips together. “Okay, but if you’re going . . . I’m going with you. Give me a few minutes to change my clothes. You’re too soft-hearted for your own good, Jack Lee. Much too soft-hearted.”
* * *
Daisy’s eyes felt like hot coals. She’d tossed and turned, confused, uncertain where she was. She’d tried to remove the IV from her wrist when the ICU nurse entered the cubicle to check Daisy’s vitals. Daisy struggled, certain the woman wearing a facemask had come to kill her. But by nine o’clock in the morning, her fever had broken. Exhausted, she napped on and off.
She was awakened by a gentle touch to her arm. A nurse hovered nearby. “Good afternoon, sweetie. Are you awake?” Her voice was like honey. “Do you remember me?”
Daisy smiled, hoping that was enough recognition.
“I need you to tell me your name and birth date, if you can.”
“I’m Daisy Lee,” she managed to get out. She then provided her birthdate.
“Good, very good.” The nurse smiled and patted her shoulder. “I have a few more questions for you. There’s a gentleman here who says he might be your nephew. Do you have a nephew?”
“I don’t have any children,” Daisy answered, shaking her head from side-to-side, eyes closed.
“No, dear,” the nurse tried again. “A nephew. A man named Jack Allen Lee?”
Daisy drifted off.
The nurse touched her arm. Daisy opened her eyes. “Can you tell me the name of your brother?” she asked.
“Jacob,” Daisy replied weakly. “Jacob. Is he here?” she asked somewhat confused, her eyes searching about.
“His son is,” the nurse answered.
“Oh.” Daisy nodded off again.
“Ms. Lee,” the nurse gently called as she stroked Daisy’s hair. “Do you know a Jack Allen Lee?”
Daisy’s head cleared for a moment. “Yes,” she nodded, eyes wide open.
“Is he your nephew?”
“Jack,” she murmured. She smiled broadly.
The nurse adjusted Daisy’s head on the pillow. “There you go, dear. Now you rest.”
* * *
Jack took a seat in the cramped medical director’s office. The desk was a mess. Freebies from pharmaceutical companies, blank pads and pens embossed with names like Merck and Pfizer were mixed in with scattered pink and yellow papers, and a variety of tiny mechanical windup cars and robots. A white coffee mug with red We Love You Grandpa lettering, still a quarter full with black coffee, rested on an open copy of the latest edition of the New England Journal of Medicine. Jack wondered how anyone could work in such surroundings. Enid had gone to the restroom. He glanced repeatedly out the open door to the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of her as she walked by.
Dr. Mueller, a balding man in his late sixties with fine white hair and a large bulbous nose, shifted a stack of medical records from his chair to the floor near his feet so that he might sit down. “Excuse the mess,” he apologized. “I’m the chairman of the hospital’s quality committee. I have to review these cases before our next meeting on Friday morning.”
Jack nodded in sympathy as if he understood. “My wife should be here any moment,” he said, shifting the conversation as he continued to look toward the door. “I’d prefer if we waited for her before we begin. I’m not very good with all of this.”
Mueller looked at his watch. “Well, I don’t have much time. If it’s okay with you . . .”
“Over here,” Jack called, spotting Enid.
She stopped midstep. While Jack wore an old pair of jeans with a cotton shirt of bold, red and blue stripes, Enid had dressed for the occasion in a sophisticated olive green dress and white sandals, full makeup and gold jewelry.
Enid took a seat.
“We’ve spoken to your aunt,” Mueller started.
Jack’s tone revealed his excitement. “So we are related?”
“Ms. Lee confirmed her brother’s name was indeed Jacob. And she did recognize your name.”
“Really,” Jack said enthusiastically. “Are there any other family members? Children?”
Mueller shook his head. “We have no next of kin.”
“She never married?”
“We don’t know her full history. We just know she’s currently single.” Mueller’s face was stoic.
“When might we be able to talk with her?” Jack asked.
“Her condition is very serious. These superbugs are hard to knock out. She’s barely holding her own, though I’m happy to say her fever has come down and she’s no longer delirious. We should know more in a few days.”
“Oh,” was all that Jack could manage.
Mueller lifted the coffee mug, tilted it, looked inside, and then returned it to the desk. “You understand that you have no legal rights to make any healthcare decisions on her behalf.”
“Of course not,” Jack answered, surprised at the turn of the discussion. “We just wanted to know if she was indeed my aunt.”
Afterward, as he and Enid waited for the elevator, Jack was deep in thought. Stepping into the elevator, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the obvious, “It’s really crazy. I never met my father’s sister, and now I have the opportunity, but she may not survive. It’s the damnedest thing.”
Enid, who’d been quiet and pensive, brightened. “You’re probably her only living relative, Jack. If she dies, there could be an inheritance.”
Jack was aghast. Leave it to Enid to be focused on money.
“Jack, you might inherit her estate. We could trade up to a bigger Biltmore property. A home in Taliverde. Those homes are one-of-a-kind.” There was a gleam in Enid’s eye. “This could be quite a windfall.”
“Taliverde is well beyond our means,” Jack countered, annoyed by Enid’s suggestion. “The monthly association dues alone are more than we can afford.”
“Daisy’s house must be worth some money. I wonder how she had the means to settle in the Biltmore. She must have a sizeable nest egg.”
“Enid, I don’t think we should be counting her money. After all, we’re strangers. For all I know she’s living on Social Security.”
“Jack, that�
��s ridiculous. No one in the Biltmore is living on Social Security.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Tomorrow, I’m going to find a lawyer who can advise us.”
“I’m not comfortable with this,” Jack admitted as they walked through the hospital lobby. “I feel like a vulture.”
“Someone has to help her,” Enid argued. “She’s all alone. She may need us to make medical decisions. We might need a power of attorney. We have a lot to do.”
“It’s all happening too fast,” Jack said, as they crossed the parking lot toward their car.
“And tomorrow, we’re going to ask Sheila for the key to Daisy’s house. I want to see her place.”
“She’s not going to give us the key,” Jack insisted.
“Oh yes she will,” Enid assured him. “You just leave that discussion to me. I’ll get those keys and we’ll see that house. Mark my words.”
Jack had no doubt. Enid could be a dog with a bone, especially when money was involved. As Jack backed out of the spot, his cell phone rang. He fumbled for it in his pocket. “Yes,” he said, listening carefully to the other party on the line. “Okay, we’re coming back.”
“Who was that?” Enid asked.
“The hospital. She’s gone into convulsions.”
The Intersect is available in paperback or e-book on Amazon.com and through all fine retailers.