Chapter Two.
Jessica sat in the mauve armchair a few feet from a row of public telephones lining the hospital’s plush waiting area. She crossed her ankles, tapped the upholstered armrest with restless fingers and fretted about what had happened between her boss and his estranged son. The strained interaction between the two men hadn’t been completely unexpected, of course, but the source of friction had certainly taken her by surprise. She’d never seen Crandall behave so coldly. His behavior had shocked her to the core. After five years of working with Crandall Monroe, Jessica certainly wasn’t blind to his faults. He was indisputably difficult, perfectionistic and frustratingly hard to please. But he was also compassionate and understanding, a man of unquestioned integrity who would never betray the confidence of a friend. Jessica admired him immensely and trusted him completely. Yet he’d acted as if his son’s presence had been less important than a visit from the postman Jessica was completely baffled by that, and by Devon’s faked indifference, as well. Despite his obvious concern and the fact that he’d just traveled halfway around the world to reach his father’s side, he’d stood there with a blank expression implying that his sudden appearance was nothing more than coincidence. There was something odd going on between the two men, something that transcended whatever problems they’d had during Devon’s last visit. A guilty twinge served as a reminder that Jessica had held Devon solely responsible for those problems. Now she was beginning to wonder if she’d misjudged him. Her silent speculation was interrupted as he emerged from the corridor and glanced around the spacious lobby. Before she could react, he spotted her, ambled over and settled wearily in the closest chair. He wiped his face with his hands. “Did you finish making your telephone calls? ” “Yes. I just had to check in with the office, then let Gunda know that you’d arrived safe and sound. ” When he didn’t respond, Jessica fiddled with the hem of her blocky, hip-length jacket. ” I’m supposed to tell you that she’s preparing Rindsrouladen and Kartoffel.. something. “
“Kartoffelpuffers. “
“Ah. Well, whatever they are, you’re having them for dinner. “
His eyes warmed, just a little. “They’re German potato fritters. “
“Umm. Sounds good. ” Leaning forward, Devon propped his elbows on his knees and stared at his scuffed boots. “You’re welcome to join us. Gunda always makes enough for a small army. ” Jessica declined the polite but perfunctory invitation. “Another time, perhaps. ” His only response was a thin nod; then his eyes glazed and he was completely lost in thought. Folding her arms, Jessica leaned back and regarded this enigmatic man, noting how different he was from his paunchy, round-faced father. Other than matching heads full of thick russet hair, the men were so physically different it was difficult to believe they were even related. Crandall was a good four inches shorter than his son, with an orbital face that would have seemed jolly if not for the hard glint in his shrewd, dark eyes. In contrast, everything about Dev on Monroe was sharp, angular, from his chiseled cheekbones to his patrician nose. But the eyes didn’t fit. Devon’s crystalline blue irises were outlined by a dark cerulean shade and reflected a secret softness that seemed strangely alien in an otherwise fore boding landscape. She cleared her throat. “Is everything, ah, all right? Between you and your father, that is. “
“Hmm? ” Devon blinked as though seeing her for the first time. “
“Oh.
Sure. “
Somehow she doubted that. “I hope you understand that Crandall has been through a lot the past few days. ” ‘ He nodded without conviction. “That doesn’t excuse his rudeness, of course. ” Jessica twisted her fingers together, wishing she didn’t feel compelled to defend her boss.
“I’m sure he doesn’t realize how brusque he sounded. “
Devon’s lips curved in a sad half smile that made her heart flutter strangely. “Don’t worry about my feelings. My father and I understand each other. “
She took no comfort from that, nor was she certain she believed it.
Having lost her own beloved father, she was dismayed and deeply saddened by the obvious emotional distance between the two men. She was also determined to change it, although at the moment, that task seemed a monumental one.
Still, she had to try. She owed Crandall that, and so much more.
“Lieber Gott!” Gunda exclaimed as Devon stepped into the expansive foyer.
“Your bones walk beneath skin!”
Grinning, Devon dropped his duffel onto the polished marble floor. “And you are more beautiful than ewer, Liebchen. ” “Such a naughty boy. ” The blocky woman slapped his arm then proudly patted her thick waist. “I am old and I am fat. But you-” She wiggled a reproachful finger. “Does no one feed you? ” “Not like you. Now give me a hug. ” He swept the laughing woman into his arms and swung her around until she squealed in protest. “
“You will break yourself!”
“Not me. I’m macho. Haven’t you heard? I run through battlefields with a tank in one hand and a Minicam in the other. ” Devon lowered her to the floor and kissed her flushed cheek. “I like your new hairstyle. ” “Do you? ” Blushing madly, Gunda fluffed her freshly layered locks with her fingers. “There is so little left, my head feels like a balloon” “It makes you look years younger, ” Devon assured her, although in truth he rather missed the fat braid that had been wound at her nape for as long as he could remember. Despite the alien mob of per med honey brown hair and the fact that her apple-round face had begun to sag at the throat, Devon still considered her to be beautiful. Gunda had been like a mother to Devon, comforting him when life had turned cruel, offering warmth and love to counter his father’s indifference. If not for her, he’d have never known softness, never experienced the solace of a nurturing touch. Seeing her again brought back the memories and the gratitude. He affectionately framed her plump face with his palms. “I’ve missed you. ” Bringing up her thick hands, Gunda grasped his forearms’ Then why do you not write more often? It has been two months. ” “I know. I’m sorry. ” Sighing, he released her and stepped away, knowing that she’d be horrified to learn that up until last week, he’d been interviewing a notorious rebel leader who’d been known to permanently dispatch journalists who’d dared write an unfavorable report. “How’s Katrina At the mention of her beloved granddaughter, Gunda lit up like neon. “
“Last week she asked for water!”
“No kidding? That’s great!” Since the autistic seven-year old had rarely uttered an intelligible word, Devon shared the housekeeper’s excitement. “It’s because of you. If you had not found this special school…” The woman’s voice broke. She wiped her misty eyes. ” Now my Katrina has a chance to live. ” “I just made a few phone calls, ” Devon murmured, embarrassed by the praise.
He hoisted his duffel and glanced up the winding staircase.
Gunda followed his gaze. “Of course, you are tired and hungry after your trip. You must rest. “
“When will the Kartoffelpuffers be ready? “
“Soon, ” she assured him, then glanced around the foyer as though just realizing that they were alone. “
“Where is Miss. Newcomb? I was hoping that she would stay for dinner”
“She had other plans ” At least, Devon assumed that had been the reason for her abrupt departure. After a silent drive from the hospital to the house, Jessica had dropped him off in front of his father’s mansion, politely refused a second invitation to sample Gunda’s German cuisine, then driven away looking pale and exhausted.
The housekeeper sighed. “
“Ah. That is too bad. ” ’”
“Do you know her well? “
“Not well, ” Gunda confessed. “I do not believe anyone knows Miss. Newcomb well. ” That didn’t surprise Devon. There was something elusive about her, along with a sense of secrecy that was oddly intriguing’ So you find her aloof? “
The woman’s blue eyes rounded. “Ach du lie bert I find no such thing.
Miss. Newcomb has always been very friendly and kind, although she doesn’t care to speak about herself”
“Maybe she has something to hide. “
“Always you seek the worst. ” Gunda shook her head and gestured impatiently toward the stairs. ” Go now. Wash yourself. Change into clothes that do not reek so you can enjoy the fine meal I have prepared. “Yes, ma’am. ” Grinning, Devon touched two fingers to his forehead in a sloppy salute. He hoisted his duffel and started toward the stairs. “Warte mal, ” Gunda said suddenly. “I nearly forgot. Mr. Arroya read about your father’s illness in the newspaper. When he called to offer his good wishes, I mentioned that you would be home soon. He asked that you call him. ” ‘ With that, she strode down the hall like a panzer and disappeared into the kitchen. Devon clutched the carved banister in a white-knuckled grip. It wasn’t a surprise that Bobby had called. They always got together when Devon was in town. This time their reunion would be different. This time he knew what Bobby expected. He just wasn’t sure he could go through with it. Clutching a stuffed key ring, Jessica stepped off the elevator on the sixth floor of her sculptured condominium complex. Her poor feet, victimized by excruciatingly fashionable narrow-toed pumps, screamed in protest. Her muscles ached. She was weary to the bone. As the mirrored doors swished shut behind her, she quickly scanned the crystal-lit corridor. Since it was deserted , she kicked off her shoes and moaned in relief. Thank God tomorrow was Saturday, a day of loafers and sweatshirts and sloppy blue jeans. Except, of course, for the hours she’d spend in the hospital with Crandall. Then she’d have to reassume the executive persona that she’d so scrupulously nurtured for the past five years. At the moment, however, she wished that she’d opted for a less-urbane career. Maybe she should have become a veterinarian She loved animals, after all, and every vet she’d ever seen had been dressed in a comfortable lab coat and baggy slacks. And not one of them had been wearing high heels. Sighing, she wiggled her swollen toes on the plush velour carpet, scooped up her shoes and limped to her apartment door. Her fingers trembled so it took two tries to fit the key into the slot. Finally the lock clicked and the door swung open. Once inside her disheveled apartment, Jessica collapsed on a secondhand sofa from a nearby thrift shop and propped her throbbing feet on a coffee table made from a slab of polished granite and molded concrete blocks. God, she was tired. She’d overdone it again. Her ribs throbbed, she was fatigued to the point of nausea and the damnable weakness had overtaken her so quickly that it’ was frightening She had to slow down.
And she would. Next week.
Things would be better next week. They had to be. Nothing could be worse than what she’d already endured. A sharp pain stabbed into her armpit. She winced silently , glanced at her watch and moaned. No wonder her body felt like it was falling apart.
She should have taken her medication three hours ago.
After scrounging through the cluttered interior of her purse, she extracted several prescription bottles and shook the proper dosage of each into her palm. With some effort, she hauled her aching body up, went to the neat galley kitchen and washed the pills down her parched throat. As she leaned against the counter, her weary gaze fell on the refrigerator, which was barely visible beneath a layer of papers held with bug-shaped magnets. She should eat, of course. The doctor had warned her that regular meals were an important part of the recovery process. Nevertheless, her stomach rebelled at the thought. Perhaps she could make up for lost calories by eating twice as much tomorrow, when she’d had a chance to rest and recover from the grueling events of the day. Right now, all she wanted was a hot bath and a soft mattress. She flipped off the kitchen light and went into the adjoining living area, pausing to gaze out at the twinkling city. The view always took her breath away. That vast, nighttime panorama was why she’d spent her entire trust fund on a cramped condo instead of purchasing a conservative home in the suburbs. Her mother and stepfather had been appalled , citing city crime rates and the decay of metropolitan property values. As always, Jessica had listened politely then done exactly what she wanted to do. She hadn’t regretted it. At least, not yet. But then impulsive acts and snap judgments had always been part-some might say a flaw-of her nature. Jessica had never considered her decisiveness to be a problem. God wouldn’t have given people brains if He didn’t want them to be used for weighing evidence, assessing options and making informed decisions. Sometimes those conclusions could be wrong, of course. Her initial reaction to Devon Monroe came to mind. Two years ago, she’d considered him to be coarse, crude and completely lacking in consideration for his father’s feelings. But today she’d noticed something different about the brash young journalist, a secretive sadness that was deeply stirring. After seeing the two men interact at the hospital, Jessica realized that her original assessment had been tainted by her own bias. To her, Crandall Monroe had been a dear friend and trusted confidant; to his son, however, he d been cool and withdrawn. That had shocked and saddened her. It had also thrown a major monkey wrench into her plan to facilitate a truce between the two men. Rubbing her chilled arms, she turned away from the window Healing the emotional rift between father and son would take a lot more effort than she’d imagined. The first step would be to learn the root cause of their mutual mistrust and hostility. Then perhaps she could do something to help. Jessica had learned how fragile life was, and how fleeting. When those we cherish are gone, it is too late to regret postponed kindnesses and unspoken affections. Crandall Monroe had supported Jessica during the bleakest moments of her life. Now she wanted to repay him with a gift more valuable than gold.
She wanted to give him back his son.
The first thing Devon saw as he drove into the condominium’s guest parking lot was a hunter green Jaguar with its hood up. The second thing he saw was a curvaceous derriere protruding from the engine compartment. He hit the brake, staring in disbelief. There was no doubt in his mind that Jessica Newcomb was the proud owner of that lovely round bottom, but he couldn’t fathom why in hell a prissy and proper socialite would be folded into a greasy car engine Thoroughly intrigued, Devon pulled his father’s beige Mercedes into the nearest parking space. The Jaguar was parked a hundred feet away, beside a hose bib located toward the rear of the building. Jessica didn’t look up as he slammed the car door or as he crossed the warm asphalt. There was an open toolbox beside her sneakered feet, along with a plastic bag from a local auto parts chain. A smudged towel that had been spread over the Jag’s gleaming fender was cluttered with a variety of box wrenches, bolts and washers. Just as he came up behind her, she levered herself on tiptoe and dived deeper into a tangled hose mass, her fleece clad elbow jerking with rhythmic twists.