"No. Don't thank me. All of this, and I don't mean this legal bullshit, I mean all of this, Buchanan and Willis, is because of your drive. My life and Kel's is because—"
"Because you've kept a tight leash on me."
His laughter fills the room. "Fuck, I just had a vision of Kimbra holding that leash."
"Not quite my thing, but I'm always up for new challenges."
"That's been the problem, man. But now it's her problem."
"I haven't heard her complaining."
"See you tomorrow." Mike reaches out and grabs my arm. "This place isn't that big. Rumors fly and people talk. Don't you think your involvement in this lawsuit would sound better coming from you? Doesn't Kimbra deserve that?"
"She deserves that and more. Besides, you know that I don't do secrets."
Mike nods as we head our separate directions.
I let myself in to Kimbra's apartment with the key Shana left behind. It isn't like I took it. Well, I did, but with Kimbra's permission. My hope is to find her in some compromising position, perhaps with a glass of moscato and a bathtub full of bubbles.
Hearing noises from her bedroom, I lock the door behind me and make my way down the hall. She has this great headboard and there's always her old vibrator in the bedside stand. My mind fills with ideas guaranteed to drive her nuts before we find something for dinner.
I know what I'm hungry for.
As I turn the corner, I stop dead in my tracks. Kimbra's eyes are red and she's pulling clothes from her dresser, filling a small suitcase.
"What the hell is happening?"
Her entire body quakes as her eyes close and she sinks to the corner of her mattress. "I-I...tell...I...need...you were busy. I told Eric."
Rushing to her, I fall to my knees. "Told Eric what?" That fucker. If he said something to her first, we'll have another termination on the books at Buchanan and Willis.
"Duncan, I can't stay. I have to go back to Indiana."
"What are you talking about? If Eric told you about the lawsuit, it's not an issue. We're meeting with legal tomorrow. The whole thing is bullshit anyway." I wipe away another tear from her cheek with the pad of my thumb. "You don't have to leave. This isn't going to affect your job."
Kimbra sits taller. "Lawsuit? I have no idea what you're talking about. My mom called me late this afternoon. I told Jorge to have you call me."
"I didn't see Jorge. I was in a hurry to get to you. He wasn't at his desk, and I didn't check in with him before I left. Your mom?" Panic takes root. "What? What happened? Why do you need to go to Indiana?"
"Duncan, it's Grandma Helen..."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kimbra
My heart races and my skin feels cold and clammy as my shoes squeak upon the shiny tile of the hospital hallway. The doors open as I make my way down another corridor in search of her room.
I have no idea what's happening. My damn phone died partway through my forever travels. I could have waited for Duncan, but I didn't want to. I wanted to get here as fast as possible. In hindsight, I made the wrong choice. You would think that finding a last-minute flight to Indianapolis from New York wouldn't be difficult, but apparently, that isn't always the case. Even though I made it to JFK last night, it's now Thursday morning, nearly sixteen hours and two delays later.
Besides, I couldn't expect Duncan to drop everything and join me. Not after he'd explained the whole mess with Carla. Mike wanted him present for the meeting with legal. His company takes precedence. Grandma Helen is my family, not his. She isn't his responsibility.
My feet still and mouth goes dry as I find the right room number on a small plaque beside the door. Taking a deep breath, I push the door inward, unsure what to expect. The last I'd heard she was in surgery. The details were sketchy at best.
The overpowering blare of a television drowns out the beeps of monitors.
Gritting my teeth, I steel myself for the worst as I step farther into the room.
"Kimberly Ann!" my mom yells as she rushes toward me.
Her petite frame swallows me before I can take a good look at Grandma. "How...?"
"Look at that!" Grandma Helen says, pointing to the television screen filled with The Price Is Right. "I wouldn't have bid so high. Maybe they don't buy their prizes on Amazon."
Tears fill my eyes as I rush to her bedside. "Grandma, I was so worried when Mom said you fell."
"Damn ankle broke. That's the problem with getting old. The balance isn't what it used to be."
I scan her up and down. Her arm is bruised—a nasty, dark color. The lower part of her right leg is outside the covers, with some type of air boot that hums. ""You're okay? Just your ankle and a few bruises?"
"Just my ankle? Do you realize I'll be out for this whole square-dancing season? The whole season! I suppose old Fred McKinney will find another partner."
"Mother!"
"McKinney, as in Darrin's grandpa?" I ask, more than a little shocked and grossed out.
"Judy, we only dance. And yes. That Darrin is a nice boy. He always asks about you.
"Besides," she goes on, talking to Mom, "your father wouldn't want me wasting away all alone. We talked about that." Grandma Helen looks at both of us. "And Fred..." Her eyebrows—currently, nonexistent because they're not painted on with makeup—dance. "...has some great moves. The doctors say I'll be up on one of those little scooters soon, but I'm sure Betsy Harmon—you know, from Fruitdale, right outside Cartersville—will be more than happy to take my place. She's always been a catty one. You can't trust women who lure men with homemade jams.
"In my day, my jelly was the best. Your grandpa used to say—"
The night of traveling and sitting in airports takes its toll as I collapse into a chair. I let out a deep sigh. "No one can take your place, Grandma. I'm sure Fred is too old to enjoy jams anyway."
Grandma Helen waves her hand. "No man is that old. Besides, it ain't no never mind. Look at me. Once I have two working ankles, I'll woo him back. By next season we'll be cutting the rug. Betsy isn't as wiry of an old broad as yours truly. I have moves too."
"No jelly though, Mom," my mother says.
"Well, you know, the strawberry seeds do tend to get caught." She squints my way. "Child, you look like something the cat dragged in. Where's that man of yours?"
My smile returns as I reach for the remote and turn down the volume of the TV. "He's still in New York. But he's good."
Grandma reaches for my left hand and shakes her head. "I thought the next time I saw you, there'd be a ring..."
"Stop, please."
"Honey, you know we just want you to be happy," Mom says.
I let out a long breath. "I am. Duncan wants me to move in with him."
"Do it!" Grandma says as Mom's lips purse. Grandma turns to my mother. "Oh, Judy, that's the way kids do it nowadays. It's not getting the milk for free—it's sampling. And even though I'm hard of hearing and my room was two doors down, I can tell you, I think he's sampled, and if he's asking Kimberly Ann to move in, he likes it."