Lib Novel Page 26
Stepping out of the house, I find Aunt Mel walking toward Dad’s wrought iron gate.
“How is he?” she asks carefully.
“He’s better. Can you please stay with him today?”
“Of course, hon. But he needs someone with him more often.” Aunt Mel’s eyebrows furrow. “I’ll ask Fred to spend more time with Jason, and maybe take a sabbatical myself.”
My chest squeezes in gratefulness at her concerned voice.
“You’re the best sister in the world. Do you know that?” I throw my arms around her. “I have a plan. I’ll tell you more about it in the evening. Right now, I have to reach the town hall.”
“Is Mr. Hawthorne really announcing his fiancée’s name?”
“What? No! Why would you ask that?”
“He’s doing an exclusive media interview for the first time. Isn’t it being called raw, personal, and honest? What’s more personal than that for him?”
“No, Aunt Mel. He’s definitely not doing that.”
“Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent. If he were doing such a thing, I’d definitely know it.” She doesn’t know that my boss is so precise and perfect that he’s rehearsed each of his statements for today more than a dozen times, and we’ve gone over them together more than that.
“Oh, really?” She shrugs. “What a shame, then.”
I understand that people are curious about Charles’ single status, but these days, everyone is a second away from being a reverend and marrying him off.
Leaving Aunt Mel with her disappointed thoughts, I slip into the back seat of Charles’ limo.
“Did Charles call you, Dave?” I ask as the car begins to move.
“You know him well, Daisy. He certainly did. But I told Mr. Hawthorne you were at your folks’, and it looked urgent,” Dave replies, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror for a second.
“And?” My heart races with anticipation.
“He said not to disturb you.”
“Oh.” I’m a mix of confused and relieved at Charles’ unexpected understanding behavior, though concern for Dad quickly replaces every other feeling.
My fingers race across the phone screen as I search for the cost of a full-time nurse.
What on earth?
Aren’t there a few too many zeros on this figure?
I use my nail to trace along the digits on the screen, hoping I’m making a mistake in reading them, but the numbers stubbornly remain unchanged. My shoulders slump in defeat. Even with a loan and draining my savings, I wouldn’t be able to afford it for long. The figures stare back at me like an unsolvable puzzle, mocking my efforts.
Dad’s confused gaze and his uncertain voice saying my name flood my mind. Today, he recognized me, but I know someday he won’t.
My hand clutches at my chest, fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt. I blink rapidly, willing the tears away, but they refuse to listen. A droplet falls onto my hand, still clutching the phone.
Could this day possibly get any worse?
And within the hour, I receive my answer—a big blaring yes!
7
CAKE CATASTROPHE