Always and Forever (9 page)

“Yeah, you two go enjoy yourselves.”

When they headed out the door, Pat felt a sting of jealousy. He wished his and Brie’s lives had room for impromptu strolls and a lazy morning together.

Stop it. You have a nice life together.

They did. He’d concentrate on how much fun the party had been on Sunday. Everybody had been in a good mood until Bailey called. Then they’d all sensed her feelings of loss, that she wasn’t as much a part of their lives anymore. It had bummed them out, too. Late that night, though, his wife had erased all that from his mind with some mind-blowing sex in the pool.

Lighthearted, he played
some of his favorite oldies on the jukebox and made quick work of cleaning up, checking the bar stock, then he stepped outside. The sun was bright enough to hurt his eyes as he stood under the green awning and surveyed the area.

It was time to decide about putting tables on the front sidewalk and converting the space into a serving station. He knew the measurements. They had room for four
tables on each side of the door. But Pat was reluctant to set up outdoor dining because it brought a whole bunch of problems with it. Still, he studied the area and pictured the expansion.

“Patrick!” a little voice called out.

Pat got a glimpse of the boy, Ben, coming down the street, holding Jamie’s hand. “Hey there, you two.”

Just after Pat’s greeting, Ben broke away from his mother
and started running toward the pub. Too fast. Pat cupped his hands and shouted, “Slow down, Benno. I’ll wait right here.”

But the boy didn’t decrease his speed. He ran even faster. Something niggled at Pat and he started forward. When Ben was ten feet away, Pat thought he’d been foolish to worry—but then Ben stumbled and went down. Hard. On his head. On the sidewalk. He screeched like the
dickens when he hit the concrete.

Pat reached him first, but Jamie wasn’t far behind. Kneeling down, he saw the child was motionless. Oh, dear Lord.

Jamie knelt, too.

Gingerly Pat turned Ben over. A huge goose egg marred his forehead and the skin was broken. The wound was already darkening and bloody.

“Mommy!” The boy made soft, hiccupping sobs. “It hurts.”

Jamie took his hand.
“I can see, buddy,” she said calmly, taking a white cloth out of her bag and placing it on his head. “You feel bad. We have to get some help.” She looked up at Pat. “Do you have your phone?”

Pat whipped it out and punched in 911. “One hundred MacDougal Street. Three-year-old boy. He has a gash on his head that’s gonna need stitches.”

“Tell them he hit the sidewalk hard enough to have a
concussion.” Her voice was low and serious.

Pat relayed the information then clicked off. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. I would have driven you to the hospital, but traffic will be bad. An ambulance can get down the streets faster.”

“I understand.” She never took her gaze off Ben. “You’re going to be fine, honey.”

The boy glanced up at Pat and put his fingers in his mouth. His
big blue eyes were full of tears. Soon, a siren rent the air, and an ambulance swerved into a space in front of the pub. Two women in blue medic uniforms leaped out.

“Right here,” Pat said, stupidly, because they could see just fine. He stood and backed away.

The women eased Jamie out of the way. She stood, wrapped her arm around her waist and covered her mouth with her other hand. She
didn’t cry, whimper or even react much. Still, he went to her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, “Ben’s gonna be okay.”

“I know. I just hate to see him in pain.” She continued to watch her son. “He never runs away. He must have been excited to see you.”

One of the attendants came toward them. “Are you the boy’s mother?”

Jamie nodded.

“We’re getting a backboard. Your son
has to have stitches. I called the supervising doc, and he said Ben will need X-rays.”

Jamie nodded in assent.

“You can ride in the ambulance. He’s so little.”

As the women slid Ben onto a backboard, Jamie faced Pat again. “I was supposed to be at the day care in a few minutes. Can you call them?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She bit her lip, her very first show of vulnerability.

“Jamie,
is there anybody else I can call to go to the hospital with you?”

“Nobody but Grandma, and this would upset her.”

Nodding, he walked with them to the ambulance, where they got Ben situated. Pat helped Jamie into the rig. “Where are you takin’ him?” he asked the medics.

“Memorial.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“What? No, no, you don’t have to. I can handle this.”

“Obviously you
can. But I’ll be there just the same.”

The ambulance sped away. He walked into the pub, put up the closed sign and called the day care to inform them of the accident. Then he phoned Liam. No one answered. He left by way of the back, locked up tight, and got in his Volvo. He’d call Liam again on the way. Maybe Gale could come in, too. Or Joe Sweeney.

Pat knew he didn’t have to go to the
hospital, but this was an emergency. Just because it wasn’t his didn’t mean he shouldn’t step up.

As Brie drove to the Carson house to assess the job, sun brightened the yards, which were filled with huge trees and bursts of flowers. She pulled up to the small, old residence. The professional in her smiled—she bet it contained all kinds of gems. But she was nervous, too, so
she fidgeted with the strap on her purse while she waited by her car. She’d rather not have this face-to-face meeting, but she assessed all of InPlace’s work and she wouldn’t change that because Pat was jealous. No, that wasn’t fair. Pat had reason.

A big black SUV pulled into the driveway, and Phillip got out. He looked like the stereotypical FBI agent on TV. Wearing a meticulous dark suit,
white shirt and muted tie, he even had on sunglasses, which he removed as he came up to her.

“Well, hello, at last.” Leaning down, he kissed her cheek. She was surprised and stepped back. “I hope I’m not late,” he added.

“Nope, I’m early.” She’d been up at dawn, supervising the children’s schedule today with Irene. “I’m anxious to see the inside.”

“Try not to get overwhelmed. She was
a pack rat.”

“How long ago did she die?”

“Six months. It still…bothers me.”

Gently, she squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sorry that you lost her.”

“Yeah, me, too.” He glanced away. “Before we go in, can you explain to me why you won’t be handling this? I thought that was our deal.”

“I’m busy with a house on Long Island, Phillip. I overestimated the needs of that job.”

“We could
wait to do this. There’s no hurry.”

“I think it’s better all-around for Annie to take the lead. If she needs help, one of the other employees can be made available.”

His green eyes darkened. She’d forgotten the…magnetism of them. “Are you sure that’s all this is?”

“It’s not all of it.” Damn, it, she wasn’t going to cower from the truth. “Patrick doesn’t want me seeing you.”

“What
about your other jobs? Is he jealous of those, too?”

“No, and I wouldn’t say this is simply jealousy. He’s entitled, Phillip.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

“Well, it’s mine. Shall we go inside?”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, then said, “Sure.”

When he opened the door, she saw he hadn’t exaggerated. There was
stuff
everywhere. The musty smell of dust and the staleness
of a closed-up home assaulted her.

“What a mess.”

She walked around the living room. The square footage was miniscule compared to Jonathan Forbes’s parlor, but it had the same, timeworn feel to it. And sense of history. Because she was still unnerved, she chattered. “I’m working on another house like this. Jonathan Forbes is a dear, sweet old man whose wife died, and he’s pretty inconsolable.”
She picked up a magazine from a stack piled three feet high in the corner. “Wow. This is an old copy of
Life
Magazine
.” She glanced up. “Phillip, it’s worth money. Norman Rockwell’s on the cover.”

“That’s why I wanted
you
to do this. I know some of her things are valuable, but there’s a lot of junk here. And I can’t deal with the personal items yet. I wanted you to sort everything out because
I trust you.”

“Annie can do all that. She’ll need to call in an appraiser, too.” She glanced around. “How many rooms?”

“Two bedrooms upstairs. A kitchen, dining area and this room downstairs. Plus another bedroom, where she slept. I’m afraid the second floor will be the worst. She never went up there anymore.”

“No problem. That’s what we do at InPlace.”

He checked his watch. “Listen,
I don’t have any major cases right now, but I’ve got meetings all morning. How long will you be here?”

“I’ll need an hour or so to give you a quote.” She planned to meet Pat later at the pub for lunch.

“Okay.” He studied her. “I’m sorry I’m not going to be seeing you regularly.”

“Annie’s great. You’ll be pleased with her.”

He put his sunglasses on. “Take care of yourself, Brie.”
Then he added ominously, “Do what makes you happy.”

“I am, Phillip.”

When he left, she got right to work. She wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

“He has a slight concussion, Mr. and Mrs. Ralston.” Dr. Grant, as his name tag read, exuded a calm that was needed in pediatricians. Parents put their children’s lives in the hands of men like him all the time,
so a good demeanor was helpful.

“We’re not married,” Jamie told him. “Patrick’s a friend.”

“Sorry for the confusion.” He addressed Jamie. “As I said, your son’s concussion is slight, but the gash requires several stitches.”

Jamie sighed. She was losing steam, he could tell by the way her whole body slumped. She’d tied her hair back in a ponytail making her look even younger.

“I’ll
keep him here until tonight. He can go home by ten p.m.”

“Fine.” She nodded to the ER cubicle. “Can I stay with him while he gets the stitches? He’ll be scared.”

“Of course. I’ll have a nurse set up, and I’ll be back to do them.”

The guy nodded to Pat, then left.

“Sorry,” she said to him. “I’m embarrassed.”

“Huh, I’m not. I could practically be your father, so I’m flattered.”

“Give me a break.” She opened the door and they went inside Ben’s room. The common hospital smell of antiseptic filled the space.

The small figure lay still. “Mommy. It still hurts.”

And would hurt more soon before this was over.

“I know, baby. The doctor’s going to fix your head. It’s like…sewing the skin up.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “It’ll hurt more.” He started to cry, soft whimpering
sounds that broke Pat’s heart.

So Pat sat on the side of the mattress. “Hey, Benno. It’ll hurt when they start, but you won’t even feel the rest.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I had lots of stitches,” Pat told the boy, remembering some of his injuries. “And so did all my brothers. You’re tough like us. You can take it.”

His fingers crept into his mouth, but at least he stopped crying. When
the doc came back in with a nurse, Pat rose. “I’m, gonna get going. Call me if you need a ride home tonight.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

Ben’s little hand sought out Pat’s big one. “Don’t go.”

“Ben, Patrick has to get back to work.”

“Gale’s there, and I did get in touch with Joe Sweeney. He’s covering the bar for me. I could wait until this process is over.”

Jamie mouthed, “Thank
you,” and Pat gave her a half smile. It was a small concession, and it was the right thing to do.

Brie arrived at Bailey’s at eleven, early, but she was hoping to talk to Pat before the lunch crowd came in. The scent of Irish stew that permeated the empty kitchen made her stomach growl. In the pub, she was surprised to find Gale Sullivan behind the bar. Customers three deep
had already lined up outside.

Gale glanced over at her, and for the first time, Brie noticed how attractive he was. His glasses gave him a professor-like look, and his light brown hair was a little long and wavy. “Hello, Mrs. O’Neil.”

“Please, Gale, call me Brie.”

His smile was pleasant. “Brie, then.”

“I thought you were hired as a cook?”

“I am. But Joe Sweeney called back
and said he can’t get here until noon. So I’m setting up.”

“Where’s Patrick?”

“I’m sure he’ll be right along.”

“From where?”

“I don’t know. He said there was some kind of emergency, and he needed somebody to cover bartending until Sweeney came in.”

“We were supposed to have lunch together.”

“I’m at a loss then.” He nodded to the stool. “Why don’t you sit and wait. I’ll
get you some coffee.”

Brie took a stool at the bar. And began to get irritated, though she knew she’d come here already in a pissy mood after her encounter with Phillip. Gale brought her coffee and a cup for himself. “We still have a half hour before the crowds descend. Then there’ll be a barrage. Mind if I join you?”

“I’d like that.” She sipped the brew, and its strong scent, the caffeine
perked her up some. “Gale, you teach right?”

“Yep, Women’s Studies.”

“Seriously? Wow.”

His brows furrowed. “Wow, why?”

“Because you don’t see many men in that field of study.”

“I love women. I want them to have equality in every aspect.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“You’re thinking because I’m divorced my views are surprising?”

“No, no, of course not.”

“I feel
strongly about the role of women in society today. In my marriage, she didn’t. And it was hard to live with someone who had the opposite views as mine.”

Tell me about it.
“I wasn’t prying. Pat said you wanted the job because of a recent divorce.”

“And cutbacks at the college. I only have one summer course, second session. I need the money but the work, too.” He drank his coffee. “Tell
me about your job. Patrick says you run your own company. And you’re good at putting things—and people—in their place.”