Body Double (33 page)

Richard shrugged. “As far as I can tell, he has nothing against Gloria. His grudge is against her estate. Clarity was your dad’s life’s work, and Harold means to have it. If innocent lives are destroyed in the process, well, that’s just the price of Blake Thomas’s womanizing.”

“What does he have in place?” Blake asked. “What can I do to stop him from ruining my mom’s life?”

Richard shook his head. “At this point, nothing. He’s been buying Clarity stock for the last three years, and the deal with your mom is due to be finalized on Friday. Considering his health, it looks like you might be in the clear, presuming Sarah inherits his entire estate. Even I haven’t seen his will, and he named me as executor.”

If Sarah inherited everything, then as her husband, he would own half by law. His mom would get the technology she wanted, but there was still one thing left. The letter.

Andrea came out of the room, her face streaked with tears and her eyes bloodshot. Without a word, she went to him and put her arms around his waist.

He held her tight while she cried. Blake’s heart clenched, hating to see her like this. “What’d he say to you? Should I kick his ass?”

The absurdity of his question made her laugh through her tears, and she pulled back to look up at him. “He wants to talk to you.” When she saw Richard, her body went rigid.

“Andrea, Richard. Richard, Andrea,” Blake said.

She looked at Blake with wide eyes, obviously shocked he’d used her real name.

“He knows. I told him.”

“I’m sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances, Andrea,” Richard said. He picked up a box of tissues on a nearby table and offered it to her.

“Um...” She glanced at Blake uncertainly. “Me too. Thanks.” She blew her nose.

Blake looked at the open door of Harold’s room, steeling himself for what was to come. “I guess I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Blake,” she said, “Harold knows too.”

“What?” he asked, alarmed. Why would she have told him?

“There was some history between him and Sarah that I didn’t know. That made it easy for him to guess. I slipped up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, babe. You did the best you could.” It was bound to unravel sooner or later. There was nothing to do about it now but try to clean up the pieces and hope Harold wasn’t too pissed off. He straightened his shoulders and went in.

His father-in-law lay with his eyes closed. His normally pudgy face looked sunken, his skin sallow. Blake was struck by such a serious decline in the man who’d looked healthy, if a bit overindulgent, only two weeks earlier. It was a reminder of how quickly the things people took for granted could be stripped away.

He didn’t want to wake Harold, but he’d feel like a turd if he left without giving Harold a chance to say what he wanted to say before he died. Besides, Blake had a burning question of his own he wanted to ask before it was too late, a question only his father-in-law could answer.

He pulled a chair over, intending to sit for a few minutes in case Harold woke up, but when he turned around again, the old man’s eyes were open and staring at him. “Hey, Harold. I’m sorry about what happened. Are you comfortable? Can I do anything for you?”

“She’s a nice girl, that Andrea. Looks remarkably like my Sarah.”

“Yes she is, and yes she does. I mistook her for Sarah at first. Felt like a cad about it too.”

Harold pointed to the cup of water on the tray beside his bed. “Do you mind?”

Blake held the cup and pointed the straw at Harold’s lips for him to drink. After a few swallows, Harold nodded, and Blake set it down.

“Who is she to you?”

“Andrea?” Blake wasn’t sure how to answer that. He didn’t want to piss Harold off, but he’d come here for the truth. It would be disingenuous not to offer it in return. “I met her four days before the wedding—the day Sarah left for Colombia. She and Sarah had an arrangement, and I had to go along with it or postpone the wedding. I didn’t want to jeopardize your deal with Clarity, so I went along. We spent three days together before the wedding, running our pre-wedding errands and getting to know each other. I liked her. She was sweet and feminine and considerate and forthright. Spending two weeks in Hawaii, twenty-four/seven in her company, I got to know her intimately.”

Harold waited for him to continue, to admit what they both already knew.

“I fell in love with her. Andrea’s the woman I love. She’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“All this time, Sarah’s been in Colombia?” At Blake’s nod, he said, “Without consummation, your marriage to my daughter isn’t complete. The terms of our agreement haven’t been met.”

Blake clenched his teeth and his fists. So the bastard was going to send the letter to Gloria, to break her heart over something that happened twenty years ago, just because Blake hadn’t screwed his wife. “I married Sarah in good faith. She’s legally my wife. I can’t make her consummate the marriage, and I won’t pressure her into it. She has to come to my bed willingly or not at all. I’m not some caveman, Harold. If you’re going to hold that against me, then so be it, but why would you take your grievances out on my mom? She’s done nothing to you.”

Harold let out a sigh and seemed to relax more deeply into his pillow. “You’re right. She’s a delightful woman, and she’s been a good friend. The only friend I have, really. While everyone else follows me around hunched over, lips poised to kiss my ass, she has enough dignity to tell me when to shove it. And she smiles while she says it.” He chuckled hoarsely. “Reminds me a bit of Anna. Are you sure she wasn’t born and raised in the South?”

Harold’s softened demeanor took the edge off Blake’s anger. Staring death in the face had been known to change a man, but Blake didn’t think that was it. Something had happened. “You didn’t answer my question,” Blake said. “Why take it out on her?”

“I wasn’t taking it out on her, Blake. I was taking it out on your father’s legacy, the only thing left of him—his family and his estate.”

“You found a guy who looked enough like my father to make me think he was my half-brother. For what? To pressure me into complying with your demands?”

“Yes, exactly. Ingenious, wasn’t it? But it seems you beat me at my own game.”

“I never intended to deceive you. It—”

“I know. Sarah’s my daughter, and I take responsibility for the way she turned out. In some ways, I was a shitty father, though I didn’t mean to be. I didn’t let her grieve her mother’s death in her own way, I didn’t accept her for who she was, I sent her away rather than deal with the problems those first two issues created, and then I tried to buy her love back. I’ve made more than my share of mistakes. I let my own grief and anger fester and turn me into this.” He opened his palms, angled toward himself, indicating his sickly body. “An old tyrant, unloved and alone.” His voice cracked, and tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his temples and into his hair.

Compassion thickened Blake’s throat. The truth was harder to hear than he’d expected. “Harold,” he started, wanting to console the man but not quite knowing how. “You’re not unloved, and you’re not alone. Andrea and I are here. Richard’s here. My mom will come as soon as I tell her you’re out of the I.C.U..”

Harold waved his hand weakly. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but shut up and listen for a second. When Sarah comes back, I want you to invite her to your bed to make the marriage legitimate. If she refuses, and I’m sure she will, file for an annulment and then you’ll be free to marry Andrea if that’s what you want. If you do that, I’ll have Richard destroy the letter.”

Blake’s heart began to race. The idea of marrying Andrea filled him with more excitement than anything he could imagine, but what if Sarah didn’t refuse? She would. He knew she would, and getting the marriage annulled would be far less complicated than a divorce, since they wouldn’t have to split their marital assets. How could she possibly object to that? “What about the money? You promised her fifty million to marry me.”

“Don’t worry about that. She’ll get her money either way.”

“All right. We have a deal.”

Harold lifted his hand. “Since I’ll be dead by then, let’s shake on it like honorable men.”

He shook Harold’s weak hand, the agreement made. Blake was a man of his word, and he would make the offer to Sarah when she got home the next day. If she refused him, he would file for an annulment on Thursday—and visit a jeweler on the way to buy an engagement ring for Andrea.

“Thanks for coming, Blake. If I made your life miserable, I apologize. Now, go on. If Richard’s out there, send him in.”

Blake stood but hesitated. What did people say to a man who would be dead soon? Have an easy passing? Good luck in the afterlife? Here was a complex man he’d always assumed was nothing more than a domineering, vengeful bastard. He hadn’t given his father-in-law a fair shake. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you better, Harold.”

While Blake was talking to Harold, a man in a white lab coat approached, a stethoscope around his neck.

“Dr. Parsons,” Richard said. The doctor paused in front of Harold’s door. “This is Harold’s daughter, Sarah.”

Andrea glanced at him in surprise.

“You got here fast,” Dr. Parsons said, approaching to offer a hand to Andrea. “I understand you were in Colombia.”

She shook it. “I was on my way home when I got Richard’s message. Tell me about my dad’s condition.”

The doctor explained what happened to the heart muscle during a heart attack, and what made Harold’s episode more destructive than most. “I’m frankly surprised he’s still with us. Most patients who experience a heart attack that severe don’t survive the event.”

“I’m not. Surprised, that is. He’s a stubborn and willful man. So what are our options?”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do for him. Medication can keep him comfortable, but surgery isn’t an option due to the severe damage.”

Andrea lowered her brow. “Wait. You’re saying we just sit around and wait for him to die? No, no. That’s not going to happen. What about a transplant? Give him a healthy heart.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Gentry. The transplant waiting list is long, and he doesn’t meet the criteria for being moved to the top ahead of people who’ve been waiting.”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t meet the criteria? He’s a person. He’s got a family and friends and things he’s looking forward to. He wants grandchildren.”

“I understand,” Dr. Parsons said. “The determination isn’t made based on a judgment of his worth as a human being. It’s made based on factors such as his age and health and how well he’s taken care of himself and the heart he already has. I’m sorry. The decision wasn’t mine to make. The hospital has a review board—”

“Made up of people who haven’t met him? Made up of people who don’t love him?” Andrea asked, aware that her voice was getting louder, but she didn’t care. If her own father were in Harold’s position, she would damn sure fight for him.

“Made up of people who are objective and want every patient receiving a new heart to live a long and healthy life. Harold is a fifty-four-year-old obese smoker with high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and type two diabetes. He has followed none of his doctor’s advice to turn that around, and there’s little reason to believe he would take care of a new heart any better. I’m very sorry, Ms. Gentry.”

Blake exited Harold’s room, and Andrea ran to him, needing the comfort of his strong arms around her. He whispered, “It’s okay, babe. I’m here,” into her ear.

Without family around him, Harold had only Andrea and Blake to fight for him, and they were losing. Harold would be the biggest loser, and Sarah. She would live the rest of her life wishing she’d made it home in time, wishing she’d mended her relationship with her dad and told him those two words he longed to hear:
I’m sorry
.

After a moment, the doctor and Richard approached.

“Dr. Parsons, this is Blake, Sarah’s husband,” Richard said.

“Richard, he wants to see you,” Blake said. Andrea tucked herself under his left arm while he shook hands with the doctor. “How much time do you think he has?”

“We can only guess at this point,” Parsons said, “but it’s unlikely to be more than forty-eight hours.”

“And his chances of recovery?”

The doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry I don’t have good news for you.”

“All right,” Blake said. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

The doctor continued on his way. Andrea reached for Richard and gave him a familial hug. “And thank you,” she said softly, “for being someone he can count on.”

He hugged her back briefly. “Thanks for coming. I’m sure it lifted his spirits.”

Blake shook Richard’s hand. “Thanks for being here for him, Richard, and for being honest with me.”

Richard pressed his lips together and nodded before going into Harold’s room and easing the door shut behind him.

“Let’s head home,” Blake said. “There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

Andrea was hesitant to leave the hospital, knowing Harold could pass away at any moment. She felt like someone should be there with him, and who better than the person who most resembled his daughter? Except that her presence only served to remind him that his daughter didn’t love him. “Don’t you think we should stay? In case he... you know. You’re the closest thing to family he has.”