The Ninth Floor (2 page)

I hated seeing
Aunt Bee like this. She was always so strong, such a force to be reckoned with.
Then out of the blue, liver failure. No one saw it coming. She was no more than
a social drinker, she didn’t have hepatitis, and she exercised and ate
healthily practically every day of her life. But two weeks ago, she had an
allergic reaction, and the next thing she knew she was being told she needed a
transplant. It was impossible to comprehend.

I let out a
slow breath and scrolled through the emails on my phone. My boss had responded
to my resignation letter. He wondered if I was making a rash decision—and I
supposed I was. I still hadn’t wrapped my mind around being unemployed.
However, I knew from the research I’d done that once I had Bee well again, life
would never be the same. She needed me. Everything else had to wait.

*

Long before I was alive, my
mother and Aunt Bee inherited their parents’ home and property. My parents
bought out Aunt Bee for a hefty sum and merged the two neighboring properties
while giving her the lifetime right to live in the small house. I hadn’t seen
any of this for years, but as I traveled along the tree-lined drive in my 2002
Acura, memories lurked everywhere. A rope swing I used to play on with my
brother, Ashley, and the cousins. The path I used to run around the lake to Bee’s
house. The tree Bee planted when I was born. I shook my head. I wasn’t going to
get sucked back into this world.

The cottage
came into view and I laughed. Calling it a cottage seemed ridiculous. It would
have been a perfectly nice house for most families, but in the shadow of the
garish mansion it did seem sort of cottage-esque. It had thick stone walls and
a cedar shake roof. Six narrow brick chimneys jutted up toward the sky, three
on each side of the house. It was an old home and had fireplaces in most of the
rooms. Pretty curtains in the windows and cheerful window baskets bursting with
flowers welcomed visitors. Everywhere I looked I found traces of Bee. My eyes
filled with tears, but I pushed them down. I couldn’t cry every time I saw the house.
I was living here now.

I parked near
the door, flipped off the ignition, and sat listening to the silence for a
moment. I hefted my duffle bag out of the trunk and carried it inside, dropping
it in the entrance as I took a deep breath, inhaling the vanilla and rose
scent.

Sunlight
poured through the windows of the living room, and the wood plank walls were
painted bright white. Two white- and kelly green striped loveseats faced each
other, and miscellaneous bits of antique furniture decorated the rest of the
room. Some of Bee’s plants looked droopy so I hunted down her watering tin and
gave them each a drink at lightning speed—I wanted to make it back to the
hospital on time. I was nearly finished when a picture on the dresser caught my
eye: me, Briggs, and our two dogs. We looked so happy. I allowed myself a
wistful moment, which was interrupted by the screen door swinging open.

“Hello,” my
brother’s voice called out.

“Just a sec,”
I shouted back.

My parents
were either cruel or they thought it would show superior breeding to give the
boys in our family feminine names and stick me with a masculine one. I came out
of the kitchen to find Ashley lingering in the doorway. He looked so much older
than when I last saw him. His hair was thinning, his eyes were wrinkled and his
skin was weathered. When did Ashley turn into Gollum? “What’s up, Ash?”

He cleared his
throat and gave me and the house a disapproving once-over. “I thought Mother
told you not to come back.”

“It’s nice to
see you too.”

He ignored me.
“I haven’t been in here since we were kids. Remember how Bee let us use the
attic as a clubhouse?”

I smoothed my
hand over my purposefully torn jeans and tugged the edges of my white tank top
down under the black blazer. “Uh, no. I was probably away at school.” I shook
away the ancient resentment that my parents saw fit to send me to boarding
school but not either of my brothers. “I’m just watering Bee’s plants.” I
shifted my weight to the other foot.

“When did you
get into town?”

“Today.”

“Do Mom and Dad
know?”

“Better
question, do you think they care?”

Ashley shook
his head. “You’re hardly a victim, Ryan.”

“Says the
golden child.” I smiled sweetly and wiped my hands on his suit jacket as I
walked past. “Well, it was great seeing you. I should be going. Lots to do.” I
slipped on my sunglasses and charged to my car. I had almost made a clean
getaway before he strolled behind my car with his arms tucked into his pockets.

“This is
yours?” he asked with a face like the words tasted bad.

“Bought and
paid for.” I patted her on the roof.

“While you’re
here, you are welcome to drive one of my cars.”

“No thanks.”

“Really, Ryan,
we do have a reputation to maintain. I’m the mayor now, if you haven’t heard.
The youngest mayor in Goodson Hollow’s history.” He puffed out his chest
proudly.

“Congratulations.
The stoplight is out at Second and Walnut.” I climbed into my car and started
the engine, but Ashley didn’t take the hint, so I rolled down the window by
hand and looked back at him. “I really have to go. So unless the mayor wants to
get run over, I suggest he moves.”

Ashley eased
away like molasses, but he did get out from behind my car. “I’ll tell Mom you’re
back. She’ll definitely want to know. She might even throw you a welcome home
party. People were beginning to think you don’t actually exist.”

I looked back
at him, meeting his blue eyes that were so similar to my own. “This isn’t my
home, Ash. I’m not here for you guys. I’m here for Bee. No parties necessary.”

“We’ll see,
Ryan.”

I shook my
head as I drove away.

*

The smell of honeysuckle and
jasmine blanketed me as I opened the door to my aunt’s upscale boutique,
Blueberry. Aunt Bee had a wonderful eye for beautiful, quality clothing and
accessories. She managed to stock the best burgeoning designers year after year
without fail. If Bee picked a designer to carry in her store, within two years
that person would make it big.

The store
consisted of three good-sized rooms connected by beautifully crafted archways.
The walls were a vibrant lime green and lined with nearly black framed shelves.
A high-backed loveseat filled the center room, graced by round wooden tables on
either side. A solid, hand-carved mahogany counter lined the back wall of the
center room and held an ancient brass cash register.

I toured each
room, running my fingers over the fine fabrics, picking up and studying this
odd knickknack, that bit of finery …I didn’t know anything about clothes. How
was I going to run this store? I straightened my shoulders. I didn’t have to
know about clothes to sell them—or, better yet, to hire someone to sell them. I
went back into the storeroom/office and found Bee’s laptop. As I picked it up,
the front door chimed.
Damn, I forgot to lock it behind me.

“Hello,”
called out a chipper woman’s voice. “Yoohoo.”

“I’m sorry. We’re
not open,” I said. Then I turned and saw the familiar gray eyes and perfect
bright white teeth of Vivian Golde, my boarding school roommate.

“I heard you
were back in town. I had to see for myself. Ryan Sterling, as I live and
breathe.” Vivian clutched her hands together in front of her—probably to show
off her perfect baby-doll-pink manicure. “You always swore you’d never come
back.”

“Hadn’t
planned on it.” I shifted uncomfortably. I didn’t know what to say to Vivian.
We never had much in common.

“But you’re
here now.” She held her caramel-colored arms open for a hug.

I gave her a
quick, awkward squeeze, still holding on to the laptop. “Nice to see you. We’ll
have to get together sometime, but I really need to get back to the hospital.”

“Oh,” she said
as she patted my arm, “I heard, sweetie. I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I
can do to help…” Vivian scanned the room. “I just adore this store. Do you plan
on opening it soon?”

“As soon as I
can. I need to hire one or two people first. I don’t think I can balance the
store and the hospital.”

She strolled
over to a rack next to one of the tables and picked out a navy blue and coral
striped maxi skirt. “I love this.”

I sighed and
looked pointedly toward the door. There was no time for Vivian to browse.

“I wouldn’t
mind helping out. I live to shop, and I don’t have anything else to do.” She
looked back at me over her shoulder. “That way you don’t even have to interview
other people. I can take care of everything. I’ve been looking for a project since
I came back.”

I was tempted
to ask why she’d returned. Last I heard, Vivian was living the high life,
running around with Hollywood A-listers and rock stars, but I didn’t really
have time to hear what would surely be a long story. “Um, yeah. Maybe. Let me
look at Bee’s finances, and I’ll get back to you.” Vivian gave me her number as
I all but pushed her out the door.

The more I
thought about it on my way back to the hospital, the more I liked the idea.
Vivian didn’t need the money, so I probably wouldn’t have to pay her a lot, and
she was trustworthy—or was when we were in school together, at least. If we
could afford to hire her and another part-time salesclerk, I wouldn’t have to
worry about the store and that would be one problem taken care of.

Being close to
accomplishing something to make Bee’s life easier gave me a sense of control
and took away the free-falling sensation I’d had since I spoke with her on the
phone after my mother called. Bee’s health was out of my hands, but I could
take care of everything else.

Bee wasn’t in her room when I got
back, and her roommate was snoring loudly. I sat in the chair next to Bee’s bed
and looked around her area. It was depressing. She wasn’t allowed to have
flowers or plants so the only color in the drab room was the get well soon
cards she had stacked beside her bed.

I sighed and
the TV in the corner of the room flipped on, blaring. I jumped and scrambled
for the remote on the bedside table. The TV turned off with a click before I
touched a button. My heart beat wildly in my chest.
How on earth did that
happen?
I looked over at Mrs. Simpson, who was still snoring. Maybe she was
lying on her remote. I crept close to her, searching for the telltale cord that
attached the remote to the bed. As I leaned slightly over her, Mrs. Simpson’s
eyes popped open.

“Welcome home,”
she gurgled and gave me putrid smile with yellow snaggleteeth.

I backed away,
holding my hands in front of me. “I think you’re on top of your TV remote.”

Her eyes
closed and a fresh snore rumbled.
What the hell.
My hands were shaking.
I closed the curtain between the two halves of the room and went back to the
window, but I never looked away from the feeble fabric separating me and Mrs.
Simpson. Bee really was sharing a room with a lunatic.
So Simpson was
creepy, so what? She was probably dreaming. And besides, what could a frail old
woman do to hurt me? Pull yourself together, Ryan.

Her “welcome”
was still echoing in my ears when the room’s door opened. I craned my neck to
see. A man who looked to be in his mid-thirties with softly curling dark blond
hair and dark-rimmed glasses came in. I straightened up, relieved someone else
was here. If that was Dr. Sadler, I couldn’t fault Bee’s taste in men. A moment
later he came around the curtain.

He glanced at
the bed before looking at me. “Is Ms. Scott not back yet?”

I shook my
head. “I just got here. I don’t know where she is.”

“Jack Sadler.”
He held out a hand. “You must be Ryan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And I’ve
heard a lot about you.” I shook his hand.

He smiled. “All
good, I hope.”

“So far.” My
shoulders relaxed, and I smiled back at him.

He chuckled. “How
are you adjusting to being back in Goodson Hollow?”

Just how much
had Bee told him about me? “Well, I haven’t been back long, but I think it’s
going to go … slow.”

The door
opened again and Bee was wheeled in. A male nurse helped her into the bed. “You
were quick. I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Bee said after the nurse
left.

“Not long.
Where have you been?”

“They were
running more tests.” She looked over to Dr. Sadler. “Jack, this is my niece,
Ryan Sterling. Ryan, Jack Sadler.”

“We’ve met.” I
sat back in the chair next to the bed.

“You know,
Jack. Ryan hasn’t been here in years. I bet she could use someone to show her
around. Goodson Hollow has changed a lot since she left.”

My cheeks grew
warm. I pursed my lips and looked at well-meaning Bee. “If I need help, I’ll
ask Ashley. He’s the mayor, after all. I’m sure Dr. Sadler has better things to
do. Things like making you well again.”

She made a
sound suggesting my comment was absurd. Dr. Sadler looked up from his chart and
smiled. “How are you feeling today, Bee?”

“Oh, fine,
fine.”

He nodded and
lifted the bottom of the blanket to check the swelling in her legs, asking a
series of questions and making notes.

“You should
have Ryan take you on little walks periodically—and try to sit up as much as
you can.” Dr. Sadler turned back to me. “It was nice to finally meet you, Ryan.”

“You too.”

When Dr.
Sadler left the room, I covered my face with my hands. How embarrassing.

“He probably
would’ve asked you out had you not thrown your brother in his face,” Bee said
with a yawn.

“Who says I
want that?”

“You aren’t
blind or dead, Ryan. Of course you want to go out with him.” Bee’s eyes were
closing, so I didn’t keep arguing. Instead, I picked up her laptop and flipped
it on.