The Executive Page 12

  Taking a breath, she lifted her eyes to his dazzling pair of silvery blue ones. “Why don’t you take me downstairs for that drink now?”

  Chapter 15

  The following week Kira took her mother to her doctor appointment. Doctor Walton performed a physical, ordered blood tests, and had her mother fill out a lengthy questionnaire with questions running the gamut on her daily routine, hobbies, interests, frustrations, including the detailed care her invalid husband needed.

  After two hours of being shuttled to various exam rooms and the “testing” room to answer the questionnaire, plus a lab request, the doctor perched on the edge of a chair and leaned forward. “Once you get your lab work done, we’ll have results to you in about a week.”

  Mrs. Bancroft laughed nervously. “Kira seems to think I’m losing my memory.”

  Kira gave the doctor a sheepish smile and shrugged her shoulders.

  Doctor Walton leaned back on a stool, her expression focused, and concern in her eyes. “Your daughter just wants you to be healthy when you have such a burden caring for your husband.”

  “He’s not a burden! Whoever put that idea into your head? Kira, did you tell him that?”

  “I did not, Mom. But you’ve had a stressful couple of years and you need a break. There are respite centers that can take Dad for a few days and give you a break.”

  “I’m not sending him to any ‘center’,” her mother said indignantly.

  “Perhaps I can stay with Dad and you can go visit Aunt Sharon for a few days.”

  “Sharon lives two states away. I won’t leave your father for that long. Besides, you have your job and life. And you promised me you’d take up your piano more seriously again.”

  “I still play,” Kira said lamely, not wanting to have this conversation in front of the doctor.

  “I hate to see you give up your dream just for me and your father.”

  “Things were so bad after the accident, there was no other alternative. All my brothers have wives and children to provide for.”

  Her mother grew teary-eyed and pulled out a tissue. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I start weeping at the silliest times.”

  “It’s understandable,” the doctor said soothingly. “How often does it happen lately?”

  “A few times a day.”

  “A few times a day?” Kira burst out. “That’s a lot.”

  Doctor Walton flicked her eyes toward Kira and back to her mother. “Frequent emotion is definitely a sign of feeling overwhelmed. It’s been a long hard road for both you and your husband. Now let’s talk again after we get the blood test results. Meanwhile, if you have any questions, please contact me.”

  “We will Doctor,” Kira assured the woman.

  Mrs. Bancroft rose from her chair and gave the doctor a sudden, quizzical stare. She reached out and lightly touched the name tag on the white doctor’s coat. “Gemma Walton?” she said. “Is this the first time we’ve met?”

  Kira tried not to let her shock show. It was like her mother had suddenly blanked out for a moment.

  Dr. Walton put an arm around Mrs. Bancroft’s shoulders. “Right now, the doctor orders a nap every day. While your husband is busy watching his favorite television program, or working on his plants.”

  “But he might cut himself with the tools he uses.”

  “He’s perfectly capable at his gardening. I’ve even seen his famous bonsai trees.”

  “You have?” Kira’s mother was visibly shocked. “How would you even know?”

  “He invited me to one of his bonsai competitions and I attended with my husband who was researching them at the time for his book on Japanese culture.”

  Mrs. Bancroft shook her head. “I think you’re mistaking him for someone else.”

  “I’m sorry,” mouthed Kira to the doctor.

  Doctor Walton shook her head, a disarming smile on her face. “Not to worry. I think that incorporating a daily rest hour and a trip to visit family would do your mother a world of good.”

  “I’ll try to make it happen,” Kira assured her. “Please call if there’s anything unusual in the test results,” she added under her breath as they left the exam room and headed to the waiting room.

  “Don’t worry too soon, Kira,” she said. “Take care now.”

  Kira herded her mother to the parking lot.

  “I don’t see our car,” her mother said.

  “We’re standing in front of it,” Kira said, punching the button to unlock the doors.

  “This isn’t my car.”

  “You’re right. That’s because it’s mine.”

  Her mother laughed and slid into the front seat. “Can we go to Village Inn for lunch now? I’m starving.”

  Kira stared at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘I’m starving’ before. You always told me it was un-ladylike.”

  “Well, I guess I am now,” her mother said shortly, clutching her purse to her chest.

  “Don’t forget your seatbelt,” Kira reminded her. “And I don’t recall you ever wanting to go to Village Inn. You prefer Sweet Marie’s for their pastry menu, although the two restaurants are pretty similar.”

  “I saw a commercial where Village Inn has free pie Wednesdays now.”

  “True,” Kira admitted as she pulled into traffic.

  “It is Wednesday, isn’t it?” her mother said tartly.

  “It is. You’re exactly right.”

  While she drove down 16th Street back to Speer and the freeway, Kira was glad the restaurant was on the way home. She hated to leave Dad with their neighbor for too long. They’d already been gone close to three hours with travel time. “We’ll bring Dad some pie, too.”

  “His favorite is pumpkin.”

  “No, it’s actually pecan.”

  “I think I know what my husband likes better than you do, Miss Smarty Pants.”

  Kira continued driving, her trepidation rising. They couldn’t get to the TRICOR Lab soon enough to stick a needle into her mother’s arm and fill those vials of blood for testing.

  Her nagging worry was growing, not diminishing. What was happening to her mother? The future was suddenly looking much bleaker.

  By the time they finished the lab work, ate lunch, and she’d deposited her mother at home, Kira was strung out and exhausted herself. She had to be at work in an hour. But first, she forced her mother to lie down while she told her father about the doctor visit.

  Running home, she changed into a clean uniform and quickly sorted through her mail.

  Her phone buzzed with a text. It was Caleb. Seeing his name come up was like a welcome relief after the difficult day with her mother at the doctor’s office.

  Thinking of him brought back the night of the concert last Friday, too.

  Every day, Kira had relived the thrill of seeing Celeste Delorios perform. When the pianist came out on stage to thunderous applause, her breath had caught in excitement, and Caleb gave a soft chuckle at her reaction.

  “I haven’t seen a live performance in years, so be quiet,” she’d hissed at him, refraining from swatting his arm at his teasing.

  Miss Delorios had been a regal woman that night five days ago. Her skin pale, the glittering evening gown glamorous, and her midnight black hair pulled into an elaborate chignon. Like an actress straight out of the 1940s, she was elegant and beautiful.

  Best of all, the pianist was a sensation. She’d played a concerto with the orchestra that was spectacular and moving, followed by a fifteen-minute solo, haunting, daring, explosive, and then melodic and sweet and mournful until the last final, crashing chord.

  The applause had gone on forever. Three curtain calls. Celeste Delorios bowed repeatedly, shaking hands with the orchestra director, laughing at something he said, her head thrown back, showing off her slender neck.

  Kira wished she could be a mouse in her pocket, watching those hands move with such finesse, grace, and strength. “Such a talent,” she ‘d sighed at the end, her hands hurting
from clapping so much.

  All at once, Caleb had brushed his arm against hers and leaned in close. Gently, he wiped the back of his finger under Kira’s eyes. That’s when she realized her emotions were spilling over from the stupendous evening.

  “Are you okay, Kira?” he asked quietly. “It was quite a performance.”

  She’d been embarrassed to have Caleb see her tears before she could wipe them away. “I can’t even describe how I feel. What a thrill to watch her coax such incredible music and skill from the piano. It was both vibrant and melancholy.”

  “I agree with every word.” Caleb gathered his overcoat and then retrieved Kira’s coat where it had slipped down the back of her chair.

  The crowd was dispersing, filing out row by row, seats emptying, ushers picking up programs from the floor. It didn’t take long before the theatre was nearly empty.

  Caleb held up Kira’s coat and she put her arms through her sleeves, wrapping her scarf around her neck. “Celeste Delorios was certainly worth every penny,” he added.

  Kira whirled to face him. “Oh, goodness, I owe you the cost of the ticket.”

  “No, you don’t. I actually got them from a friend who had to go out of town. Since I once saw Miss Delorios in Italy, I was eager to see her again live.”

  Kira grabbed at his tie, taking a step forward in indignation. “I told you never to lie to me, Mr. Davenport. I think you bought these tickets and then pretended they came from someone else to get me to go with you. Admit it.”

  Caleb let out a yelp, putting his hands up in a mock show of horror.

  They froze, inches apart, and Kira gazed at him, her fist tightly wound around his tie as she scolded him. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t breathe. His lips were so close, so perfectly shaped. Her mind whirled with incoherent thoughts. She wanted so badly to know what his lips felt like.

  Caleb gazed back at her, his beautiful eyes unblinking, his hair boyishly falling over his forehead.

  “I—I—” he stuttered, his hand reaching up to hold hers in place on his tie, as if he didn’t want her to move away from him. “I plead the fifth?”

  It was so refreshing to see him stammer. So unlike the cool, calm man she usually saw, that Kira felt her mouth quirk up into a grin.

  “Yes, Adam had them, but I knew you’d like to go so I volunteered to take them off his hands. I didn’t plan all this ahead of time, I promise.” His voice turned soft and husky as he bent his face toward hers. “To heck with this, Kira—” he broke off and his arms went around her, gathering her close.

  Before she could speak or protest, Caleb’s lips were on hers, kissing her. And yes, his lips were soft, and warm, and oh, so delicious. It didn’t help that the musky, pomegranate cologne he wore made her head swim.

  Before she had left for the concert, Kira had admonished herself that if Caleb tried to kiss her, she would resist. He didn’t deserve it. He had to work for it, he had to earn it. In fact, he may never have the privilege of kissing her. And here she was, swooning into his arms.

  His lips pressed against hers, hungrily, tasting her.

  Kira held her breath, telling herself she should break away, but wanting him to keep kissing her forever. Stars exploded behind her eyes . . .

  “The lights are flashing,” Caleb finally murmured against her mouth. “I think they want us to leave.”

  Kira’s eyes snapped open. She broke away, trying not to breathe too hard. Trying hard to hide what his kiss had done to her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been kissed like that before in her life.

  “Oh, Kira,” Caleb whispered as he held her, his cheek pressed against hers.

  She tried not to melt into him and start kissing him again, but it was difficult to pull away; to straighten her scarf, pick up her handbag, stuff her program into the side pocket. Knowing she would relive each piece of music in her head when she tried to go to sleep later—including these moments when Caleb had kissed her.

  “This way,” an usher said, appearing out of the dusky hall. “There’s an Exit over there,” she directed, pointing a flashlight toward the neon green sign, as if she could tell Caleb and Kira had gone blind from passion.

  Laughing now at the memory of being caught kissing in the empty theatre, Kira sank back into the armchair and opened Caleb’s text. He’d texted her every night, asking for a repeat of the concert five days ago. And every day she’d refused.

  And then she’d relive the kiss and wonder why she was refusing.

  That kiss—it had come out of nowhere—and everywhere. Unexpected, but more badly desired than she had ever expected.

  Her phone beeped at her again.

  Caleb: Kira, are you there?

  Kira: Yes, I’m here.

  Caleb: Is it a bad time?

  Kira: Yes—no. I don’t know.

  Caleb: You’re killing me, my sweet.

  Kira. I’m not yours . . . at least not yet.

  Caleb: Then there’s hope! Hope springs eternal. It’s an old saying . . . in case you didn’t know.

  She laughed, which suddenly felt so much better than crying.

  Kira: What am I going to do with you?

  Caleb: Let me show you who I am. Let me give you a gift.

  Kira: You are NOT spending money on me!

  Caleb: I wasn’t proposing anything to do with filthy lucre. It’s sort of a surprise. Will you give me a chance to surprise you? You’ll like it. In fact, you’ll love it.

  Kira: I admit that you do have me curious.

  Caleb: Curiosity is good. I propose a picnic this Saturday. I know this old park outside of town next to this really great house. Great views of the mountains. And a lake.

  Kira: A picnic, huh?

  Caleb: I’ll bring the food.

  Kira: What should I bring?

  Caleb: Just yourself.

  Kira: But it’s November. It’s cold.

  Caleb: Be adventurous. Trust me.

  “Oh, Caleb,” Kira sighed. “Can I trust you?”

  Kira: I’ll bring blankets—but ONLY FOR SITTING ON.

  Caleb: I’ll pick you up at eleven, then.

  Kira: Promise me no kissing!

  Caleb: You drive a hard bargain, but I promise I will be a perfect gentleman.

  Chapter 16

  On Friday, Kira was on her way out the door to work when a strange number came up on her phone. She hesitated, and then answered it, shrugging on her coat and searching through her purse for her car keys.

  “Kira Bancroft, please,” said a female voice.

  “This is Kira.”

  “Oh, good, I caught you. This is Gemma Walton from Denver Health Partners.”

  Kira let out a noise of surprise. “Oh, Doctor Walton, thanks for calling.”

  “I was going to call your father, but I hesitated, not knowing how he’ll take the news I need to share with you.”

  Kira’s heart dropped to the floor. “This doesn’t sound good,” the words tumbled out. “I can relay anything to my parents if you think that’s best.”

  “I would normally go straight to the patient, but I’ve known you since your first stitches, and the fact that you accompanied your mother last week during her appointment—” the doctor broke off and Kira could hear papers shuffling in the background. “After your father’s accident, your parents signed the form that allows me to discuss their health issues with you.”

  “I’m the only one of their children who lives locally.” Bracing herself, Kira added, “I’m ready, doctor. It’s not good news, is it?”

  “Your mother is showing signs of early dementia.”

  “Is that Alzheimer’s?”

  “Not exactly, but it can be a form of it, and often an early symptom of Alzheimer’s. I don’t want you to be alarmed because there are new medicines all the time and new forms of life skills and rehabilitation therapies.”

  “How can I not be alarmed? How in the world will my mother care for my father?”

  “You have older brothers, Kira. I suggest you
connect with them and create a family plan for the short term. And another plan for long-term. It will be helpful for all of you.”

  “So did this show up in the blood tests, or something else?”

  “The blood work plus her written SAGE evaluation was pretty conclusive. And then there was the small episode your mother had in the office as you were leaving. That told me a lot right there.”

  “I know,” Kira said with a long, drawn-out sigh. “She got worse on the way to lunch. But once we’d ordered our food she was fine again.”

  “In the early stages, it can definitely come and go. All the time. Dementia progresses slowly, too. Which gives you time to prepare and plan for the future.”

  “I guess that’s heartening.” Kira tried to swallow past her dry throat. “But she’s only sixty-five.”

  “Unfortunately, we sometimes see it even earlier than that.”

  “I don’t even know what to say. Do you need to see her again?”

  “I’d like to recommend an evaluation by a clinical behavioral doctor who can recommend medication and knows the programs here in Denver that assists families through this.”

  “She’s going to fight the diagnosis,” Kira said softly. “She insists there’s nothing wrong.”

  “Would you like someone with you when you tell her? I can do a referral for a counselor.”

  “I’ll call my oldest brother and see if he can come out for a few days.”

  “Please stay in touch and let me know how I can help. I’ve been your family’s primary care doctor for a long time. My nurse will contact you on Monday and we’ll be sending out some materials to read.”

  “Thank you, Doctor Walton.”

  Kira hung up and glanced at the time, but the numbers on the kitchen clock blurred. Then she realized that she was now late to work. A Friday but she was doing the lunch shift today.

  On the way out the door she accidentally dropped her keys. After she picked them up, her gloves fell to the floor. Blinded by the tears swimming behind her eyes, Kira tried to scoop up her gloves and failed. And then she dropped her composure and burst into tears.