The Executive Page 13

  It was a long drive to work and an even longer day getting through her shift at Rossi’s. Add to that, the three painful phone conversations with her brothers during her late dinner break.

  They weren’t too happy about the late-night call, but they didn’t say much. Her brothers often didn’t. Especially when it came to difficult topics.

  Kira could hear her brother’s children playing in the background, the voices of their wives preparing dinner, scolding. The usual family antics.

  Her eyes burned with homesickness. Her nieces and nephews were growing up too fast. Despite the occasional call and Skype visit, she wasn’t a part of their lives in any meaningful way. Who had money to fly across the country? Or the time off?

  Carl finally said, “I have some comp time coming. I’ll use that to come out and help you figure out therapy and meds with Mom and Dad.”

  “But what do we do when she can’t take care of Dad, let alone herself? What if she burns the house down some night forgetting to turn off the gas stove?”

  “Relax, Sis, it’ll be okay.”

  “I think Mom’s been hiding it for a while. Now that I think back over the last few months, she’s said and done some weird stuff. Nothing huge, but the signs were there. They can’t afford to hire help or a live-in, and neither can we.”

  “So maybe we have to put her in a hospital.”

  “That’s cold, Carl.” Her eldest brother could be so aloof. “You can’t separate them and Dad needs help, too. It’s a slow degenerating disease. She won’t need live-in care for a long time to come.”

  “I’ll let you know when my flight is next week. Meanwhile, read the doctor’s paperwork, send a copy to each of us, and set up appointments so I can make good use of my time while I’m there.”

  Kira stuck her tongue out at the phone. As if her time wasn’t as important as his. Carl had one valid point. She couldn’t do anything until the packet of materials arrived from Dr. Walton and she researched some therapists and treatments.

  Grabbing a bite to eat at a drive-through burger joint, Kira stopped in at her parent’s home to check on them. While her mother was in the bathroom dressing for bed, Kira relayed the news from Doctor Walton.

  His gray head slowly nodded when she told him about the blood test results and a few of Mom’s “quirks” that day of the doctor visit.

  His hands clasped together, and his brow deepened with wrinkles. Kira’s heart ached to see how dramatically her father had aged in the last couple of years.

  Her father’s early morning jogging routine gone. Gardening gone. Playing tennis gone. His career over. Plans for retirement and traveling with Mom gone. What use was a bucket list when you could barely get around the house or dress yourself?

  Gazing into his face, Kira could see the gears in his mind going. Then she was thunderstruck by a sudden realization. “I know why you stopped getting together with your friends to play cards and drink beer,” she accused him, gripping the armrest of the wheelchair. “Because of Mom. You stay home because you’re worried. You’ve been worried and didn’t breathe a word.”

  He gave a half smile, guilty, as if he’d been caught. “You’re too smart for your own good, my girl.”

  “But Dad, this—this—” Kira waved her hands around the tiny, run-down house. After their big, beautiful home in a nice suburb, it had never gotten easier seeing her parents living here after losing the family home to foreclosure and bankruptcy caused by medical bills and the loss of her father’s job.

  “Hey, I love your mother with everything that makes me a man.” He spoke quietly, but his words were forceful. “I can give up poker games for her. It’s not that hard.”

  “But you’ve already given up so much.”

  “I can’t leave Claire here alone. If she got hurt, I’d never forgive myself.”

  Kira’s voice was shaky. “I understand, Dad. And I love you. I hope one day I can find someone just like you.”

  He chuckled at that. “Be careful what you wish for, my girl.”

  She waved that away, hearing her mother coming down the hall. “Carl’s coming as soon as I can get the paperwork and appointments set up.”

  “Any chance he can throw one of those grand-babies into his suitcase?”

  That was another wound in her parent’s lives. Her dad had loved whooping it up with her brother’s children. Wrestling. Making Cub Scout Pinewood Derby cars. Taking them to Disneyland. Picnics in the mountains where a wheelchair had no access.

  Gone in a thirty second semi-truck crash.

  “It’s not fair,” Kira said. She sounded like a petulant child, but she couldn’t help it.

  Her father’s hand reached out to squeeze hers, and then he planted a kiss on the back of her knuckles. “I have no regrets. I’ve had a good life, my girl. And you are one of the very best parts of it.”

  “Oh, Dad,” Kira said, biting back tears.

  Later that night, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep, going over the doctor’s conversation and the one with her father as if it was on permanent rewind.

  Chapter 17

  The poor night showed the next morning when she hung over the sink splashing water on her bleary face. Her cheeks had wrinkle marks, a sign that she’d mashed her face into her pillow all night long.

  “Go away, wrinkles,” Kira ordered the mirror. “I have a date in case you didn’t know it.”

  A date. That was the first time she’d thought of it like that. It was true. Caleb had asked her out and she’d accepted. She hadn’t turned him down, despite the fact that she’d made him work for it.

  After putting on her best fitting jeans and the forest green sweater that curved along her waist and hips, Kira pulled on her knee-high brown boots, the nicest ones she owned.

  The last thing she put on before tying her winter scarf in a pretty knot around her neck was her red necklace, double checking the clasp.

  From now on, wearing her grandmother’s necklace was going to give her the heebie-jeebies worrying that she’d lose it again. Maybe she should just keep it in her jewelry box and admire it from afar.

  Eleven o’clock came and went and no Caleb Davenport.

  Kira checked her texts. He’d said he would pick her up at eleven.

  She turned on the TV. Nothing but Saturday morning cartoons and sports.

  At 11:35, she shed her scarf in the warm apartment. Her phone showed no messages. Had she gotten the day wrong? But no, their text messages earlier this week was for this Saturday. It was a decent Saturday for November. Not terribly cold and the sun was shining.

  Where was he?

  Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Kira peered through the peep hole. It was Caleb. She threw open the door.

  He was breathing hard, as if he’d run up the three flights of stairs.

  “Yes?” she said, placing one hand on her hip.

  He ran a hand through his thick, dark brown hair. “Kira, I’m so sorry.”

  “Did you forget?”

  “No! Of course not. I’ve been counting down the hours until today.”

  She suppressed a smile. He sounded like a kid. “Then I think you miscounted your hours.”

  “I swear I can count,” he said, attempting a smile. “I had to—go somewhere this morning and the time didn’t work. I had to wait—” he broke off, fumbling over his words, obviously not wanting to tell her what he’d had been doing.

  She stared at him, waiting for the good part. It didn’t come.

  “All I can say is that I’m sorry. It’s rare that I’m late. I promise. I—I had to depend on somebody else this morning, but that probably isn’t a good excuse.”

  She didn’t respond. Why didn’t he just tell her where he’d been?

  Caleb’s expression fell. A frown creased his forehead. “You’ll still come, won’t you?”

  “Yes,” she finally answered, trying not to sound too grudging or suspicious. She certainly wasn’t going to invite him inside either, because her low-income life was to
o painfully obvious.

  Relief swept over his face and then Kira went to retrieve her purse and coat.

  At the top of the concrete stairs that led to the parking lot, Caleb reached out to take her hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves and she had stuffed hers into her handbag earlier. The strength and size of his hand enveloped hers in a protective warmth that sent shivers down her spine.

  Why did she have this reaction to him every single time? She’d half hoped that the reaction at the reunion was all a fluke and she could forget Caleb Davenport. But it wasn’t happening.

  “By the way, Kira, you look fantastic,” he told her now as they crossed the apartment lot, his eyes resting on her appreciatively.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” she said, giving him a teasing smile.

  He opened the door to a red Lexus and Kira slid inside, eyes widening at the vehicle’s luxury. The Lexus smelled freshly waxed and cleaned, the soft leather seats releasing a lemony scent. The plush carpet to the state-of-the-art electronic system was a little intimidating.

  “All your gadgets and touch screens are confusing,” Kira said, watching him maneuver it all in stride while the vehicle rolled smoothly out of the parking lot.

  Caleb shrugged, and Kira sensed a tinge of embarrassment. “The old days of using a crank handle to open the windows, or the outside air as the AC are gone, aren’t they?”

  “GPS replaced maps and now Google has been replaced by a call navigation company giving me live directions.”

  They made small talk while Caleb made the turns to the freeway. When he asked about her parents, Kira was purposely vague. She wasn’t ready to confide her mother’s diagnosis of dementia.

  She didn’t want him to know about their dismal existence, the worry over an uncertain future, or her selfish, annoying brothers.

  Two conflicting thoughts clashed in her mind. Was she embarrassed by her family? That made her feel guilty and unappreciative of her parents.

  Second, did she have any room to complain about Caleb keeping parts of his life a secret when she wouldn’t share her own? Obviously, this budding, new relationship had a long way to go.

  When Caleb turned off onto Highway 6 and headed west out of town, they soon were out of the city and into the forested hills. So quickly, it was like entering a new world.

  His sumptuous vehicle was nothing compared to the property he turned onto twenty minutes later. Kira leaned forward to stare out the windshield. The gravel drive twisted through tall pines and manicured shrubbery for half a mile.

  She turned to Caleb, who was smiling in the driver’s seat, and maneuvering the vehicle at no more than ten miles an hour along the country road. “Where are we?”

  “We’re having a picnic, like I told you.”

  “This looks like private property.”

  “It is. There’s a home up ahead but there’s so much acreage that the owner turned a couple of those acres into a park. Ah, here we are.”

  He curved around the last turn and Kira couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping out of her mouth. They had reached a crest of a hill and down below was the most magnificent home she’d ever seen. “That’s not a house, that’s a mansion.”

  Caleb shrugged. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Obviously, you haven’t watched British Masterpiece Theatre.”

  Caleb laughed and turned the wheel of the car, cruising down the remaining road toward the elegant stone house. Emerald lawns dotted with patches of old snow stretched all the way up to a curving driveway before the massive front doors.

  Kira could imagine carriages and horses driving up past the main gates and elegant ladies stepping out when the footman held open the door and pulled down a narrow set of steps for her to use.

  The butler and his staff would have lined along the drive to greet the guests. Glittering gowns sweeping their trains along the paving while men in tuxedos held out their arms to escort the women. Lighted lamps strung along the drive, creating a golden glow under the stars.

  “Kira, are you okay?”

  Caleb’s voice broke into her reverie and she jumped, whipping around to stare at him.

  “Yes—yes, I’m fine. Just imagining this place a hundred and fifty years ago.”

  “Actually, it’s only a hundred and ten years old.”

  “Oh. Right.” Kira gave a self-effacing laugh. “You caught me daydreaming. This property looks like it’s been plucked out of the English countryside and plopped down right here, complete with lush lawns, prim flower boxes, and luxurious patios. Even the trees look older than ten years.”

  Caleb turned the Lexus into the driveway, passing the front doors to continue on to the rear gardens. “When you have enough money, you can get more mature trees so your house doesn’t look brand spanking new. But there’s probably sawdust still sitting in the corners if you look hard enough, but that’s from a more recent remodel.”

  She laughed and Caleb parked the car in an unmarked space wide enough for about five vehicles. Beyond the lot lay the wooded park he’d spoken of. Thick, rolling grass, soft as down and covered with a light dusting of snow from the previous snowfall.

  “Now those pines and aspen are older than ten years. What’s beyond the trees?”

  “If you walk about five minutes from here the woods border a small creek. The house was planned around the woods and the creek.”

  In front of them lay a more manicured garden; brown rose trellises and geometric brick patterns for the paving walkways. Tables and benches lay in intimate positions next to a small pond with a fountain that would likely spray a fine mist during the warmer months of the year.

  Kira gave a sigh of pleasure. “It’s absolutely beautiful. I’ve never been this close to a home that was so magnificent. Washington Park or the homes around Cheesman Park don’t hold a candle to this property. It’s a small palace with those broad stairs and balustrades. Curved windows and heavy drapes.”

  “I’m so glad you like it.” The relief in Caleb’s voice was unmistakable.

  Kira peered up at him through her lashes, cupping a hand over her brow against the noon sun. “Are you sure you don’t have any investment in this place? You promised me honesty.”

  “I did. Come on, let’s sit down first.”

  “I forgot blankets,” Kira suddenly said.

  “I brought some just in case.” Caleb popped the trunk and began pulling out a stack of wool blankets in checkered patterns, a hamper of food, and a jug of water. A second hamper was filled with real plates, silverware, and wine glasses.

  Kira’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m impressed, Mr. Davenport.”

  “Do I get extra brownie points today?”

  “We’ll see,” she said vaguely, but when Caleb narrowed his eyes at her, she added a teasing laugh and picked up the jug of water to carry.

  Caleb held the two hampers in either hand, leading the way across the lawns and down a slope into a small ravine. The house was still in view, but not quite as close.

  “Please tell me nobody is at home and watching us from those windows.”

  “We’re perfectly alone.”

  “Hmm.” Kira didn’t know how he could know that absolutely.

  “And I am a perfect gentleman, Miss Kira Bancroft,” he added.

  Together they shook out two blankets and laid them down. Then Kira unpacked the hampers to set out the eating utensils. “I’m starving,” she admitted. “I didn’t eat breakfast.”

  “Why not?”

  “Bad night’s sleep. Too much on my mind to eat. So I kind of forgot. Isn’t that silly?” She didn’t want to admit that she’d spent more time getting ready for their picnic date than she probably should have.

  “Sorry to hear that. What’s on your mind?”

  The forks and spoons clinked together while Kira unfolded crème-colored napkins. There was crispy, fresh fried chicken, coleslaw and fruit salad, veggies and a container with ranch dressing for dipping, and finally several plastic-wrapped brownies, thick with chocolate
chips and frosting.

  Kira said, “I think there’s ten thousand calories here.”

  “You never answered my question,” Caleb reminded her, stretching out on his side, one elbow propped under him so he could gaze at her.

  “It’s just . . . my parents, Caleb. My mother isn’t doing very well. I—I can’t talk about it right now. I don’t want to spoil this wonderful food and this beautiful day.”

  “But you can’t enjoy yourself when you’re worried and distracted. I was hoping I could take you away from the normal grind. I certainly need to get away sometimes and it doesn’t happen nearly often enough.”

  She wrapped her arms around her knees. “Let’s eat lunch since I’m famished and I’ll let you know if I want to talk later.”

  “Deal. I think I can hear your stomach grumbling.”

  “No, that’s yours, Mr. Davenport,” she shot back, although he was correct.

  “Very astute, Miss Bancroft.”

  Kira gave a sigh, gazing around the property in a happy state of appreciation for its beauty and peacefulness. “I think I could sit here all day.”

  Unwrapping the food, they filled their plates and ate, listening to the water in the creek below the hill rushing along the rocks and boulders.

  “The chicken is delicious. Who made it?”

  “I did. I have a really good kitchen. Great frying pans.”

  She finished off a piece and reached for another thigh. “I adore the dark meat, and the dark meat adores my hips, but I’m too hungry to stop.”

  “You have perfect hips,” Caleb said nonchalantly.

  “I’m wearing my best jeans and they hide a multitude of sins.”

  “Then you have perfect sins.”

  “You’re impossible! Do you always compliment girls like this?”

  “No.” Caleb’s face turned red and Kira suspected that he turned around to reach for the coleslaw and bowl of watermelon chunks to cover it up. “Most of the women I know are the sisters of the DREAMS guys. Or acquaintances at business meetings. I’ve been waiting to find the girl with the red necklace for too long.”