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That brought a smile to Golden’s lips. “Oh, you’re so kind. I’ll think about it, okay?” Of course, she would think about no such thing, not a gift or even a loan from Claire. She’d never relied on anyone to solve her problems and she was not about to start now.
Knowing how tenacious the older woman could be Golden grabbed for the one thing she knew would throw her friend off track and wipe the money issue clean from her mind. “By the way, what would you say if I told you I’d like to help you reunite with your daughter? What if I took her a message from you?”
“I’d say leave well enough alone, child. This doesn’t concern you.”
“Oh, but it does. If you’re not happy then how can I be happy?”
“And who says I’m not happy?”
“Nobody but sometimes you look...like you miss her.” Golden regarded Claire’s face that had now turned serious. “Don’t you?”
“No, I don’t,” Claire said, her voice overly firm. She wasn’t fooling anybody, though.
Golden sighed. She would tackle this another time. She reached for her handbag and stood up. “I’ve got to go now, Claire.”
“I know, my dear. It was nice of you to drop in.”
Golden smiled. “It was my pleasure.” She leaned down to kiss Claire on the forehead. As she walked toward the door she gave her a wave of goodbye. “Give my love to your tea-time crew.”
“I will. And you know I’ll be telling them about the date.”
Golden could only laugh as Claire’s laughter followed her down the hallway.
CHAPTER TEN
The next couple of days were extra busy for Golden. She didn’t know if Reed was piling on the work to distract them from thinking about the upcoming event or if he was genuinely trying to kill her with work because he’d changed his mind and was trying to get out of the date. Whatever his reason, he made sure she was swamped all day Thursday and Friday.
It was with a sigh of relief that she shut down her computer at five-thirty that Friday and cleared the papers from her desk. She was just swiveling around in the chair, getting ready to rise, when Reed’s head popped around the door.
“Remember to leave me that address,” he said, giving her a surprisingly boyish grin. It brightened his face, reminding her of how young he was.
“I remember,” she said. “The address and directions are right here.” She slid the paper off the top of her desk, got up and walked over to him. She stopped when she was still three or four feet away and stretched out her hand. “Here you go.”
He lifted an eyebrow, a look of amusement on his face but to her relief he simply reached out to take the paper from her nervous fingers. “Thank you,” he said as his eyes skimmed her face which she was sure was pink from her flustered state. “See you tomorrow at six, then?”
“Yes, tomorrow,” she said with a quick nod then stepped back, escaping to a safe distance. “Have...have a good weekend.” She grabbed her bag and made a speedy exit, breathing easy only when she’d reached the end of the hallway and had pressed the button for the elevator. He was probably back there in the office laughing at her. She’d run like a frightened rabbit but she couldn’t help it. Being so close, he scared her. Heaven knew how she was going to manage when he picked her up for their date.
After a fitful sleep Friday night Golden got up early that Saturday morning, intent on slipping out of the house before the others got up. She had a lot to do before her date that evening and she wanted no surprise requests or demands to mess up her plans for the day. Claire hated her dress so she planned to scour every bargain store within a twenty-mile radius until she’d found an outfit she would be proud of.
Her first stop yielded disappointing results. The clothes were dirt-cheap, exactly in keeping with what her budget could manage, but not surprisingly they were hellishly ugly. She left that first store, a slight cloud of depression beginning to gather, and headed down to Cheshire Street. She would definitely find something there. But she didn’t. The only dresses she liked did not fit into her budget at all.
Her depression growing by the minute she headed out to the next store on the list. No luck there so she headed to the next. Then the next. By this time it was past noon and the tiny cloud of depression that had been following her around all morning was now a billowing gray mass that was almost blocking out the sun. The day was sunny and bright. It should have been a lovely day for her but how could it be when she was going to end up going out with her fantasy prince looking like a dowdy old dowager?
She’d just dragged herself back to her car and was piling into the seat when her cell phone began to buzz in her handbag.
An involuntary groan escaped her lips. Please, make it not be Mother. There was one more store she wanted to check and she just hoped she wasn’t being summoned home early. Although it was looking less likely with each passing minute she still had her fingers crossed that she would find a nice enough dress before her date showed up at the door.
Grumbling, Golden dug her phone out of the bag and jammed it to her ear. “Yes?” Her tone was less than friendly but she just wanted to hear what the problem was this time and then get on with her day. Time was flying fast and she didn’t have the luxury of a leisurely chat on the phone.
“Golden? Golden Browne?”
The voice on the other end of the line was unfamiliar, making Golden frown. “Yes? This is she.”
“This is Sara O’Toole from Sunnybrook Nursing Home. I was asked to get an urgent message to you.”
Golden’s heart lurched and she gripped the phone tighter. “Yes? What is it? Is Claire...ill?”
“I can’t say at the moment.” The woman’s voice was brusque and emotionless, making it impossible to read anything from her tone. “I was only told to ask you to come to the home as soon as possible. It’s in regards to Claire Bertlamb. May I tell them you’re on your way?”
“Y...yes. Yes, of course. I’ll come right away. But what’s going on? Did Claire-” Golden didn’t get the chance to say another word. Midsentence she heard the click that told her the woman had hung up.
Brows knitted in consternation she started the car, backed out of her parking spot and set off on her way to the nursing home, all thoughts of dresses and dates and handsome princes knocked out of her head.
“Claire, please be all right,” she whispered as she raced toward the nursing home. “I can’t afford to lose you.”
She screeched into the parking space and ran into the building. As she signed in her hand trembled, she was so anxious. She hardly even returned the receptionist’s welcoming smile, dashing off toward the elevator as soon as she’d scrawled her name in the register. “Come on, come on,” she muttered, wondering if the elevator had always been this slow. When it finally opened she barged in, almost barreling into an elderly couple who were exiting the lift. “So sorry,” she mumbled, too distracted to pay much attention to them after that.
When the doors finally opened on the third floor, Golden tore down the hallway, not slowing until she got to Claire’s door. Heart pounding she tapped on the door, listening for Claire’s usual command to enter.
And then she heard it. Claire’s voice – sharp and strong and imperious. It was like the sweetest music in Golden’s ears. She sagged with relief. It sounded like Claire was just fine.
Quickly, she pushed the door open and stepped in. “Claire,” she said then stopped. There was no-one in the bed, no-one in the armchair by the window. But she’d just heard Claire’s voice. Had it been her imagination?
She looked around the room and that was when she noticed that the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar. That had to be where Claire was. And then her eyes flew back to something unusual, a big pink box lying in the middle of the bed, a smaller white box on top of it.
Golden raised her eyebrows. It looked like Claire was on the receiving end of some gifts. She put a finger to her lips, thinking. Had she missed her birthday? But no, that was not until December fifteen. This must be for something else.
“Claire?” she said again, glancing toward the bathroom door. She didn’t get an answer but there was a cheerful sound, almost a giggle, and Golden smiled, knowing her friend was fine. That was by no means a sound of distress.
Feeling much more relaxed she walked into the room and plopped down onto the vacant armchair. “Claire,” she called out, “I’m here like you ordered. What’s so urgent? This had better be good.” Then she chuckled. “You pulled me from my grand shopping spree, you know.” She shrugged. “Not that I have anything to show for it,” she said drily.
Then, as if by an invisible magnet, her eyes went back to the elegant boxes laid out on the bed. And then she saw it. There, nestled among the pink ribbons was a pink envelop with the name Golden Browne printed in big, bold letters. Golden stared, open-mouthed. Were the gift boxes for her?
