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Dr. Shaw rolled the stool back to the computer. “How are the headaches? Do you have one now?”
“I…” Should he be honest?
He had to be. He wasn’t a hypocrite. “I had one last night. Brought on by stress. I have a…hangover from it.”
“I can tell.” The doctor pulled out an FBI form. “I’m authorizing you to go back to work—part-time. Let’s see how you do.”
“Part-time? I don’t even know what I could do part-time.”
“You’re not the first agent to come off a debilitating injury. Margaret will figure out how to make use of your skills.”
Part-time. He shook his head. He’d been prepared for anything—but that. “Thanks.”
“I’ll see you in two weeks. But if the headaches or dizziness get worse, get back in here.” He pointed a finger at him. “Promise.”
“Sure.”
Sage set another appointment and headed to his car. He should call Carolina and let her know the good—
He stopped in the center of the parking lot. There was no more sharing news with Carolina.
But he’d promised to watch Rosa tonight.
He sent her a text.
Did you find someone to watch your mother tonight?
The message came back quickly.
Still looking.
I’ll come down.
Thank you. That would help.
Helping someone with a sick parent didn’t mean he condoned her actions. He wouldn’t linger. Wouldn’t ask about her life. He would watch her mother.
Carolina may live dishonorably, but he was a Cornell. Honor was all he knew.
* * *
CAROLINA CHECKED THE time and set her bag next to the front door. Why had Sage volunteered to take care of her mother? Had he forgiven her?
She couldn’t get her hopes up.
She sat in the chair. Shoot. This was where Sage had sat last night. She moved next to her mother on the sofa. “Mamá, do you need anything?”
“No. Well, maybe a glass of water.”
Carolina grabbed the glass on the end table and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” Her mother took a sip and set the glass on the sofa.
Carolina picked it up and set it back on the end table. Each day reinforced why Mamá couldn’t be alone. “Sage is coming to have dinner with you.”
“Sage?”
She couldn’t say her boyfriend. He wasn’t that anymore. “Sage was here last night. He told me you had champagne on the porch.”
“Oh, yes. He’s handsome.” Mamá fluttered her eyelashes. “He’s not married, is he? Even though he’s so handsome, don’t get tangled up with a married man unless he gives you some security.”
Words of wisdom she did not need.
There was a knock at the door. My how things had changed. Before, when Sage had come, he would knock and then come in.
She took a breath and opened the door. “Thank you.”
He stepped into the house. “I keep my promises.”
He made it sound like she didn’t. Her spine straightened. “So do I. Dinner is in the oven.”
“I know the drill.” Sage walked over to her mother and held up a bottle of champagne. “I brought you something, Rosa.”
“Oh, lovely.” Mamá clapped. “Let’s open it and drink on the porch.”
“That’s the plan.” Sage glanced at Carolina. “You can go.”
She swallowed and grabbed her bag. “Have a good night. Mamá, make sure you don’t stand too quickly. Remember you get dizzy now.”
Sage nodded. No light glinted in his eyes. Even when he was in terrible pain, he would light up when he saw her.
She’d killed that. Killed his sparkle.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He shrugged and moved closer to her mother. “Are you ready for a glass?”
He’d dismissed her.
Carolina rushed out the door. In her car she took deep breaths, trying to dredge up some energy. She had to get to work because she couldn’t lose this job.
Abby hadn’t made any commitments beyond the contract. Did that include the bartending job?
She should be paying more attention to the road as she drove into Savannah. Instead she practiced how to tell Abby. Surely, Abby would understand why she’d taken the globe.
When she walked into the kitchen, a wall of noise greeted her. A server slipped a loaded tray of appetizers into the dumbwaiter. Cheryl waited with another platter.
Carolina poked her head around the corner and spotted Abby at the expediter’s station. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“No.” Abby shoved back her hair. “We’re slammed.”
“Oh.” That response hadn’t been in any of her practiced scenarios. “Later?”
“Closing,” Abby snapped. “Can you do your own intro? I can’t break away.”
