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“Thank you, but no.” Burt shook his head. “That’s incredibly kind of you. And, believe me, I’m not refusing out of some misplaced sense of pride. If money was the answer, I’d take you up on your generous offer without hesitation. But it’s not. The fact is, my mother’s getting weaker. I can see her deteriorating before my eyes. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.”
A spark of realization struck Sloane. “That’s why you didn’t want a beer. And what you meant when you said you might need to do some more driving tonight. You’re afraid Elsa will need to be hospitalized.”
“I want to be prepared…just in case. If all is well and she’s stable in the morning, I’ll leave, make arrangements at the bookstore, and pack some things. That way I can move in and take care of her until that’s not enough.”
“When is the nurse’s aid leaving?”
“Tomorrow at one. That’ll give me enough time to take care of everything and get back here. I’m taking Princess Di with me so the nurse’s aid can concentrate on my mother.”
Sloane’s mind was racing. “My appointment with my hand therapist is at ten. I’ll be back here by early afternoon. If you run into any complications—traffic, getting someone to handle the bookstore—anything, give me a call. I’ll stay with Elsa until you get back. If necessary, I’ll bring the hounds and spend the night.”
“You’ve got enough on your plate.”
“Yes, and all of it is transportable. I can work just as easily at Elsa’s house as I can here. So, please, don’t hesitate to turn to me for help.”
Before Burt could reply, the telephone rang.
“Excuse me for just a minute,” Sloane requested. She picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“How’s the hand?”
“Connie.” Sloane was touched by her friend’s concern. But her reaction was tempered, given that her thoughts were still preoccupied with Elsa’s failing health. “My hand is doing much better. I’m following all your instructions. You’ll see that for yourself when you take a look at it tomorrow.” A quick glance at Burt’s troubled expression. “Listen, you’re a sweetheart for calling. But it’s a bad time to talk. I’ve got company. So I’ll see you tomorrow at ten, okay? Thanks for checking up on me.”
“Not so fast,” Connie interrupted. “Who’s your company? It’s Derek, right? I knew it. The other night wasn’t a fluke. And it wasn’t a one-night rekindling either. It was a new beginning. I could see it written all over your face.”
“Like I said, this is a bad time.” Sloane ground her teeth to keep from saying more than she wanted to right now. “We’ll get into this tomorrow. Right now my neighbor’s here. He was kind enough to drop by to see how I feel and to bring me a delicious casserole his mother made. I’m being spoiled by all of you.”
As she spoke, the doorbell rang again.
“Sounds like you’re even more popular than you thought,” Connie commented at the other end of the phone.
“Not really.” Sloane waved away Burt’s gesture of offering to answer the door, and mouthed the words: That’s okay; I’ll get it. “That doorbell means that the messenger I’ve been waiting for with the material I need for my case has finally showed up,” she informed Connie. “I’d better run, before he decides no one’s home and I have to wait another day for my package.”
“Okay. But we will talk about this tomorrow. And this time I want every juicy detail.”
“Good night, Connie.” Sloane hung up and hurried to the door. “Finally,” she muttered to Burt, who was managing to keep the hounds from attacking the front door. “I was beginning to think he’d never get here.”
She pulled open the door, simultaneously reaching into her pocket for a few dollars to tip the messenger—and froze.
Derek was standing on the doorstep.
“Hey,” he greeted her, waving a padded pouch in the air. “Special delivery.”
“You brought it—why?” she asked bluntly. “Also, where have you been all day? What happened to your cell phone? And what took so long for the DVDs to be burned?”
“I’ve been breathing down people’s necks and playing political Ping-Pong all day. It turns out that four separate cameras cover the full section of campus between the parking lot and Lake Fred, which is the route we assume Penelope walked—and I wanted the surveillance footage from all of them. That caused a bit of an uproar, and added a shitload of time to the process. As for my cell—dead battery, forgot my charger. And I couldn’t get a messenger who’d drive up here this late, so I brought the DVDs myself. Anything else?”
Sloane drew a slow breath. “Come on in.” She stepped aside so he could comply. “How did you find this place? It doesn’t show up on any GPS I’ve ever seen.”
“I’m smart. And I’ve got a good sense of direction. Hey, fellas—and lady.” He squatted down and greeted the hounds as they broke free and raced over to jump all over him. A broad smile spread across his face as he scruffled and tussled with each of them. “Looks like you haven’t forgotten your old pal Derek. Well, I haven’t forgotten you either.” He pulled three little kongs filled with peanut butter out of his jacket pocket. “Still your favorites?” He chuckled as the dogs tripped over one another to get to the kongs. “Is it okay?” He tilted back his head, glancing quizzically up at Sloane.
“By all means.” She made a wide sweep with her arm. “They’d never forgive me if I said no.”
“Hear that, gang? They’re yours.” He distributed the kongs, and each dachshund snatched his or hers, then hurried off to a separate corner of the den to enjoy the treat in private.
“I think they call that bribery,” Sloane commented, shutting the door behind Derek.
“Not in this case. In this case it was long-time-no-see gifts.” Derek came to a halt as he spotted Burt for the first time. “Am I intruding?”
