Abigail lifted her glass almost to her lips, paused, then replaced it on the wicker tray. “Actually, we should be going.” She checked her diamond-studded watch. “Didn’t you tell the cabdriver to be back at three-thirty, Hubert? We ought to check in at the ship.”
Her husband scanned his own watch, and once again Sally had the oddest feeling she was looking at little blue-blooded bookends. “The time does fly,” Hubert murmured, pushing up to stand.
Noah set his glass on the tray and stood, too. “I think I hear the cab.” He held out a hand and assisted Abigail to stand. “Now, don’t be strangers.”
“I—well…” Abigail smiled briefly then averted her gaze to settle her full attention on smoothing her skirt. As Sally labored to stand, Abigail’s glance shot to her. “Oh, don’t bother.” She made a brisk, dismissing wave as though shooing a flea. “Your husband can see us to the door.”
Sally sank back without argument. That was fine with her. Lately, getting out of chairs was hard enough when she really wanted to. “Have a nice cruise,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. Thank heavens! The ordeal was almost over. Relaxing back, she closed her eyes.
A shriek and a thundering crash made them pop back open. The anguished howl that followed blasted her out of her chair.
CHAPTER TWO
NOAH felt an impact in his gut and looked down to see Abigail Vanderkellen sagging into him. Instinctively he scooped up the limp woman while he watched in shock as Hubert, who Abigail had apparently shoved in her initial panic, skidded across the entry tiles.
In a bizarre slow motion the elderly man toppled sideways into a metal sculpture that depicted what appeared to be a leafy, vining plant. With Mr. Vanderkellen’s impact, the sculpture pitched over, causing a thunderous crash. Hubert quickly followed the sculpture to earth, his landing accompanied by a dull thud. After all motion ceased, Mr. Vanderkellen lay sprawled, faceup, arched awkwardly across the spiky metal.
His howl brought Noah out of his momentary astonishment and he hurriedly placed a swooning Mrs. Vanderkellen on the sofa. “See to your grandmother,” he shouted at his fake wife as he rushed to Hubert.
Automatically he began a preliminary examination, wondering grimly when his workday would end and his long-anticipated vacation begin? This whole blasted day had been one time-consuming hassle after another. He’d thought he’d never get out of the hospital. When he pulled into Sam’s sister’s driveway, he’d been laboring under the delusion his headaches were over for the next two weeks. The cute pregnant lady who’d struggled down those steps hadn’t given him any reason to change his mind. Not until she’d grabbed his hand, slipped a wedding ring onto his finger and whispered urgently that they were deliriously happy.
That’s when he’d stepped into the Twilight Zone, and come face-to-face with a past he’d thought he’d left behind half a lifetime ago in Boston. He wasn’t surprised that Abigail and Hubert hadn’t immediately known him. After all, he’d left Massachusetts after graduating from high school and had only returned a few times to visit his family at Christmas. It was funny how life could deal you such crazy, surprising hands.
As he examined Hubert, he had the fleeting wish he was still dealing with last-minute hospital hassles. Since he’d come into Sam’s sister’s house a half hour ago, things had gone a little too nuts for his taste.
All he knew was, the pretty blonde, no doubt Sam’s sister, was terribly uncomfortable around her grandparents. Why that was true, he couldn’t imagine. He hadn’t known the Vanderkellens well, but they had never seemed like demons. Just a little pompous. Still, her obvious dismay had been enough for him to go along with her wordless plea.
Those big, gray eyes had an uncanny effect on him. Or maybe it was her advanced pregnancy that was the deciding factor. Being an obstetrician, it would be natural for him to want to ease the stress of a woman in her condition—apparently even if he didn’t have the faintest idea what in blazes he was doing.
He heard muted voices in the parlor and gathered Sam’s sister was seeing to her grandmother, who was regaining consciousness. Thank goodness for that, at least. “We’ll get you to a hospital, Mr. Vanderkellen, and—”
“No,” the older man wheezed. “No hospital.” He clutched Noah’s arm. “I don’t like hospitals—I don’t need one.”
“Don’t move him!” came a worried female voice from the parlor. “We need to call an ambulance!”
Sam’s sister appeared at the foyer entrance.
“How’s your grandmother?”
“Feeling faint, but she’s getting color back in her face.” Her worried expression deepened. “What are you doing to Grandfather?” She hurried across the foyer and clutched Noah’s shoulder as though attempting to make him back off. “You’re not to move him until the ambulance arrives.”
“This will go much faster if you don’t grab at me.” He leaned out of her grip.
“He needs a…” She paused. The next thing he knew she was whispering sharply in his ear. “He needs a doctor!”
“I know that.” Noah turned to frown at her. He’d been at the hospital since 5:00 a.m. He was tired and he didn’t feel like being grabbed, even if the grabber was attractive. “See if your grandmother would like a drink of water or a cool cloth for her head.”
She looked upset and a warning blazed in her pretty eyes. “But—sweetie —you can’t—”
“It’s my bad back,” Hubert broke in, moaning. “I’ve thrown it out, again. It’s nothing—serious.”
With the patient’s admission of a chronic back problem, there was every indication medication and bed rest was all Hubert needed, but Noah tried again. “It would be better if you were examined at a hospital.”
“No!” Hubert said gruffly, trying to prop himself up. “I won’t have it. I detest those places.” He winced, but refused to lie back.
“Okay, okay,” Noah said. “Hold still. Let me help you.” With great care, he lifted the man in his arms and carried him into the parlor. Mrs. Vanderkellen was now sitting, nervous fingers patted her hair. Clearly she wasn’t a woman who lost her composure without suffering greatly for it.
“Sweetheart?” Noah tried not to grit his teeth with the lie.
His sham wife caught up. “Yes—dear?”
“Could you help your grandmother to that easy chair. It would be best if Hubert could lie flat.”
“Oh…” His deliriously happy partner in crime didn’t look deliriously happy as she scanned her pale grandmother. “Sure.” She moved to the older woman’s side. “Grandmother? May I help you to the chair?” She indicated the one she’d been sitting in. “Do you think you can make it?”
Mrs. Vanderkellen didn’t look particularly delirious, either. “Of course, I’m fine.” She eyed the floor as she was helped to the chair, as though expecting to see some beast leap out at her. Once she was seated, she lifted her feet to the ottoman and peered at Hubert. “Is it his back?”
Noah nodded. “I’m afraid so.” He laid his moaning burden on the vacated couch. “You said this has happened before?”
“Yes.” Hubert nodded, then closed his eyes in pain. “A muscle goes into spasms.”
“When this happens,” Noah asked, “what does your personal physician prescribe?”
“To stay active and walk it off,” came a tart rejoinder from his wife.
Hubert made a face.