Monkey Wrench. Nancy Martin
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y’know!”
“Okay, okay,” said Joe, placating his hot-tempered child before she really blew up. “I’ll leave that part up to you. But if you need money for a dress or anything else in that department, I’ll be happy to give you whatever you need—within reason.”
“What’s within reason?”
Joe hadn’t the faintest idea how much a dress was going to cost—fifty dollars, maybe? But somehow he knew it would be a tactical error to admit such a failing. He said, “I’ll think about it and get back to you. In the meantime, you can concentrate on finding a date.”
“I can manage that, I think.”
“Can you manage to fix us a salad, too?”
“Okay,” said Gina, hopping off her stool to help. She hugged Joe from behind first and said, “I love you, Daddy. You’re so understanding. You’re the best father in the whole world!”
Joe grinned. He was wrapped around his daughter’s little finger, and he knew it. He’d give Gina a hundred dollars for a dress. She deserved the best, after all.
She loosened her hug and said softly, “You know, if you wanted to see the television lady again, I guess I wouldn’t blame you.”
Joe laughed and turned around, cradling Gina in his arms. “What brought that on?”
She didn’t meet his gaze. “I dunno. You’re not a monk, I guess.”
“A monk? Who have you been talking to?” Joe demanded, amused. “Your piano teacher again?”
Gina shrugged. “Maybe. She says you’re an attractive man. She did, honest,” Gina repeated when Joe laughed in disbelief. “She says I can’t keep you all to myself much longer.”
“Gina...” Joe began, massaging her arms and wondering what in the hell he was supposed to say.
But Gina stepped away from him, shaking her head rapidly. “I know it’s true. You hate me sometimes—when I lie—and you want to have somebody nice around....”
“I never hate you, Gina.”
“But...” Gina stopped, her voice suddenly clogged with tears. “You need a woman around.”
Joe’s heart melted. But he couldn’t find the right words to ease his daughter’s pain. Clearly, she was threatened by the idea of another woman entering his life, but he couldn’t figure out how to explain that his feelings for Gina would never change. She was his daughter, for crying out loud! Nobody could ever change that bond.
“Listen,” he said, attempting to josh her out of her mood, “let me decide what I need around here, okay? Nobody knows better than I do, got that?”
She tried to smile. “Okay.”
“And the first thing I need is food,” Joe declared. “I’m starving. Let’s get dinner on the table, partner. Then we’ll talk more about this dress business, okay?”
Gina’s smile flickered at last. “Okay, Dad.”
He released her and went back to fixing dinner. He’d find a way to get Susannah Atkins out of his mind eventually. The last thing he wanted was to alienate Gina. If giving up women for the rest of his life was required, then so be it.
But, damn, Miss Suzie was going to be hard to forget.
THE PARAMEDICS GAVE Rose a thorough examination. “We could take you to the emergency room, Mrs. Atkins, but I’m not picking up anything really terrible,” said the young woman with the stethoscope. “Your blood pressure’s a little high.”
“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Rose insisted. “I was just a little dizzy. I feel fine now.”
“Well, you should see your doctor tomorrow,” the paramedic counseled. “Perhaps your granddaughter will take you.”
“Oh, no. Susannah’s going on vacation. I’ll ask a friend to go with me.”
“We’ll see,” Susannah said, then showed the kind paramedics to the door. When she returned to the parlor where Rose was reclining on the sofa, she said, “I think I’ll call your doctor immediately, Granny Rose. Are you still seeing Dr. Phelps?”
“Heavens, don’t bother him tonight.” Rose sat up briskly. “He’ll just tell me to come in in the morning.”
“All right, I’ll take you to see him first thing.”
“I won’t hear of you changing your plans for me, Suzie. I’m not feeble, you know!”
“But—”
“I don’t need a nursemaid. You should take your vacation. You need it.”
The argument went on for several minutes, and Susannah had never felt more helpless. How could she force a perfectly sane adult woman to see a doctor when she didn’t want to? Her attentions only upset Rose.
“Granny Rose, I wish you’d be sensible.”
“I’m perfectly sensible,” Rose snapped, putting an end to the discussion by getting up and preparing a delicious supper of homemade soup and whole wheat rolls that she popped out of the freezer and into her warming oven. The rolls were perfect with Susannah’s peach chutney, and Rose chattered at length about the soup recipe, one she felt Susannah could use in her TV program. Susannah was aware that her grandmother was trying to divert their attention from the problem at hand, but she allowed Rose to talk aimlessly about unimportant matters during the meal. Afterward, in the parlor, they enjoyed tea laced with brandy in front of a roaring fire. Talking local gossip, Susannah watched her grandmother’s every move and syllable for signs of illness, but Rose seemed healthy and happy.
Rose always went to bed before ten o’clock. Since Susannah could hear her grandmother cheerily humming Christmas carols in her room, she tiptoed downstairs to telephone Roger.
She got through to his answering machine.
“Roger,” she said to the recording, “I’ve run into a problem with my grandmother. I may have to postpone my flight. I’ll call you in the morning when I know what’s going on. I—I’m sorry about this.” She wished she could say more, but it was difficult speaking to a machine. She ended by saying softly, “I’ll be in touch. Good night.”
She hung up, wishing she could have talked with Roger personally. Although he wasn’t much of a listener where personal problems were concerned, he was a logical, unemotional thinker, which might be helpful. He could at least act as a sounding board for Susannah’s worries about Rose. She needed someone to share her feelings—someone who could help her decide how to help her grandmother without compromising Rose’s self-esteem and independence.
“How do I help Granny Rose without making her feel like she’s incapable of taking care of herself?”
A good answer didn’t occur to Susannah, so she went upstairs quietly and changed into her flannel nightgown. She left her bedroom door ajar in case her grandmother should cry out in the middle of the night, and climbed into bed. It was the same canopied princess bed where she’d slept during her childhood. The same gauzy white curtains festooned the frilly white bed that resembled—in Susannah’s mind—the grand sleigh of a beautiful ice princess who drove a pair of milk-white ponies over the snowy land she lived in.
But the pleasant memories evoked by her bed didn’t make Susannah feel any better. She lay awake for a long time, wondering what she could do. So many of her friends had taken care of elderly parents, but Susannah had never imagined the day when Rose might be incapacitated in any way. Such a vital, fun-loving woman as Granny Rose didn’t deserve a slow, undignified slide into dependency.
Yet there was no stopping old age,