Blood Rubies by Jane K. Cleland Page B

beside her. “I’m glad you came back, Heather.”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    I slipped out of the room, relieved that Ted was there, knowing I was out of my depth.
    I found the keys under a hydrangea bush and scooped them up, then hurried back to the kitchen. Heather wasn’t there.
    â€œHeather wanted to clean up,” Ted explained. “I asked Pam to go with her.”
    â€œGood. I suspect Pam is just what the doctor ordered.” Ted’s secretary, Pam, was closer to seventy than sixty, a latter-day hippie. Her gray hair reached nearly to her waist, and she usually wore peasant dresses and Birkenstocks. She had a warm nonjudgmental smile. Heather couldn’t be in better hands.
    â€œI agree.” Ted shook his head sadly. “Grief is a spiteful beast with sharp teeth and long claws.”
    I handed him her keys. “I’m glad she’s here with you.”
    â€œHopefully she’ll agree to stay for a while, to rest and talk some more.”
    â€œShe told me she was concerned about her mom, that she left the hotel without telling her she was going. And some friends. Jason’s best friend and his wife. She said she blew off lunch with them.”
    â€œI’ll ask if she’d like us to call them.”
    â€œWhen she’s ready to go, I’ll be glad to drive her.”
    â€œThank you, Josie. We can see she gets back safely.”
    â€œYou’re a wonderful man, Ted.”
    His cheeks reddened at the compliment, and his eyes brightened. “I don’t know about that. I just empathize. Losing someone you love suddenly—I think it’s among the hardest things we have to endure.”
    Memories of loss pricked my heart. Oh, Dad.
    â€œShe’ll be fine,” Ted continued, and from his expression, I could tell he was trying to reassure me. “We all learn to cope. We all have a far greater capacity to cope than we realize.”
    â€œCoping takes such energy,” I said.
    Ted patted my arm. “It does, doesn’t it? Have you ever noticed, though, how you cope and cope and cope, and then one day, you realize you’re not coping anymore? You’ve pushed through the grief or whatever and you’re on the other side, back in the land of the living.”
    â€œThe land of the living—to be awake, to be aware, to care once again.”
    â€œTo be with God. Psalm 27. If you’ll wait just a moment, let me ask Heather if she’d prefer that you call her mother, not us. She might want her presence here to remain private. You can honestly say that she decided to spend a little time chatting with you.”
    â€œOf course.” I smiled, amused at his earnest effort to stick to the truth. “And what will I say when her mom asks to speak to her?”
    He smiled back. “That she asked you to call since she doesn’t feel like explaining anything just yet.”
    â€œAnd her mom will be in the next cab across town.”
    â€œWhere you can greet her with the news that Heather decided to go for a walk.”
    â€œYou’re a smooth talker for a preacher-man.”
    â€œThanks,” Ted said, smiling, pleased. “I’ll leave you here while I check with her.”
    He went upstairs, and I sat at the table to wait, idly stroking the satiny, well-rubbed wood. The old-style white tiles that ran from the floor to the ceiling gleamed. The oak floor was covered here and there with cheerful multicolored rag rugs. The stainless steel tables and appliances—the only upgrades in the place—glistened.
    Pam came in, smiling. “Heather’s calmer now. She asked Ted to call her mom. Before you go, would you like a cup of tea?”
    â€œNo, thanks. I need to get back.” I stood up. “How is she, really?”
    â€œJason’s death hit her hard. She seems to think she should be able to carry on as usual with no break in her routine.” Pam shook her head and sighed. “She