straightened his brother’s legs.
“I think he just passed out.” Emmy put her hand to Victor’s head. “Joanne, do you have any ammonia?”
“Yes, in the laundry room,” she answered with concern on her face.
“Could you get it?”
Joanne nodded and took off for the laundry. Nathaniel felt around the back of Victor’s head, for lumps or bumps or blood, but drew his hand away clean and without finding either. Joanne came running back in with the container of ammonia.
“Just put a little bit in a glass,” Emmy instructed. “Maybe two tablespoons. Not much. Nathaniel, can you sit him up a little bit?”
He nodded and pushed himself behind Victor so he could lift his head. Joanne handed Emmy the glass of ammonia. The smell was pungent, even from where he was. Emmy passed the glass directly under Victor’s nose, and then again. He coughed and pushed the glass away and opened his eyes. He looked at Emmy and Nathaniel and Joanne, his face a mask of confusion.
“How did I get here?”
“You fainted,” Emmy admonished him.
“I, what?”
Nathaniel laughed. “You fainted, dude. Two gin and tonics and a brush with death. You went down. Can you sit up?”
Victor worked himself up into a sitting position. “Oh, damn. Everything is spinning.”
“You hit your head.” Joanne walked back over with a cold compress. “Put this on the back of your head, where you’re rubbing right now.”
“Do you want to go to the hospital?” Nathaniel asked.
“No, no.” Victor was insistent. “I think...I think I’m just completely exhausted and overwhelmed and need some sleep.” He looked at Nathaniel. “I will take down Tyndale-Dayton. I will buy it out, I will dismantle it and I will put Gerald and his miserable son in the poor house. I don’t even want to leave them the shirts on their backs.”
“I would prefer Lance kept his shirt.” Emmy folded her arms. “He’s not a handsome nude.”
Victor laughed. “You should stick around. Your comedic timing is perfect.”
Emmy rolled her eyes and laughed. “I don’t know if it’s very smart for you take a nap right off the bat here. You just hit your head and you should stay up for a while.”
“I didn’t hit that hard. I was dizzy from the fall and the booze.” Victor climbed to his feet.
“All right, but I’m going to send Dixon in to check on you when he gets here,” Nathaniel promised.
“Yeah, I need sleep. I’m going to check on my little girl and tuck myself in.” He looked at Joanne. “Don’t hold dinner.”
“I never do,” Joanne said.
Chapter Eight
Emmy was standing on the balcony overlooking the verandah by the ballroom. The gardens were starting to come to life with thousands of flowers, and the fragrance drifting up was heady. She heard Nathaniel walk out to join her. “How’s Victor?” she asked.
“He’s okay,” he answered. “He just smacked his head. Seems like he caught most of it on his back. He’s not dizzy anymore and he was busy putting the baby down.”
“How did your talk go?”
“Fine.” Nathaniel leaned on the railing. “We’re going to get the lawyers to come up and walk us through all the plans and make sure they’ll work.”
“I’ll make a note of it, Mr. Walsh.” Emmy smiled.
He moved to wrap his arms around her from behind and looked out at the garden, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I almost lost my brother today.” Sadness laced his voice.
“I know. But you didn’t and everything has worked out for the better.” Emmy had wanted to throw up when she arrived at the yard with Gwen and Tank. It had felt like forever before her boss had appeared at that gate. It had scared her; she really loved Victor. She couldn’t imagine a better boss, or a more fun person to work for. She couldn’t imagine his brother losing him.
They stood watching the sun go down behind the trees and she felt Nathaniel start to nibble on her neck, lightly. A smile slid on to her face and Emmy turned her
“I think he just passed out.” Emmy put her hand to Victor’s head. “Joanne, do you have any ammonia?”
“Yes, in the laundry room,” she answered with concern on her face.
“Could you get it?”
Joanne nodded and took off for the laundry. Nathaniel felt around the back of Victor’s head, for lumps or bumps or blood, but drew his hand away clean and without finding either. Joanne came running back in with the container of ammonia.
“Just put a little bit in a glass,” Emmy instructed. “Maybe two tablespoons. Not much. Nathaniel, can you sit him up a little bit?”
He nodded and pushed himself behind Victor so he could lift his head. Joanne handed Emmy the glass of ammonia. The smell was pungent, even from where he was. Emmy passed the glass directly under Victor’s nose, and then again. He coughed and pushed the glass away and opened his eyes. He looked at Emmy and Nathaniel and Joanne, his face a mask of confusion.
“How did I get here?”
“You fainted,” Emmy admonished him.
“I, what?”
Nathaniel laughed. “You fainted, dude. Two gin and tonics and a brush with death. You went down. Can you sit up?”
Victor worked himself up into a sitting position. “Oh, damn. Everything is spinning.”
“You hit your head.” Joanne walked back over with a cold compress. “Put this on the back of your head, where you’re rubbing right now.”
“Do you want to go to the hospital?” Nathaniel asked.
“No, no.” Victor was insistent. “I think...I think I’m just completely exhausted and overwhelmed and need some sleep.” He looked at Nathaniel. “I will take down Tyndale-Dayton. I will buy it out, I will dismantle it and I will put Gerald and his miserable son in the poor house. I don’t even want to leave them the shirts on their backs.”
“I would prefer Lance kept his shirt.” Emmy folded her arms. “He’s not a handsome nude.”
Victor laughed. “You should stick around. Your comedic timing is perfect.”
Emmy rolled her eyes and laughed. “I don’t know if it’s very smart for you take a nap right off the bat here. You just hit your head and you should stay up for a while.”
“I didn’t hit that hard. I was dizzy from the fall and the booze.” Victor climbed to his feet.
“All right, but I’m going to send Dixon in to check on you when he gets here,” Nathaniel promised.
“Yeah, I need sleep. I’m going to check on my little girl and tuck myself in.” He looked at Joanne. “Don’t hold dinner.”
“I never do,” Joanne said.
Chapter Eight
Emmy was standing on the balcony overlooking the verandah by the ballroom. The gardens were starting to come to life with thousands of flowers, and the fragrance drifting up was heady. She heard Nathaniel walk out to join her. “How’s Victor?” she asked.
“He’s okay,” he answered. “He just smacked his head. Seems like he caught most of it on his back. He’s not dizzy anymore and he was busy putting the baby down.”
“How did your talk go?”
“Fine.” Nathaniel leaned on the railing. “We’re going to get the lawyers to come up and walk us through all the plans and make sure they’ll work.”
“I’ll make a note of it, Mr. Walsh.” Emmy smiled.
He moved to wrap his arms around her from behind and looked out at the garden, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I almost lost my brother today.” Sadness laced his voice.
“I know. But you didn’t and everything has worked out for the better.” Emmy had wanted to throw up when she arrived at the yard with Gwen and Tank. It had felt like forever before her boss had appeared at that gate. It had scared her; she really loved Victor. She couldn’t imagine a better boss, or a more fun person to work for. She couldn’t imagine his brother losing him.
They stood watching the sun go down behind the trees and she felt Nathaniel start to nibble on her neck, lightly. A smile slid on to her face and Emmy turned her
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