Jonagold’s, or candy, nothing but the best, Russell Stover’s, and Stella Dora’s. Don’t think those Stella Dora’s are cheap either. Not that she left him a red penny, mind you. All that went to his sister, Lucille.”
“I didn’t care about the money. Lucy’s the one who gave up her job to take care of Ma.”
“Ha, you mean stuffing crème in donuts?” Flaps of flesh jiggled as Roberta Carlson nodded at Quinn and repeated, “Not a red penny.”
“I was supposed to visit her last week, the day we come to see you, Mr. Burnes.” Carl’s eyes glossed with a mix of regret and misery. “She asked for me, but I came here instead.” His voice quivered. “I came to talk about money, and after, when we stopped by . . .”
“She didn’t remember nothin’ past 1988, Carl. She wouldn’t have known you was there.”
“I would have known.”
Roberta shook her head again and crossed her arms over her huge chest. “Fine. You would have. Where’s that get us now?”
Carl pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, wiped his eyes and blew his nose. He directed his next words at Quinn. “I’m not wanting to sue anymore, Mr. Burnes.”
“Carl!” his wife squealed.
“I thank you for your time, and you go on ahead and send a bill.”
“Carl, wait. You don’t know what you’re saying. You have permanent damage. What about the surgeries, the therapy, the disability? ”
“Insurance took care of most of it.” He shrugged and said, “It was an accident, Roberta. Them people meant me no harm and it ain’t right to take something from them just because they got it.”
“You’re upset.” She looked at Quinn, desperation in her beady eyes. “It’s his mother. He hasn’t been the same since her death. Give him a few weeks, he’ll come around and see the right of it. Can’t you just, you know, keep things in motion?”
“It’s up to Mr. Carlson.” Quinn was rooting for the big man to push past his big-mouthed wife.
“I won’t be pressing no charges.” Carl Carlson wiped his eyes with a beefy hand. “All that money wouldn’t bring my Ma back. It’d only be a reminder that I was here, instead of where I should’ve been.”
“Carl, please. Don’t do this.”
“That’s enough, Roberta. I said it’s done.” He hefted himself out of the chair and wobbled to a standing position. “I thank you, Mr. Burnes.” He extended his hand. “Sorry to take up so much of your time.”
“My condolences, Mr. Carlson.” Quinn stood and shook his hand before turning to Roberta Carlson.
She opened her mouth, closed it, then she too, squeezed out of her chair. “Good bye, Mr. Burnes.”
When they were gone, Quinn blew out a long breath and moved to the large window overlooking the city. Throngs of people maneuvered the streets looking wilted and swollen in the summer heat. Thank God for air conditioning, the true blessing of summer. He shoved his hands in his pockets and thought about Carl Carlson. The man pulled through and did the right thing despite his pain in the ass wife and her dogged insistence that he take what was rightfully his. Only it wasn’t his and Carl knew this. Bravo, Carl Carlson.
Sylvia buzzed him and he picked up, half wondering if Roberta Carlson had strong-armed her husband in the elevator and forced him back to the office.
“Quinn, I’ve got Arianna Sorensen on the line.” Sylvia’s voice held a secretive questioning tone. “She said it’s urgent.”
“Put her through.” A slow bead of panic spread through him. Had something happened to Danielle?
“Quinn. Thank God.” Arianna’s usually calm voice rasped through the line in nervous agitation.
“What’s the matter? Is it Danielle?”
“He called her. My God, he said he was coming for her.”
“Who?” But Quinn didn’t need a name. He knew. Alexander Maldonando was alive and he was coming for his wife.
***
Eve lay curled on the futon smothered in two afghans though it was eighty degrees
“I didn’t care about the money. Lucy’s the one who gave up her job to take care of Ma.”
“Ha, you mean stuffing crème in donuts?” Flaps of flesh jiggled as Roberta Carlson nodded at Quinn and repeated, “Not a red penny.”
“I was supposed to visit her last week, the day we come to see you, Mr. Burnes.” Carl’s eyes glossed with a mix of regret and misery. “She asked for me, but I came here instead.” His voice quivered. “I came to talk about money, and after, when we stopped by . . .”
“She didn’t remember nothin’ past 1988, Carl. She wouldn’t have known you was there.”
“I would have known.”
Roberta shook her head again and crossed her arms over her huge chest. “Fine. You would have. Where’s that get us now?”
Carl pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, wiped his eyes and blew his nose. He directed his next words at Quinn. “I’m not wanting to sue anymore, Mr. Burnes.”
“Carl!” his wife squealed.
“I thank you for your time, and you go on ahead and send a bill.”
“Carl, wait. You don’t know what you’re saying. You have permanent damage. What about the surgeries, the therapy, the disability? ”
“Insurance took care of most of it.” He shrugged and said, “It was an accident, Roberta. Them people meant me no harm and it ain’t right to take something from them just because they got it.”
“You’re upset.” She looked at Quinn, desperation in her beady eyes. “It’s his mother. He hasn’t been the same since her death. Give him a few weeks, he’ll come around and see the right of it. Can’t you just, you know, keep things in motion?”
“It’s up to Mr. Carlson.” Quinn was rooting for the big man to push past his big-mouthed wife.
“I won’t be pressing no charges.” Carl Carlson wiped his eyes with a beefy hand. “All that money wouldn’t bring my Ma back. It’d only be a reminder that I was here, instead of where I should’ve been.”
“Carl, please. Don’t do this.”
“That’s enough, Roberta. I said it’s done.” He hefted himself out of the chair and wobbled to a standing position. “I thank you, Mr. Burnes.” He extended his hand. “Sorry to take up so much of your time.”
“My condolences, Mr. Carlson.” Quinn stood and shook his hand before turning to Roberta Carlson.
She opened her mouth, closed it, then she too, squeezed out of her chair. “Good bye, Mr. Burnes.”
When they were gone, Quinn blew out a long breath and moved to the large window overlooking the city. Throngs of people maneuvered the streets looking wilted and swollen in the summer heat. Thank God for air conditioning, the true blessing of summer. He shoved his hands in his pockets and thought about Carl Carlson. The man pulled through and did the right thing despite his pain in the ass wife and her dogged insistence that he take what was rightfully his. Only it wasn’t his and Carl knew this. Bravo, Carl Carlson.
Sylvia buzzed him and he picked up, half wondering if Roberta Carlson had strong-armed her husband in the elevator and forced him back to the office.
“Quinn, I’ve got Arianna Sorensen on the line.” Sylvia’s voice held a secretive questioning tone. “She said it’s urgent.”
“Put her through.” A slow bead of panic spread through him. Had something happened to Danielle?
“Quinn. Thank God.” Arianna’s usually calm voice rasped through the line in nervous agitation.
“What’s the matter? Is it Danielle?”
“He called her. My God, he said he was coming for her.”
“Who?” But Quinn didn’t need a name. He knew. Alexander Maldonando was alive and he was coming for his wife.
***
Eve lay curled on the futon smothered in two afghans though it was eighty degrees
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