bags under the eyes but a strong chin.
Stan shook his hand formally as though they hadn’t just spent the week in some proximity. Though counting all the “sightseeing” drives the family had taken, they hadn’t connected as much as they might have. “Todd says you’d like permission to do things with him?”
Morgan glanced at the scrawny spin artist, then back to Stan. “Thought we could try out some hiking trails, take in a movie or two.”
Stan rested his hands on his hips and nodded. “Since you’re Rick’s brother, I don’t see why not.”
Yes, any brother of Rick’s must be good as gold. Stan’s sense of smell must not have Todd’s acuity.
Stan nodded toward the bag in the trunk. “Were you going somewhere?”
Todd’s eyes darted and Morgan’s met them. “No.” He could tell himself the word came without thinking, but it hadn’t. Somewhere between tossing the bag into the trunk and shaking Stan’s hand, he’d decided not to leave.
Stan’s eyes ran over the rest of the car. “What do you do, Morgan?”
“I’m a corporate consultant, troubleshooter. I solve people’s problems.”
Stan nodded. “Must do all right with it.”
Morgan formed a quick smile. “Yeah.”
“He’s not as rich as Bill Gates,” Todd said.
“Todd.” Stan frowned.
Morgan laughed. “That’s okay. I told him that.”
“Well. Todd has some work to finish up.” Stan raised a hand. “Just let me know when you want to put something together—with Todd, I mean.”
Morgan nodded. “Sure.” Stan seemed a decent enough guy, though he’d jumped to a conclusion comparing him to Rick. Still, Todd could do a lot worse. As they walked off, Morgan pulled his bag from the trunk and started back into the house.
Noelle had begun the vase and stems when he went back upstairs. She turned and smiled, guessing in advance his change of heart.
“I guess I’ll stay awhile, unless you’ve fumigated my room.”
She shook her head. “What changed your mind?”
He glanced behind him. “Todd.”
Noelle’s smile spread, reading more into it than there was. But then, maybe not.
“Just a few days probably. That’s all the quiet I can stand.”
“You’re welcome as long as you like. You know that.”
He did. Though he and Rick were as opposite as two brothers could be, there was a bond between them. Maybe more so since Noelle had entered the picture, strange as that seemed. Someone less than Rick might be jealous and suspicious, especially when Morgan pressed the limits. Instead he freely offered his home, his family. Morgan nodded. Sometimes he needed that.
CHAPTER
7
J ill stared at the letter, an impersonal sheet of paper typed by uncaring hands, the scrawl of a signature at the end. She felt light, as though gravity had suddenly released her, then realized with a crash it had not. Her head struck the edge of the table. Pain.
“Jill!” Shelly rushed in, slamming the measuring cup onto the table and crouching beside her. “Did you faint? Are you sick?”
Jill cleared the shock from her head. Sick? No. But her heart did not believe it.
“You have not been eating, girl.”
That was true. Yet she’d gotten up at dawn every morning and run, hoping the exercise-induced dopamine would suffice. She had poured herself into tutoring the students who qualified for the extended schoolyear program while she had waited to hear the results. And now …
“What’s this?” Shelly snatched the letter.
Feebly Jill tried to take it back.
Shelly stood up. “What is this?” Her face paled, her mouth hung slack. “Pre-transplant bone marrow test results? Jill! Are you dying?”
Jill dropped her face to her hands. “No,” she said flatly. “My daughter is.”
Shelly dropped her hip against the cabinet, mouth open, staring as though Jill had suddenly turned green and sprouted antennae.
“A bone marrow transplant is her only chance for cure.” Tears stung
and her throat burned. “I don’t match, Shelly.”
Stan shook his hand formally as though they hadn’t just spent the week in some proximity. Though counting all the “sightseeing” drives the family had taken, they hadn’t connected as much as they might have. “Todd says you’d like permission to do things with him?”
Morgan glanced at the scrawny spin artist, then back to Stan. “Thought we could try out some hiking trails, take in a movie or two.”
Stan rested his hands on his hips and nodded. “Since you’re Rick’s brother, I don’t see why not.”
Yes, any brother of Rick’s must be good as gold. Stan’s sense of smell must not have Todd’s acuity.
Stan nodded toward the bag in the trunk. “Were you going somewhere?”
Todd’s eyes darted and Morgan’s met them. “No.” He could tell himself the word came without thinking, but it hadn’t. Somewhere between tossing the bag into the trunk and shaking Stan’s hand, he’d decided not to leave.
Stan’s eyes ran over the rest of the car. “What do you do, Morgan?”
“I’m a corporate consultant, troubleshooter. I solve people’s problems.”
Stan nodded. “Must do all right with it.”
Morgan formed a quick smile. “Yeah.”
“He’s not as rich as Bill Gates,” Todd said.
“Todd.” Stan frowned.
Morgan laughed. “That’s okay. I told him that.”
“Well. Todd has some work to finish up.” Stan raised a hand. “Just let me know when you want to put something together—with Todd, I mean.”
Morgan nodded. “Sure.” Stan seemed a decent enough guy, though he’d jumped to a conclusion comparing him to Rick. Still, Todd could do a lot worse. As they walked off, Morgan pulled his bag from the trunk and started back into the house.
Noelle had begun the vase and stems when he went back upstairs. She turned and smiled, guessing in advance his change of heart.
“I guess I’ll stay awhile, unless you’ve fumigated my room.”
She shook her head. “What changed your mind?”
He glanced behind him. “Todd.”
Noelle’s smile spread, reading more into it than there was. But then, maybe not.
“Just a few days probably. That’s all the quiet I can stand.”
“You’re welcome as long as you like. You know that.”
He did. Though he and Rick were as opposite as two brothers could be, there was a bond between them. Maybe more so since Noelle had entered the picture, strange as that seemed. Someone less than Rick might be jealous and suspicious, especially when Morgan pressed the limits. Instead he freely offered his home, his family. Morgan nodded. Sometimes he needed that.
CHAPTER
7
J ill stared at the letter, an impersonal sheet of paper typed by uncaring hands, the scrawl of a signature at the end. She felt light, as though gravity had suddenly released her, then realized with a crash it had not. Her head struck the edge of the table. Pain.
“Jill!” Shelly rushed in, slamming the measuring cup onto the table and crouching beside her. “Did you faint? Are you sick?”
Jill cleared the shock from her head. Sick? No. But her heart did not believe it.
“You have not been eating, girl.”
That was true. Yet she’d gotten up at dawn every morning and run, hoping the exercise-induced dopamine would suffice. She had poured herself into tutoring the students who qualified for the extended schoolyear program while she had waited to hear the results. And now …
“What’s this?” Shelly snatched the letter.
Feebly Jill tried to take it back.
Shelly stood up. “What is this?” Her face paled, her mouth hung slack. “Pre-transplant bone marrow test results? Jill! Are you dying?”
Jill dropped her face to her hands. “No,” she said flatly. “My daughter is.”
Shelly dropped her hip against the cabinet, mouth open, staring as though Jill had suddenly turned green and sprouted antennae.
“A bone marrow transplant is her only chance for cure.” Tears stung
and her throat burned. “I don’t match, Shelly.”
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