The Unsung Hero by Suzanne Brockmann Page A

and . . . She took a deep breath and tried to pretend she wasn’t blushing. Whipped cream and Tom Paoletti. My God. Somebody come take her order. She wanted a double.
    “You think it’s a no-chance scenario,” she argued. “But what if Joe had actually met his dream woman? His true love?”
    Tom shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe he did.” But even that was too strong an admission for him, and he tried to back away from it. “Look, Kel, all I really know for sure is whatever Joe felt, it had to be pretty powerful if it made him prefer to spend nearly sixty years of his life alone rather than settle for someone he didn’t really love. And we’re talking alone alone,” he added. “Joe didn’t have girlfriends, he didn’t have lady friends, he didn’t go out to bars and have one-night stands. He was Alone, with a capital A. No black lingerie. No whipped cream. Just Joe and his memories.”
    God, that was sad. Had Joe simply quit looking at age twenty-two? Or did he hold on to hope for years, hope that he’d find someone to replace the woman he’d loved? If so, that hope had surely died slowly, painfully.
    “In a lot of ways, I can understand his not wanting to settle,” Tom said quietly. “There’re a lot of things in my life I wouldn’t be willing to settle for.”
    Kelly’s pager went off. She’d set it on silent when she went into the library, and the shaking made her jump. She checked the number.
    “I’m sorry,” she said to Tom as she dug through her purse for her cell phone. “I have to call my office.”
    She dialed the number, turning slightly away from him. “Hi, this is Dr. Ashton. I was just paged.”
    “Doctor, I’m sorry to disturb you.” It was Pat Geary. “But the McKenna test results finally came in.”
    Kelly closed her eyes. “Please tell me it’s some kind of weird anemia.”
    “No such luck. It’s about as bad as it gets,” Pat said grimly. “Brenda McKenna’s pretty anxious for the results. Should I call her back, schedule a meeting for tomorrow?”
    “No, better make it today,” Kelly decided. “And call Dr. Martin. Let’s get Betsy in to see the oncologist as soon as possible.”
    “So much for your vacation.”
    “It’s not a vacation, it’s a temporary partial leave.”
    “Well, for someone who’s taking temporary partial leave, you’re sure here nearly all the time.”
    “Schedule the meeting with the McKennas for about an hour from now,” Kelly told her assistant. “I’m on my way in.”
    She closed her phone and grabbed her keys from her purse before she realized. Her father. She swore and opened her cell phone again to call Pat back.
    But Tom was already one step ahead of her. “I was going from here to pick up some paint from Home Depot,” he told her, “but that’s a pretty low priority. If you want, I’ll stay with your father.”
    “You don’t need to change your plans,” Kelly said, “but if you wouldn’t mind checking in on him when you get home . . .”
    “No problem,” Tom said. “Think he’d be up for a game of chess?”
    “Oh, God, that would be so nice. I’m sure he’d love it.”
    “Is there a number where I can reach you? I mean, I probably won’t need it, but . . .”
    Kelly dug through her purse for her business card. “This has my office number—a direct line to my desk—and my pager, too. Please don’t hesitate to call. And don’t feel as if you need to stay with him the entire time. Just stick your head in every now and then.”
    “Don’t sweat it,” Tom said. “It’s not going to be a hardship. Believe it or not, I like the guy. And maybe if I’m lucky, there’ll be a Red Sox game on, and I’ll be able to get Joe to sit in the same room with him without fighting.”
    Kelly had to hold on to herself to keep from hugging him. “If you can manage to do that, I’ll love you forever. And if you can get them to make up and be friends and stop fighting for good . . . I’ll bring home some whipped