Always Friday (3 page)

She swallowed. “Thanks,” she said, stepping out of his reach
before she became addicted to his touch. How could a man affect her so? She’d
been engaged to David Lloyd for nearly three years, and not once had her knees
wobbled or the hairs on her neck prickled. “What kind of business are you in
back in Pittsburgh?”

“Have you ever heard of Friday Elevators?”

“Of course.” She started to say that, until two years ago,
she could have quoted from their prospectus, or she could have recalled that
the company had almost gone under some years ago but had shown a steady growth
for about the last ten. Instead, she bit her lip.

“You’re not going to say anything about business being up
and down, are you?”

Tess laughed. “No, do you get that a lot?”

“All the time.”

Ivan lumbered in with another tray, which Dan eyed
suspiciously, “No, no.” The chef waved a massive hand. “No more jalapeno juice.
Only a little cream cheese with toasted almonds and very delicate herbs.
Delicious, I promise. And the dinner I fix tonight, ahhh. If Hook doesn’t get
my Olivia back to taste it, I’ll skewer that big ox. They should be home by
now. Do you think they have trouble? Ach,” he said, slapping his forehead with
the heel of his hand, “I should never have trusted my love’s safekeeping to
that criminal.”

“Now Ivan,” Tess said, “you know that Hook would guard the
ladies with his life.”

“So you say, but I”—he patted his chest—“Ivan Petkov, say:
Never trust a man with a gold tooth.”

Noticing Dan’s frown, Tess said, “Don’t mind Ivan. He and
Hook have been feuding for fifteen years. Hook is completely reliable and
devoted to my aunt.”

“Bah! He fools her to keep from going back to prison.”

Daniel choked on his Scotch. “
Prison
?” He could feel
new bile added to the fire piercing his gut. What kind of a madhouse was Gram
living in? Maybe Kathy was right to be concerned.

Tess glared at Ivan, turned to Dan, and waved her hand
dismissively. “Oh, that was a long time ago.”

“What was he in prison for?” Dan tried to make his question
casual, but he could feel the blood draining from his face.

Tess shrugged. “The first time he was in a bar fight.
Manslaughter, I think it was. He was very young. Barely eighteen.”

“The first time? There’s more?”

She sighed and glared at Ivan again. “The second time was
for armed robbery.”

“My God!” Daniel felt a searing stab in his solar plexus and
he clutched his hand to his stomach.

“We’re home,” a bass voice rumbled.

Daniel looked up to see his grandmother and another older
woman. Standing in the doorway behind them, his slick bald head nearly touching
the top of the frame, was a giant of a man. Built like a heavyweight wrestler
with leg breaking on his mind, his bulk filled the opening. A thick scar
creased his ebony cheek from the corner of his left eye to his chin. A gold
front tooth winked from his broad grin.

“Gram—” Dan took two steps toward the short, gray-haired
lady. A piercing pain shot through his head, a faint, shrill static filled his
ears, and the world faded away.

It was almost dawn. Tess sat beside the hospital bed
watching clear liquid from a suspended bag drip slowly into the chamber which
fed the long tube of Dan’s IV. She’d been sitting in a straight chair, holding
his hand, since he’d been transferred from intensive care the evening before.

Twice during the long night she had gotten up to go to the
bathroom and ease the kinks from her body, but Dan had become so restless when
her hand left his that she quickly settled back beside him.

“I’m here,” she’d whispered, and when her fingers touched
his once more, he’d squeezed her hand and slipped into a quiet sleep.

With her free hand, Tess took a sip of the coffee a
thoughtful nurse had provided, and her eyes scanned the face that had become so
familiar during her long vigil. She had memorized every dip and plane from
tousled hair to strong jaw. Not even the little freckle at the corner of his
lower lip had escaped her notice.

Though he still seemed pale beneath the sandy stubble of
whiskers, his color was better. Sleep smoothed the furrows of his forehead and
relaxed the hard set of his mouth.

In the past few hours a strange bond had grown between them.
She felt it, the strength of it, the absolute rightness of it, deep within her.
A fierce possessiveness tugged at her heart and swelled her throat. Daniel
Friday was hers. She knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise over the Gulf
of Mexico. Fate, with a little push from Aunt Martha, had brought him to Galveston,
to her. He needed to recapture old dreams and to learn the meaning of real joy.
Knowing, accepting, Tess smiled. She’s been waiting for someone like Dan for a
long time. Though she suspected he would rather die than admit it, he needed
someone like her. No, he needed
her
.

Dan’s eyelids fluttered open. He blinked, frowned, and
looked at her. “Tess?”

“Good morning,” she said.

“Morning.” The husky reply was an automatic response as he
continued to frown at his surroundings. “I thought I dreamed you,” he murmured,
then licked his lips. “My mouth is so dry.”

She helped him take a sip of water. “Feeling a little
disoriented?” He nodded. “You’re in John Sealy Hospital in Galveston. You’ve
been very ill.”

His eyebrows came together. “What are you talking about? I’m
never sick.” His words were slurred from the aftereffects of the medication. “And
I haven’t been in a hospital since I had my appendix out when I was twelve.
What happened?”

“You fainted and—”

“Fainted?” His indignation woke him up.

Tess tried to keep the amusement from her voice.

“Sorry, you, uh, passed out in our living room. Luckily, a
doctor who lives next door was home. Dr. Ed—Ed Shafer, he’s an internist—called
an ambulance. Things were shaky for a while, but you’re going to be just fine.”
She patted his hand.

“What was wrong with me?”

“A gastric ulcer.”

“An
ulcer
?”

She nodded. “A bad one. And maybe some other stuff. They’ve
been running tests.”

“Good God!” He looked chagrined. “What time is it?”

Tess turned the hand he still held to look at her watch. “It’s
six forty-three in the morning.”

Dan withdrew his hand and started to get up. “I’ve got to
get out of here.”

“Whoa, tiger.” Tess pressed his shoulders back on the bed
and motioned toward the IV with her head. “You’re not going anywhere until the
doctor says so. You’re still hooked up and as weak as a newborn.”

“I’ve got to get back to Pittsburgh.”

“What’s so wonderful about Pittsburgh? I’ve been there a
couple of times, and, frankly, I think Galveston is much better for your
health.”

Straining against her hold, he scowled and said as if
speaking to a child, “I have an important meeting scheduled with the board of
directors. It’s crucial that I attend.”

Tess pursed her lips and slowly shook her head. “The meeting
was day before yesterday. Kathy said to tell you that she took charge and
everything went fine.”

He slumped against the pillow and threaded his fingers
through his hair. “My God, what day is it? How long have I been here?”

“It’s Wednesday, and you’ve been here almost four days. The
first two days you were in intensive care. Dan, you’ve really been very ill.”

“Obviously I’m better now. Where are my clothes? I’ve got to
get back to work.”

“Not unless you’re anxious to die,” a gruff voice said from
the doorway. A stocky, balding man with a stethoscope in the pocket of his
white coat strode into the room.

Tess offered him a bright smile, got up, and pecked him on
the cheek. “Good morning, Dr. Ed.” To Dan she said, “This is Dr. Ed Shafer, our
neighbor who saved your life. He’s head of the internal medicine faculty at the
University of Texas Medical Branch. If you had to get sick, you picked a good
place for it. We have one of the finest health care facilities in the country.”

“I’ll remember that,” Dan grumbled at her. “Dr. Shafer, I
appreciate your care. Now, when may I get out of here? I have a company to run.”

The doctor pulled another chair close to the bed and sat
down. “Mr. Friday, I believe we need to talk about your plans. You were
unconscious when we brought you in Saturday night, so I talked to several
people in an effort to obtain your medical history—including your physician in Pittsburgh,
who I understand hasn’t seen you in four years. Your grandmother and your
sister both told me the same thing: they said you were killing yourself running
that company of yours. They may be right. You have gastritis and a severe
gastric ulcer.”

“I thought that ulcers weren’t considered such a big deal
anymore,” Dan said.

“Not so. Many, in fact most, ulcers are caused by bacteria
and easily treated with antibiotics, but your tests showed no signs of that
being the case. The second most common culprit is certain drugs. Your sister
tells me that you take a lot of aspirin and other over-the-counter drugs. May I
ask why?”

Dan frowned. “I have headaches.”

“Frequent? Severe?”

Dan glanced at Tess.

She stood quickly. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go to
the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.”

When Tess was gone, Dan nodded. “I have frequent, severe
headaches.”

“Your sister indicated that to me. We’ve done an MRI and
several other tests. There’s no organic cause that we can determine. No tumors
or abnormalities. We’ll do other tests, but I suspect from the history I’ve
gathered that yours are the result of extreme and prolonged stress. I can’t
emphasize the seriousness of your condition enough. The kind of stress you’ve
subjected yourself to can be fatal.”

Daniel looked incredulous. “I’ve never heard of anyone dying
from a headache.”

“It’s not the headache. The headache is a symptom. Your
blood pressure is elevated. You’ve developed a serious gastric ulcer. You can’t
continue as you have been. You’re tortured with headaches, and you’ve almost
eaten a hole in your stomach.”

“What do you recommend? Surgery? Medication? A special diet?”

“Surgery is not indicated at this time. Proper monitoring,
medication, a special diet, yes. But more important than that is rest and a
complete change in life-style. I would suggest that you take off three months,
six months—a year would be best—and forget about your business. Go off to an
island somewhere, lie in a hammock in the sun, and watch the tide come in. Reassess
your life and your goals.”

“Dr. Shafer, I can’t take that kind of time away from the
company. It’s out of the question. People depend on me. I have to return to Pittsburgh
right away.

The doctor rose. “Then, Mr. Friday, you should get your
affairs in order and select your pallbearers.” He turned and left the room.

Dan heard the door open again and smelled Tess’s perfume as
she entered, sat down in the chair beside his bed, and touched his shoulder.

Stunned by the doctor’s parting salvo, Daniel still stared
at the ceiling. His hand closed automatically over the fine-boned one that was
offered. Was his condition as serious as Dr. Shafer had painted it, or was he
using scare tactics to . . . to what? Why should the man lie?

Could Daniel afford to be away from the company for six
months or a year? As vice president, the entire load would fall on Kathy. Could
his baby sister handle it? Even though she was always complaining about his
methods, lecturing him about delegating authority, badgering him to give her
more responsibility, he’d always done everything he could to protect her and
make things easier for her. Lord, he couldn’t burden her with the ordeal of
running Friday Elevators for even three months. He wouldn’t wish that fate on
the devil himself, much less the sister he loved.

Yet, if things were as serious as the doctor claimed, what
were his options? Ted, his younger brother, was a promising playwright; all he
knew about the business was that its stock’s dividends kept him afloat in these
early, lean years of his career. If Daniel died, the responsibility would be
dumped on Kathy permanently. He shuddered at the thought of her having to deal
with the hell he’d endured over the past twelve years.

At least Kathy was older than Daniel had been when the task
of rebuilding the company that was near bankruptcy had fallen on his shoulders.
He had just received his degree in architecture and had accepted a plum job
with an outstanding firm. When his father died, he had abandoned his dream to
pull the business out of the red. It had been a nightmare; it was still a
nightmare, but the security of his family had always come first and, as the
oldest son, the responsibility was his.

Certainly, with a Master’s in business management, Kathy was
better prepared to run a business than he’d been. Perhaps she could manage
Friday Elevators for a few weeks.

A month. He’d give himself a month. If he called the office
every day and moved Chuck Stanley in as Kathy’s assistant, maybe she could keep
things going for that long. It seemed there was no other choice.

Strangely, Daniel felt relieved.

“But where am I going to find an island and a hammock?” he
mused aloud.

“Galveston is an island,” Tess said, a slow grin breaking
across her face. “And I think there’s a hammock stashed somewhere in the
garage. You can stay with us.”

His frown returned. “I can’t stay with you.”

“And why not? We have lots of room. It’s perfect. Aunt
Martha will love it. She needs someone to fuss over.” Tess didn’t add that his
staying in Galveston would be the answer to her own prayers.

Dan turned on his corporate persona full force. “It’s out of
the question. I’ll buy Gram a condo in Florida and she can fuss over me there.”