His Golden Heart (14 page)

Snorting loudly, Reggie lumbered to his feet and heaped his plate full. When he was seated across from her, she asked, “What was it Beau wanted?”

“I’m not sure. I think he was feeling me out. He wanted to see if I was really interested in volunteering. He says we’ll talk in person and that we should stop by this Sunday. Since it’s easier for me to get around he wants me to come to his house and fill out paperwork. He asked if we liked horseback riding.” Reggie swallowed a mouthful of pasta. “The guy’s weird. You think the accident went to his head?”

Shayna laughed at her brother’s assessment of Beau.

“Not weird, just different. Beau’s an original thinker.”

“You always stick up for him. Do you two have something going on?”

“No,” Shayna said, though a part of her wished they did.

Trust Reggie to call it as he saw it. She hoped he didn’t see the telltale signs of heat flooding her cheeks. “It was nice of Beau to invite you to ride,” she said.

“Us,” Reggie corrected.

“Whatever. It will give you a chance to get to know each other. He’s an interesting man. His legs may no longer function but there isn’t a thing wrong with his mind.”

“I was planning on playing basketball this weekend,” Reggie grumbled.

“You can still play basketball. Just bear in mind you need extra credits to graduate. And you need to stay out of trouble.”

“Right, like that would make a difference.”

Shayna heard the catch in his voice. The stress was starting to get to him.

“You can’t give up hope, Reggie.”

“Why not? I’m a young black male. That means I’m trouble. White women clutch their purses, and cross the street when they see me.” He continued to shovel food into his mouth, the idea obviously bothering him.

“Maybe volunteering at Beau’s will help you,” Shayna said carefully. “He’s well respected and you would be providing a much needed service.”

“So that’s why you insist I work for him? You think if I volunteer at Hill Of Dreams, I might get off?”

“That’s not guaranteed, Reggie, but working there will keep you out of trouble.”

Reggie still didn’t know about the connection between Beau and Ed Anderson. He would go ballistic if he knew that they were father and son, and that she’d knowingly chosen to associate with Beau. There wouldn’t be a prayer in the world of him volunteering at Hill Of Dreams. She’d also hoped that if Beau got to know Reggie he would recognize that under the bluster was just a frightened little boy. Maybe he’d use his influence to come to an equitable solution for all. Even if Reggie was placed on probation or assigned community service, it was better than going to jail.

“If I volunteer at that homeless persons’ center it doesn’t mean the judge would be lenient,” Reggie said, voicing what Shayna refused to even think about

“Hill Of Dreams doesn’t just cater to homeless people,” she corrected.

“Could have fooled me. The place seems to have more than its share of displaced homeys. I don’t understand why no one believes me. I didn’t beat up some old lady, nor did I steal her possessions.”

Shayna believed him even if the rest of the world didn’t. He was a typical teenager and hadn’t exercised good judgment He hung around with the wrong crowd and had been a magnet for trouble. There’d been that group of boys in Seattle he’d hung with who stole cars and joyrode them out of boredom. Next had been the crowd of thugs who sold herb to their buddies and anyone else willing to buy. The final straw came when Reggie had been picked up for shoplifting a couple of comics, and a handful of candy bars. The sum total being less than ten dollars. He’d had plenty of money on him. The shopkeeper knew the Da Costas and had declined pressing charges. But the embarrassment had almost killed them. Her parents had kept Reggie on a short leash until he’d been sent off to Shayna’s.

“So you’re telling me Beau Hill might be my savior, that’s why you’re so chummy with the guy? He’s a patient. Didn’t you always tell me business and pleasure don’t mix?”

“They don’t.”

Reggie rose and taking his empty plate with him went to stick in the dishwasher. It was the first time since coming to live with her that he’d done that. It must be a good omen. “I hate it when you treat me like a child,” he sulked.

“You believe that a few hours of volunteering is going to make a jury look favorably on me. Know what I think? I think you’re just using me to get close to Beau Hill. That stinks.”

Shayna cut her eyes at him. He was starting to get on her nerves. “You are a child,” she said. “One that’s costing this family a lot of money.” She’d never spoken to him so sharply.

Reggie’s eyes practically popped out of his head. The veins on the sides of his neck bulged. His temper was well known. Shayna braced herself for the explosion but his voice came out deadly quiet.

“Everyone makes mistakes, Shayna,” he said, sounding for once like the adult he was on the verge of becoming. “You made a whopper with Michael, but no one keeps throwing that in your face.” He stomped off, muttering something about her expecting too much of him.

Chapter Twelve

“You’ll never guess who’s been trying to get in touch with you.” David’s voice boomed through the receiver, forcing Beau to hold the earpiece several inches away.

“Not Chandra?”

Beau was just about to wrap up an interview with a caregiver, and the phone call had come at an inconvenient time. He signaled to Mark, a young blond man, that he would be only a moment.

David guffawed in his ear. “Nah. Your ex has been otherwise occupied. Even you must read the paper. This morning’s feature was a doozie.”

Beau hadn’t seen the morning paper. He’d scheduled this interview first thing, and right after this, he was heading off to the rehabilitation center for aquatic therapy.

“What’s Chandra up to?” Beau asked, curiosity actually getting the better of him.

David snickered. “Looks like you’ve been publicly dumped, my boy, replaced by Santana, the Bellissima heir. You might think of your engagement as off but the public doesn’t know that. This morning’s paper was filled with pictures of your ex and Franco looking mighty cozy. The caption read
‘Heir to the Bellissima fortune negotiates another successful merger.’
There’s speculation an announcement is in the works.”

“What kind of an announcement?”

Beau’s sharp tone got the attention of the candidate seated across from him. The man studiously examined his nails and pretended not to listen.

“An engagement. Wouldn’t that be quite the coup for scheming old Chandra? Got to give the woman credit, under that beautiful exterior has always been a good business head.”

“She’s not dumb, that’s for sure.”

Beau tried not to sound sour but it did hurt. Not because his feelings ran deep for Chandra, but because his ego was taking a pummeling. No one liked to be used. Chandra had most likely targeted Franco Santana for the same reason she’d initially targeted him. From the PR end of things, Franco would be good for her career and would keep her in the public eye. It didn’t hurt that financially she wouldn’t have to worry for the rest of her life. God bless them both. The match was made in fragrance hell.

Beau signaled to Mark that he would be another couple of minutes. His attention returned to David. “So who’s trying to get in touch with me?”

“One of your old teammates.”

“And that would be…?”

“Joshua Vanderhorn”

Beau frowned. What would Joshua want with him after all this time? He hadn’t heard hide nor hair from him since the accident. But given they’d never been friends, that was hardly surprising. They’d been civil for the sake of the United States ski team. Both men were from vastly different worlds. Joshua came from old money. A snob from the word
go
. He was blessed with one of those handsome, aristocrat faces, and an athletic body that had women drooling for miles. You could easily picture Joshua with skis slung over his shoulders, blue eyes peering from under a headband. Perfect for commercials. Except Joshua would never sink that low and sully the family name. The Vanderhorns would have a cow. Commercials and endorsements were for the lower classes, skiers like Beau.

From the moment he’d qualified for the ski team, Beau had sensed Joshua’s dislike of him. Dislike was probably too strong a word. Disdain or disapproval was more fitting. Joshua would never have expected to ski with the likes of Beau. Skiing wasn’t the typical black person’s sport. Joshua’s exposure to blacks was limited to what he saw on TV and he tended to treat Beau like the stereotype. Beau belonged on a basketball court, not on the slopes.

Curiosity prompted Beau to ask, “What did Joshua want?”

“Your home number. Says he just got back from Europe. He meant to call you before, but things got crazy. Yada, yada. You know how he goes on. Now he claims he has something to discuss with you.”

“Go ahead and give it to him.”

“Why? You sure you want to do this, Beau?” His agent sounded skeptical.

David knew him too well. No, he wasn’t sure he wanted Joshua to have his number. But he did want to know what was going on.

Beau hung up to find Mark’s eyes on him. He managed a smile and quickly apologized. This candidate had come with excellent recommendations but Beau no longer felt he needed him. His coordination had improved remarkably and the strength in his arms had increased. He was even able to take care of his personal hygiene and could almost dress himself. Therapy with Shayna was obviously paying off. Hiring an aide would mean that he wasn’t self-sufficient, that he might never walk again, much less ski. What did William Rudolph, the three-time Olympic gold medalist, say?
“My mother taught me very early to believe I could achieve any accomplishment I wanted to. The first was to walk without braces.”

And Beau meant to walk again, maybe even ski.

Beau smiled at the thought of what Shayna would say if she knew that a quote from this book of hers had popped into his head. Would she understand why he was reluctant to hire an aide? Would she support his choice not to? He’d ask her later.

“I do want to thank you for your time,” Beau said, turning his attention back to Mark and shaking the young man’s hand firmly. “I’ll get back to you. You’re very well qualified for the post of personal assistant.”

Personal assistant sounded a heck of a lot better than aide. Aide conjured up stark white hospital walls and smells of disinfectant. Pain and despair rather than hope. He was growing maudlin.

Mark stood, briefcase in hand. “What’s the time frame, sir? I do have another offer.”

“I’ll let you have my decision within the week. I’ll phone your agency.”

“I’d appreciate that”

“Towanda,” Beau called, “Will you please show Mark out.”

“I’d be happy to,” Victoria said, materializing from some invisible place. Beau wondered if she’d been listening. “Towanda’s running an errand for me,” she said, escorting Mark out.

When she returned, she eyed Beau’s designer pullover and pressed chinos. “You’re dressed to go to the center? Didn’t you say you had aquatic aerobics or some New Age workout?”

“It’s called aquatic therapy, Mom, and I’ll be changing when I get there.”

Victoria raised both eyebrows. “I see. But until then there’s someone you want to impress?”

Beau refused to acknowledge the snide remark. His mother was clearly over the sympathy phase. A few weeks of living with him had done that to her. Now she even ribbed him about his disability. In a couple of days she’d be relieved by his sister, Kelly, so she could return to her real estate business and clients. Much as Beau hated to admit it, he would miss her.

Twenty minutes later they were seated in the van heading toward Denver Rehabilitation Center. The windows were open and a crisp breeze blew in.

Victoria took her eyes off the road briefly. “Did you see this morning’s paper?” she asked.

“Should I have?” It seemed as if everyone was bent on telling him about Chandra.

“You had to have heard that your young lady’s dating another man,” Victoria said carefully.

“Good for her.”

His mother tossed another questioning glance his way. “I take it that doesn’t bother you?”

Beau sighed loudly. “Sure, my ego’s taking a beating and I’m disappointed that I could be so easily replaced in her affections, but I’m not heartbroken. I guess it wasn’t love.”

“Imagine that,” Victoria muttered. “A man mistaking lust for love?” A car tooted behind them. The driver eventually changed lanes. “Apparently I’m going too slow for him.”

Conversation lagged. A few minutes later Beau brought up the topic again. “You never did like Chandra.”

“I didn’t dislike her. I just thought you two weren’t well suited. May I be frank?”

“Why ruin an impeccable track record?”

“You should be with someone like your therapist. Shayna’s got a good sense of self. She’s tough but charming. You’d be able to count on her when the chips are down. And she’s cute as a button. I just wish I could remember where I’d seen her before.”

He and Shayna together, an impossible thought. After the first couple of dates they’d most likely kill each other. Best not to address that issue and just let it go. “Could Shayna have come into your real estate place looking for an apartment?” Beau asked.