Undone by the Star (5 page)

In the meantime, arrangements had to be made. “Helen,” Alex asked, “could you alert the front desk, please. We need to let Cyril know what’s going on before word gets out. And Grannie’s friend…,” Alex frowned, forcing herself to concentrate, not to be distracted by the thin, cold fingers clutching her own. “Mrs. Taylor. Have Cyril arrange a car for her if she still wants to go on to the luncheon.”

The woman waited, phone-in-hand. “I think,” Alex went on, “he should merely say that Grannie is a bit under the weather.”

A soft sigh drew Alex’s attention. She looked down to see her grandmother watching her. “You handled that very well. Claudia Taylor can be a terrible gossip.”

Alex felt her throat well up. “Honestly, Grannie. You shouldn’t be eavesdropping.”

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll be fine. Just tripped on the rug…” her voice trailed away.

Alex looked up to see Helen heading for the door. The ambulance must have arrived. There was a flurry of movement and then two men entered with a stretcher and equipment.

“The paramedics are here,” Alex whispered, giving her Grannie’s hand a light squeeze. Then she got to her feet and stepped back to give them room.

She felt helpless, standing to one side as the paramedics spoke to her grandmother gently and checked her vital signs. Alex provided whatever information they asked for, but there was nothing she could really do other than accompany her grandmother to the hospital. They rode down in the large service elevator and went out the back way to avoid staring eyes. The staff could be relied upon to make sure everything at The Sadler ran smoothly in their absence.

Grannie might be as tough as nails, but this was a harsh reminder, Alex realized, of just how old and frail her grandmother really was.

This was the last flat he would look at that afternoon, Marc decided as he entered the white-stuccoed townhouse and bounded up the stairs. Thea Gosnell, his estate agent, trotted in his wake.

It wasn’t her fault that her voice was beginning to grate; she was just doing her job, trying to remain chipper in spite of her client’s reluctance to join in the conversation. But after six viewings – Marc was done.

Or, so he thought until he stepped into the flat’s impressive foyer.

“…as you can see,” Thea was saying, “this second-floor flat offers a large reception room, dining room and gourmet kitchen, as well as three bedrooms. Its period features are truly exquisite...of particular note,” she droned on, “are the Georgian fireplaces.”

Actually, thought Marc, tuning out the agent’s patter as his gaze roamed about the empty rooms, Thea was right. This flat did have everything he wanted, hardwood floors, high ceilings and enough space that he could use one of the bedrooms as his office. But what he liked most of all was that it gave him a blank canvas.

Thea had gone quiet.

Marc spun round. She was standing right behind him. “I like it,” he said.

Thea glowed. She had purposely saved the best property for last, Marc realized, knowing it was the jewel in her current crop of listings and the one he was most likely to favour. But then she was the agent Alex had recommended, back when she still liked him.

Marc let out a sigh. Thoughts of Alexis Kirkwood had been clouding his mind all day. He should be making a decision, right here, right now, but all he could think about was Alex.
Was he being naïve, Marc wondered, or could it be that he was falling in love? How else to explain why every single flat he’d visited that day had been weighed against what Alex might think of it, which one she might prefer.

Is that how one felt when it was the real deal?

He would never know if he didn’t apologize to her. And the sooner, the better.

Thea’s voice broke through his reverie. “What would you like to do, Mr. Daniels? There are other offers pending.”

“I’ll have to get back to you,” said Marc, holding out his hand. “There’s someone I have to see first.”

A few minutes later, with yet another of Thea’s business cards – this one with her personal number written on the back – tucked in his pocket, Marc was heading towards Kensington High Street.

Within six blocks, he’d passed three coffee shops, a wine merchant, two green grocers and a classic British pub, its black and gilt sign beckoning him inside for a pint. That alone was enough to clinch the deal, grinned Marc as he reached the high street.

He rounded the busy corner, melding into the teeming mass of pedestrians crowding the pavement as if he did it every day.

It felt wonderful.

And, unlike his trip to the antique hall with Alex, everybody was going about their business, and leaving him to mind his own. That, Marc decided, was the way it should be. With a rush of exuberance, he vowed he would never let his celebrity dictate his life again.

Leaving the congestion and the roar of the traffic behind, Marc followed the flowered walkway into Hyde Park. There were splashes of colour everywhere he looked, pinks, purples, and yellows, and in the distance, he could see Queen Victoria’s gilded memorial to her beloved Albert.

And Marc had thought his life was public! He knew he couldn’t undo the fact that he was a star, but changes could, and would, be made. Starting today.

With Alex. He had already blown it with her twice, first as Marc the fake plumber and then as Marc Daniels the movie star. Up until that point, the attraction between them had been very, very real. But would it be enough, he wondered, to make up for his behaviour?

Marc kicked at a stray stone in his path.

And then felt churlish. He was the most fortunate of men. He stopped to watch a grey squirrel take a peanut from an old man sitting on a bench. He had a plastic shopping bag at his feet, presumably full of peanuts, because once the first one disappeared, the squirrel waited in expectation for another.

“Do you come here often?” asked Marc as he drew nearer.

“Every day.” The man set out another peanut.

It was an enjoyable pantomime. After a half-dozen peanuts, the grey squirrel leapt down and scampered into the nearby bushes, only to be replaced by another one.

Marc started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “Okay if I bring some peanuts next time?” he asked. The man on the bench gave him a shy smile. Marc continued on his way, his step lighter than it had been for days. This was what he had been missing, the small exchanges and casual encounters of a normal life. He paused briefly at the Albert Memorial to watch a group of kids playing soccer in the distance, their shouts travelling across the grass towards him as they chased the ball, and each other.

Decision made.

Marc pulled Thea’s card from his pocket and started walking as he dialled her number.

“Thea?” he said. “Let’s make it official.” She laughed excitedly in his ear, and five minutes later, the flat was his.

Next stop, The Sadler. He jogged the rest of the way, his mind filled with images of Alex in those high-ceilinged rooms, scenting the air with her subtle perfume, chasing away the empty echoes with her soft laugh. Given the way he and Alex had last parted, it was a bit of a stretch, but Marc didn’t care. Because he could picture her curled up in a big, comfy chair, wearing something soft and a bit revealing, looking up at him from her book, a welcoming smile curving her lips. And until she said otherwise, he was free to dream.

His pace had slowed by the time he reached Green Park, but the smile remained. Even if Alex insisted they address each other as Miss Kirkwood and Mr. Daniels, it would be okay with him, because all that mattered was that they be friends.

Running up The Sadler’s front steps, Marc nodded to the doorman and entered, his gaze anxiously sweeping the lobby. But Alex was nowhere to be seen. Jeremy, her youthful admirer, manned the concierge desk. The young woman at reception looked up, tilted her head and gave him a flirtatious smile. Like an automaton, he smiled back, dismissing her as an information source. That left the boy wonder.

“Can I help you, Mr. Daniels?” Jeremy half-rose from the desk.

“I need to have a word with Miss Kirkwood,” Marc said, keeping his tone neutral. He was, after all, just another guest of the hotel. “Is she available?”

“No…can I help you?” The words tumbled out too quickly.

Marc read the moment and the anxiety written on the young man’s face. He pressed harder. “When will she be back?”

“I…um…I don’t know,” Jeremy faltered. Marc leaned in closer. “She’s gone to the hospital,” Jeremy blurted.

Panic flooded Marc. “Why? What’s happened?”

Jeremy glanced around, obviously torn between his desire to be helpful and the need to be discreet. “Miss Sadler had an accident,” he said in a sotto voice. “They took her by ambulance to St. Thomas’…Alex, I mean Miss Kirkwood, went with her. But that was hours ago. We haven’t heard anything since.”

Marc froze. All his carefully rehearsed apologies trickled into nothing. If Alex’s grandmother was in trouble, then so was Alex.

Turning away, Marc strode outside and hailed a cab.

Alex needed him.

Alex sat by her grandmother’s bedside watching the elderly woman’s thin chest lightly rise and fall beneath the warmed flannel blanket. She tried to ignore the soft pings of the monitors tracking every beat of her grandmother’s heart, but at the same time, she drew comfort from them.

Grannie had always seemed indestructible.

And now, with her ankle wrapped and slightly elevated, she slept fitfully, eyelids fluttering in response to the bursts of conversation and rattling of carts in the corridor outside her hospital room.

Alex took a deep, shuddering breath and held it hard. No matter how shaken and frightened she still felt after their terrifying rush to the hospital and then the long wait for x-rays to be taken and decisions to be made, she was determined not to cry. If Grannie woke up and saw her granddaughter in tears, it might upset her, might make her think she was worse off than she really was.

Alex desperately wanted to call Marc, but her feelings were so muddled after what had happened on Saturday, she didn’t know what to do. She barely knew him, but her heart was telling her that was a lie.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and a diminutive woman entered the room, a stethoscope draped about the collar of her white jacket. “Miss Kirkwood? I’m Dr. Patel.” She held out her hand.

Alex jumped to her feet and clasped the doctor’s hand in a brief shake. “Alex Kirkwood. How is my grandmother?”

They turned as one towards the bed where Eugenie Sadler lay sleeping.

“Considering her age, I’d say she’s doing very well.” Dr. Patel lowered her voice. “The fracture was straightforward. In fact, if she were a younger woman, she would likely go home today.”

Alex found the doctor’s comments hard to take in. “But she hasn’t even woken up yet.”

“That’s because we had to give her a mild sedative and muscle relaxant. Which made it easier to manipulate the bones.” Dr. Patel laid a reassuring hand on Alex’s forearm. “It was a clean break. We felt surgery was an unnecessary risk.”

Given her grandmother’s unnaturally white face and the IV bruising on her frail hand, Alex was thankful. “How long do you think she’ll sleep?”

“A little while longer,” said Dr. Patel as she rounded the hospital bed and checked her patient’s pulse. “She’s on painkillers as well,” she added, her eyes straying briefly to watch the steady ping of the heartbeat monitor. “But we’ll know better in the morning.”

“Is she…is she in any danger, otherwise?” asked Alex. “They did so many tests.”

Dr. Patel picked up the chart hanging at the end of the bed and scanned it. “I don’t anticipate any complications. Tests are done as a matter of course when a patient is older.” The doctor paused. “Once the fracture heals, your grandmother should be just fine.”

“That’s good news, thank you,” Alex managed.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries and then Dr. Patel left the room.

Alex returned to her grandmother’s side. Frailty aside, she really was a strong woman. Other than a few quiet moans she couldn’t hide, she had not uttered a word of complaint. In the emergency ward, she had lain on the hard gurney with hands primly folded on her stomach, staring at the ceiling while she waited. Only when her bed was bumped slightly as the attendant wheeled her to x-ray, had Grannie let out a low gasp of pain, and even then she’d felt the need to apologize.

“I should be so brave,” whispered Alex as she leaned over the bed, and dropped a kiss her grandmother’s forehead.

Time to update her parents. Alex propped open the door to her grandmother’s room, then walked the few steps to the end of the corridor. It was now nine o’clock in Vancouver.

Her father picked up on the first ring. “How is she?”

“Resting comfortably, according to the doctor. They were able to set the bone without surgery.”

“That’s terrific…here, your mother wants to speak to you….”

Alex listened as her parents talked in the background and then Olivia Kirkwood came on the line. “Hi, sweetheart. Are they sure she’ll be okay?”

“Dr. Patel seems to think so,” Alex replied. She told her mother everything that had happened; what the doctor had said, and reassured her that Grannie wouldn’t be discharged until they were certain she was ready to go home. “I’ll arrange for Helen to stay with Grannie.”

“Good idea. But you will call immediately if there’s any change.”

“Absolutely.” Alex heard her mother clear her throat on the other end of the line. It wasn’t easy for her being so far away, but they were retired now, free to travel and to spend more time at Whistler where Alex’s younger brother, James, was a ski instructor.

“Can you tell Jamie for me?” Alex asked. “I’d probably blubber in his ear.”

“And I won’t?”
said her mother. They shared a brief laugh and then Olivia Kirkwood’s tone went into serious mode. “Your grandmother is a trooper, Alex, but you do know what this means, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Alex stared out the window. Taking charge of the family business had always been her destiny. It was all she’d ever wanted to do, ever since she was a little girl. She’d had the full support of her family, but to have her dream come true because of her grandmother’s advancing age was a reality she preferred not to face.