Michael's Father. Melinda Curtis

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СКАЧАТЬ along with the excited voice of a child and the crackle of bags, indicated Cori and the kid were back.

      Blake’s face settled into a disapproving frown. Why would Cori leave her mother alone on her first morning back?

      “I told you before, Michael, you cannot drink anything we bought today except the soda.” Cori peeked in the room and waved, her smile strained.

      “I like beer. I do,” the kid whined.

      Blake’s mouth fell open. The kid liked beer?

      “No, Michael, you don’t.”

      Although Cori lowered her voice, Blake still caught her words and her blush before she ducked out of the room.

      What the hell was that all about?

      Blake helped Sophia to the bathroom, then stood outside the door while she did her business. He helped her back to bed, his body rigid with tension. With her mother dying, Cori was off shopping for beer? The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. But when Blake excused himself, intending to seek out Cori to force-feed her a much-needed dose of reality, Sophia stopped him on his way to the door.

      “Don’t.”

      Blake tried to relax his taut features as he gazed down at the woman who’d taken him and Jennifer into her heart. Sophia Sinclair had to be one of the kindest, most generous women on earth. She deserved better treatment from her daughter.

      “You need her,” he said, not even pretending to misunderstand.

      “This is harder on Corinne than you think. I’ve been in her shoes, watching helplessly as my mother died. She was in school and traveling with my father when I had cancer the last time. I thought it would be easier on her.” She drew a shaky breath. “Let me decide how she helps me.”

      Okay, so maybe Sophia had spotted Blake’s irritation and suspected his reaction. She always had been one sharp lady. But this was hard on everyone, and Blake wasn’t about to shelter Cori. Sophia wanted her here, so Cori needed to stay by her side and make sure Sophia was comfortable. Blake took one purposeful stride toward the hall.

      “Promise you’ll let me handle Corinne.” Sophia’s soft words stopped Blake again.

      He looked back at the frail, dying woman. Blake wanted to make Sophia’s last days as peaceful as possible. Allowing Cori to behave irresponsibly would make things that much more difficult for everyone, especially Sophia. She was getting weaker every day—she was nearly bed-ridden—yet all Cori seemed to see was a sick woman resting in bed.

      Blake struggled with his anger for a moment before asking “Why?”

      “I have my reasons.” Sophia’s eyes closed tightly as if she were fighting an unpleasant thought. “I need you to honor my request.”

      “Of course,” Blake replied, yet he headed for Cori’s room, anyway. If he couldn’t explain to Cori how much help Sophia really needed, he could at least make her feel guilty for her behavior.

      The door to the pink room stood open and several shopping bags littered the floor. What was all this stuff? Then Blake noticed the two six-packs of expensive, imported beer on the desk.

      The kid was staring at the television while Cori opened her laptop.

      “Busy morning?” Blake asked, allowing sarcasm to weigh down his words when what he really wanted to do was raise his voice and ask her what the hell she’d been doing. But a promise to Sophia was to be honored.

      “We needed to buy something blue,” the kid said solemnly. He pulled a large blue pillow out of a bag, then wrestled it to the floor and flopped on top of it. “And buy some beer. Mommy buys a lot of beer.”

      Blake took a deep, controlling breath and searched Cori’s features carefully. Did Cori have a drinking problem? Was that why Sophia didn’t want him to interfere?

      Cori’s computer booted up with a series of beeps. Ignoring his tone, she stared at the small black machine intently, as if it might disappear if her gaze strayed. “Thank you for watching Mama. She was asleep when we left and Luke was around. Is he still here?” she asked with a nervous laugh and a quick glance up at Blake.

      “He’s not here, is he. I thought for sure he’d stay.” Cori frowned. “Okay. I’ll sit with her once I send this e-mail.”

      “If you’re up to it.” If she was sober. How did he know Cori hadn’t stopped off at some bar somewhere or had lunch and drinks while they were out? Blake considered asking her outright if she had a problem. He’d be right there to help her if she did. But being a Messina, she’d probably just hide the problem and refuse his help.

      Cori tilted her head and regarded him carefully. “Why wouldn’t I be up to it?”

      “I don’t know. It’s just that you’ve always put yourself first and I can see that hasn’t changed.” Blake kept his voice low. That first summer Cori followed him everywhere during the day although she claimed to have come home from school to work. As if going out at night with her family was work. Blake gave a snort of disgust. He’d had plenty of time over the years to analyze Cori’s behavior and pinpoint her deficiencies. In spite of her warmth and vibrancy, Cori did what she wanted when she wanted.

      Cori’s eyes dropped to the floor as though his words had the power to wound her. For a moment, his resolve wavered. After all, it was her mother dying down the hall.

      “Go ahead and send that e-mail. I’m sure it’s real important,” he added, just to see if she really was the ice princess he’d made her out to be. If she crumpled, he’d be sorry. But not sorry enough to offer her a comforting shoulder to lean on. That route led to certain disaster, no matter how strongly it beckoned.

      Cori’s eyes swept the floor, and then she gathered a shuddering breath and transformed into Mr. Messina’s granddaughter. The line of her mouth became uncharacteristically firm. Hands drew to rest on softly curved hips. Her brown eyes met his with the veneer of indifference she’d worn yesterday in the driveway.

      “Yes, I was shopping. Thank you for noticing. I do all the public relations for Nightshade. Occasionally, when I’m stuck, I like to look at their packaging. Now, if you don’t mind, I have other things to do to make sure I can pay the rent this month.”

      Because he was out of line, way off base and embarrassed beyond belief, Blake performed an abrupt about-face and exited the pink room. He slid the pocket door to the back stairs open on its silent coasters and retreated to the vineyards.

      JENNIFER SAT IN THE public library with her best friend, Shelly Broder. They were supposed to be working on their social studies project—a report on the life of Chinese teenagers—but Jen’s stomach hurt and she found it hard to concentrate. Doodles covered her lined notebook page. She pretty much lived with a knotted stomach every day. As unobtrusively as possible, she placed a hand over the button of her jeans. The pain got worse whenever she thought about Sophia.

      Shelly nudged Jen under the table and then looked pointedly toward the door of the library.

      Devon Hamlisch came in with his social studies partner and closest friend, Skyler Wight. Devon was the cutest boy in junior high school, with his short dark hair, deep blue eyes and cool swagger. His smile made Jen go all fluttery inside. Not that he smiled at Jen very СКАЧАТЬ