But guilt edged in, as she recalled the recent change in Presley Ann’s demeanor. She’d jumped at the chance to work in the temporary prom headquarters they’d set up that morning, and had seemed happy about the prospect of extra hours. Maybe talking with her would be a chance to find out what was going on.
She’d been looking pale of late. Although Leah didn’t feel particularly close to Presley Ann, she didn’t want her to be sick either. But then again, it might just be that her latest boyfriend had dumped her and she wanted a shoulder to cry on…again. That was probably it. Same song, different verse. Sighing, she looked down at her sister and was about to nod but was distracted by the front doorbell.
Despite her attempts to ignore it, excitement shot up her spine when she recognized the two men who had just entered. Two more of the persistent Elder bothers. James and Vincent. They scanned the store and then spotted her on the ladder. Her heart thumped as she recalled the warm, quick kiss Patterson had given her earlier. Lord, if anything could convince her to give those three men a chance it was kisses like that one. The memory of his warm lips on hers made them tingle.
She descended as quickly as was safe while they made a beeline for her. They were waiting at the base, but as she got a close-up look at them, she lost all pretense of a nonchalant yet sassy greeting.
“What—what happened? James. Vincent. What’s the matter?”
“We need to talk to you privately,” James said, reaching out to her but stopping just shy of touching her. His eyes implored her.
“Sure. In my office?”
She walked past Presley Ann and led James and Vincent around the corner and down the hall to her office. Farther down the hall, she could hear Evelyn and the head cashier chatting amiably in the bookkeeping office. She was eternally grateful that Evelyn had quickly grown bored with retirement and had come back to work part time. Thinking how random that observation was, she directed the men into her office.
She was about to invite them to sit in the chairs opposite her desk, but they directed her to take a seat in one of them instead. Then they knelt in front of her.
Her heart pounded even faster when she looked in their eyes. “Guys, you’re scaring me now. What happened?”
“It’s Patterson. There’s been an accident.”
Tunnel vision enveloped her and their voices had a funny echo in for a few seconds.
“Is he all right? What happened?” she asked, even though she had a feeling she already knew.
Vincent swallowed and said, “He was on his motorcycle—”
She reached out to cover his mouth with her fingers, unwilling to hear his words.
“No,” she whispered, her voice sounding so far away and weak. “He brought me coffee earlier and told me not to make any plans for supper because he was going to bring it to me. He doesn’t like it when I get fast food while I’m working. He wanted me to have a decent meal. He said he was stopping by Rudy’s to pick up my favorite and have Rudy put one of his lemon bars in for dessert. He didn’t even give me the chance to turn him down. He just said he was doing it and that was that…He…”
He kissed me.
She babbled on breathlessly, unwilling to give them a chance to further explain until she was out of air. James reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek. “He’s not coming, honey.”
“Oh. His motorcycle broke down, huh?” she asked, grasping desperately at straws. “I always worry about him on that bike, even though I don’t really have the right or responsibility to worry about him. He does what he wants anyway. I have to fuss at him to wear his helmet. Stupid man, one of these days…one of these days he’s…” She reached out to both of them, placing her hands on their shoulders, fearing she’d fall out of the chair when the world threatened to go topsy-turvy. They braced her with their hands. Even squatting, they seemed to tower over her, surround her.
Vincent looked at her with tears swimming in his green eyes—so much like Patterson’s. “Leah.” His voice lost strength and he had to clear his throat.
“What happened? Where is he right now?” she asked, squeezing his firm shoulder as he struggled to speak. He covered her hand with his and said, “Doll, he’s in the hospital. He was thrown from his motorcycle. He wasn’t wearing his helmet.”
She closed her eyes, bracing herself. “It’s bad?”
James said, “Yes. He was rear ended and thrown into the windshield of the vehicle that hit him. The doctors say he has a head injury. There’s swelling in his brain. They’re doing everything they can for him, but…”