The Color of Love

Chapter Fifteen

Dr. Carter Armstrong sauntered into the waiting room a little before noon, looking as polished and superior in a set of rumpled scrubs as he would have in a ten-thousand-dollar suit. His coal-black hair with just the slightest hint of white at the temples was perfectly in place, showing no signs of the surgical cap he’d been wearing when Derian had talked to him right before Henrietta had been taken to the operating room. He zeroed in on her and flashed a practiced smile. “We’re done. She’s fine.”

Derian impulsively wrapped an arm around Emily and pulled her close. After a second of head-spinning relief, she met the surgeon in the middle of the room. “Where is she?”

“In a recovery room, right now. We like to keep the patients close to the OR for a few minutes after we close, just in case—although I don’t expect any problems.”

“Can you tell me what you did?”

He gave her a look as if she might not understand what his greatness had accomplished, but he lifted a shoulder and acquiesced. “As I explained earlier, her coronaries showed multiple levels of blockage, probably as a result of some long-term hyperlipidemia—abnormal fat metabolism—and hypertension. We jumped four grafts to reperfuse the cardiac muscle. Her signs all look great right now.”

“And long-term?”

“Anything can happen, of course, but barring complications and if she sticks to her rehab program, watches her diet, and accepts some reasonable modification in her lifestyle, she should do fine.”

“Define reasonable modification,” Derian said.

“Well, her hypertension appears to have been poorly controlled up until this time, and she’ll need to adhere to whatever program the medical management team institutes. We always suggest cardiac patients moderate their work schedule and reduce stress.” He must have read the disbelief in Derian’s face as he shrugged. “Honestly, the future is up to your aunt—we can only make recommendations. But the surgery was a success.”

“All right, thanks,” Derian said.

“Not at all. The nurses will let you know when she’s been moved to the cardiac care unit.” He turned and walked away.

Derian had a feeling that was the last she would see of him, but if he’d done his job, she was fine with that. She turned to Emily, who’d come to stand beside her. “I didn’t know she had any health problems, and I should have.”

Emily smiled softly. “You don’t really think she would’ve told anyone, do you?”

Derian blew out a breath. “If I’d been around she might have.”

“Derian,” Emily said, “none of this is your fault. You couldn’t have changed this even if you’d been here. Henrietta is Henrietta. You know that.”

A muscle jumped in Derian’s jaw, and she nodded perfunctorily. “You might be right, but I still feel like I let her down.”

Emily grasped her arm. “You didn’t. You’re here, and that’s what she needs.”

“I think you’re a lot more of what she needs than me,” Derian said almost to herself. “When I’m not here, you’re the one she’ll be counting on.”

Emily flinched inwardly, Derian’s words a cold dose of reality. Of course Derian wouldn’t be staying. She might be leaving at any time. Emily squared her shoulders. “Once Henrietta recovers, she is going to get on with her life, and she’ll expect you to get on with yours.”

“Expect me to disappear again, you mean.”

Emily jammed her hands on her hips and gave Derian a look. “You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who beats herself up over things that can’t be helped. Since you seem to be determined to kick yourself, I think you need to take a break. Get something to eat and probably some sleep.”

Derian grinned wryly. “Diagnosis and treatment plan appreciated, Doctor, but I’m going to stay here until I’ve seen Henrietta. And I promise to stop whining.”

Emily softened. “You can whine all you want, but you still need to take care of yourself.” She glanced at her watch. “I’d like to stay to see her, but I should get back to the agency. Vonnie probably needs some help, and she wanted to come over here on her lunch hour.”

Fleeting panic coursed through Derian’s chest, a sensation she could never recall having before. She didn’t want Emily to go. “When will I see you again?”

Emily’s brows drew down. “I’m sorry?”

“Look,” Derian said, raking a hand through her hair, never having been so off balance in her life. “This is crazy. Every time I see you, we’re in the middle of some kind of crisis. You’ve been keeping me company, hell, keeping me steady, and I want—” Derian broke off. Emily was staring at her like she was a little crazy, and she was. She didn’t know what she was trying to say, what she wanted, but she couldn’t shake the feeling if she let Emily walk away, she’d regret it forever. “I don’t know how well I would’ve done through all of this without you being here.”

“You would’ve done just fine,” Emily said gently. “But I’m glad I was here, and you’ve helped me a lot too.” She paused, felt a tremendous wave of gratitude swell within. “I’ve talked to you about things I’ve never talked to anyone about. It helps. I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

“Have dinner with me,” Derian said.

Emily laughed, surprise and disbelief in her voice. “What?”

“Tonight. When everything has quieted down, and we’re not both scared and anxious. To celebrate Henrietta’s successful surgery.” Derian took Emily’s hand. “To get to know each other. Please.”

The idea was mad—mad and wonderful, and Emily broke ranks with her habitual caution, refusing to second-guess the excitement pulsing through her. “All right, under one condition.”

Derian’s eyebrow winged up. “Oh?”

“This time, I’ll make dinner.”

“You mean, actually cook it?”

Delighted at the consternation on Derian’s face, Emily laughed. “Yes. You have heard of that?”

“Rumors, but I’ve never actually witnessed it.”

“Then you’re in for a treat. Seven o’clock.”

“I can’t wait.” Derian grinned, and the worry and fear in her expression gave way to the rakish charm Emily had glimpsed when they’d been alone in Derian’s apartment—when Derian had been unabashedly naked, and unabashedly seductive.

Emily swallowed. What was she doing? Why did she have to ask? Emily gave her the address and her phone number. “But if you’re too tired, or if something comes up—”

Derian stroked her finger along the edge of Emily’s jaw, stilling her. “Nothing will come up. I’ll be there. Red wine or white?”

“Red,” Emily said softly, looking into Derian’s eyes. For an instant, nothing else in the world mattered, only the pull of Derian’s gaze. Warning bells rang, and she ignored them. All her life she’d been careful and cautious and responsible. She regretted none of it, and she would not regret this moment, when she chose something because her heart urged her to.

“Then tonight.”

“Tonight,” Derian whispered.

*

“Any news?” Ron asked the instant Emily entered his office and plopped onto the sofa across from his desk.

She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and let out a long breath. “Surgery is over, successful, and she’s in recovery.”

Ignoring the nearby chair, he sat on the coffee table across from her, his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting in his hands. Leaning even closer, he muttered, “Thank God. At least something around here is going right.”

She opened her eyes, suddenly more tired than she could remember being in days. She gazed at him. “How bad is it?”

“I can’t imagine it could get any worse. Well, I can, but I don’t want to.” Shuddering, he glanced toward the door as if checking that no one was listening. “Donatella has been cloistered behind closed doors all morning, but every now and then edicts emerge via email. She’s already terminated four pending approvals and cut Jeremy’s marketing budget by thirty percent.”

“That will gut our summer title promotions,” Emily said. “We’ve got co-op agreements with publishers for author tours. We have to have the funds to cover those.”

“Who’s going to tell her that?”

“I guess that would be me.” Emily rubbed her eyes. “God, this is terrible. How’s everybody holding up?”

“Everybody’s still pretty much in shock. But if this goes on—”

“It won’t,” Emily said emphatically. She needed to stem the decline in morale right now. “Henrietta will be well enough to delegate responsibility in a few days, and whomever she puts in charge—”

“What are you talking about? That will be you, of course.”

Emily wasn’t so sure, especially with Donatella already in residence. If her visa status remained uncertain, she might even be seen as expendable. The thought was paralyzing, and she forced it into a dark corner of her mind. She had to deal with what was actually happening, not what might happen. Still, with the exact timing of Henrietta’s return uncertain, she had to consider the long term. “Bill might be a better choice.”

“No way,” Ron said. “I like Bill, you know that, but he’s terrible at delegating, plus he’s—” He paused as if searching for a diplomatic term. “He’s got tunnel vision in terms of the marketplace. If it were up to him, the only thing we’d ever represent would be best-seller potentials, and that’s not us!”

Emily couldn’t argue. Bill would probably be one of the few agents who agreed with Donatella’s assessment as to what kind of titles they should carry. “Right now, none of that matters. We’re going to have to deal with Donatella.”

He made a face. “What about Henrietta’s niece?”

“Derian?” Emily’s heart actually raced just saying her name. Another thought she pushed aside.

“Is she likely to step in?”

“No,” Emily said. “She’s made it very clear she has no interest in the business.”

“Maybe she’ll change her mind,” he said hopefully.

“I wouldn’t count on that,” she said as much to herself as to him. One thing she knew for certain, Derian’s stay was only temporary.

*

Restless and agitated after Emily’s departure, Derian walked outside for some air. She bought a hot dog from a vendor on the corner and ate it standing out of the way of the crowds. When she finished, she called Aud.

“Dere?” Aud said. “Everything all right?”

“Surgery is done. She’s doing okay. I haven’t had a chance to see her yet.”

“That’s great news. Are you still at the hospital?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stay here for a couple of hours still.”

“I can’t get away, but I should be free by dinnertime. I could meet you—”

“Ah, I’ll be tied up later.” Derian smiled to herself, thinking about dinner with Emily. The anticipation kindled the kind of excitement she usually only experienced before a big race or a high-stakes gamble at the tables.

“Oh,” Aud said with a hint of surprise. “Okay, then.”

“What’s going on at the agency, Aud?” She expected the silence, but that didn’t prevent the quick flare of annoyance. “Look, I know Donatella is there, and that’s Martin’s doing. Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

“That’s not my territory,” Aud said evasively.

“Bullshit. You’re your father’s right-hand man, and he’s Martin’s personal attorney. Don’t pretend you don’t know what the long-range plans are.”

“I swear, Derian,” Aud said, “I don’t know exactly what Martin has planned. Someone has to take over at the agency in Henrietta’s absence. It’s perfectly reasonable that Martin wants someone he knows to have decision-making power.”

“You mean someone who will institute his agenda. There are qualified people at the agency who can run things in Henrietta’s stead. We both know that.”

“We don’t actually.” Aud made an exasperated sound. “Look, as much as I love Henrietta, she and Martin aren’t all that different. She keeps a lot of information about the agency to herself. As to how qualified anyone else is to take her place, that remains to be seen.”

“Emily May is Henrietta’s choice.”

“Another thing we don’t know, and even if that’s the case, Emily is—”

“Experienced, and personally trained by Henrietta. Come on, Aud. The agency is a tiny part of Winfield Enterprises, and the only reason Martin even cares about it is because he and Henrietta have been feuding their whole lives.”

“As I said,” Aud said coolly, “I don’t presume to know Mr. Winfield’s plans.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Derian muttered. “Look, just get Donatella out of there for now. Let Emily run things until Henrietta is through the postoperative period, and then—”

“That’s not going to happen.”

Derian stiffened. “Why not?”

“Derian, you haven’t cared to be involved in any of the business matters your entire life. I’m glad that you’re here, and I know that Henrietta needs you, but this is not your concern.”

Anger welled in Derian’s chest, even as she knew Aud had a point. She had no right to make demands. And she had no one to blame for that except herself.

“Look,” Aud said, sounding tired, “I understand your concerns. Emily May might not even be at the agency in a few more months, and until we get a reasonable transition team in place, Donatella is your father’s choice.”

“Wait a minute, back up. What do you mean, Emily might not be there?”

“Martin wants to downsize, and Emily isn’t even a permanent resident. Even if her visa is renewed, and right now, that’s up in the air, the board is not going to approve her taking over as head of the agency. Besides, she’s not family, and you know how things work.”

“And Donatella is?”

“Donatella at least has your father’s blessing.”

“And we all know how much that counts for.”

“Derian—”

“Never mind, Aud. I don’t know why I forgot whose side you’re on. I seem to keep making that mistake.”

“Dammit! If you’d bothered to be here once in a while—”

“You’re right,” Derian said. “But I’m here now.”

She disconnected, dropped the phone into her pocket, and walked back into the hospital. Maybe the smartest thing to do was stay out of the way, let Martin do what he wanted to do for years—turn the agency into a moneymaking enterprise or kill it altogether. She’d opted out of that battlefront years ago. Ran from it, if she was being honest. Once Henrietta was on the road to recovery, she could get back to her life. She slowly climbed the stairs, her footsteps echoing in the silence of the stairwell. Back to her life. She couldn’t think of a single thing about it that she missed.