Always Friday Read online

  Dan frowned. “I have headaches.”

  “Frequent? Severe?”

  Dan glanced at Tess.

  She stood quickly. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.”

  When Tess was gone, Dan nodded. “I have frequent, severe headaches.”

  “Your sister indicated that to me. We’ve done an MRI and several other tests. There’s no organic cause that we can determine. No tumors or abnormalities. We’ll do other tests, but I suspect from the history I’ve gathered that yours are the result of extreme and prolonged stress. I can’t emphasize the seriousness of your condition enough. The kind of stress you’ve subjected yourself to can be fatal.”

  Daniel looked incredulous. “I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a headache.”

  “It’s not the headache. The headache is a symptom. Your blood pressure is elevated. You’ve developed a serious gastric ulcer. You can’t continue as you have been. You’re tortured with headaches, and you’ve almost eaten a hole in your stomach.”

  “What do you recommend? Surgery? Medication? A special diet?”

  “Surgery is not indicated at this time. Proper monitoring, medication, a special diet, yes. But more important than that is rest and a complete change in life-style. I would suggest that you take off three months, six months—a year would be best—and forget about your business. Go off to an island somewhere, lie in a hammock in the sun, and watch the tide come in. Reassess your life and your goals.”

  “Dr. Shafer, I can’t take that kind of time away from the company. It’s out of the question. People depend on me. I have to return to Pittsburgh right away.

  The doctor rose. “Then, Mr. Friday, you should get your affairs in order and select your pallbearers.” He turned and left the room.

  Dan heard the door open again and smelled Tess’s perfume as she entered, sat down in the chair beside his bed, and touched his shoulder.

  Stunned by the doctor’s parting salvo, Daniel still stared at the ceiling. His hand closed automatically over the fine-boned one that was offered. Was his condition as serious as Dr. Shafer had painted it, or was he using scare tactics to . . . to what? Why should the man lie?

  Could Daniel afford to be away from the company for six months or a year? As vice president, the entire load would fall on Kathy. Could his baby sister handle it? Even though she was always complaining about his methods, lecturing him about delegating authority, badgering him to give her more responsibility, he’d always done everything he could to protect her and make things easier for her. Lord, he couldn’t burden her with the ordeal of running Friday Elevators for even three months. He wouldn’t wish that fate on the devil himself, much less the sister he loved.

  Yet, if things were as serious as the doctor claimed, what were his options? Ted, his younger brother, was a promising playwright; all he knew about the business was that its stock’s dividends kept him afloat in these early, lean years of his career. If Daniel died, the responsibility would be dumped on Kathy permanently. He shuddered at the thought of her having to deal with the hell he’d endured over the past twelve years.

  At least Kathy was older than Daniel had been when the task of rebuilding the company that was near bankruptcy had fallen on his shoulders. He had just received his degree in architecture and had accepted a plum job with an outstanding firm. When his father died, he had abandoned his dream to pull the business out of the red. It had been a nightmare; it was still a nightmare, but the security of his family had always come first and, as the oldest son, the responsibility was his.

  Certainly, with a Master’s in business management, Kathy was better prepared to run a business than he’d been. Perhaps she could manage Friday Elevators for a few weeks.

  A month. He’d give himself a month. If he called the office every day and moved Chuck Stanley in as Kathy’s assistant, maybe she could keep things going for that long. It seemed there was no other choice.

  Strangely, Daniel felt relieved.

  “But where am I going to find an island and a hammock?” he mused aloud.

  “Galveston is an island,” Tess said, a slow grin breaking across her face. “And I think there’s a hammock stashed somewhere in the garage. You can stay with us.”

  His frown returned. “I can’t stay with you.”

  “And why not? We have lots of room. It’s perfect. Aunt Martha will love it. She needs someone to fuss over.” Tess didn’t add that his staying in Galveston would be the answer to her own prayers.

  Dan turned on his corporate persona full force. “It’s out of the question. I’ll buy Gram a condo in Florida and she can fuss over me there.”

  “Silliest thing I ever heard.” Tess gave a dismissive wave of her hand as someone tapped on the door.

  A head with a cap of white curls popped around the door. Martha Craven, Dan’s short, slightly plump grandmother fluttered into the hospital room and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Why such a scowl, Danny? Aren’t you feeling better? Dr. Ed said—”

  His scowl deepened. “I’m feeling fine, Gram.”

  “We were just discussing Dan’s staying in Galveston while he recuperates,” Tess said. “I’ve told him we’d love to have him.”

  Martha clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s a wonderful idea. There’s plenty of room and we can all take care of you. And when you’re feeling better, we can buy the RV—I’ve had my eye on a Winnebago—and you can go treasure hunting with us.”

  Dan looked at her incredulously. “Treasure hunting? Are you serious?”

  “Oops.” A blue-veined hand went to her mouth. “I’m not supposed to talk about it—Olivia says we have to keep it quiet or someone will try to beat us to it—but since you’re family, I’m sure it’s all right.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s part of Jean Laffite’s booty. He once lived on this very island. We have a map and all sorts of directions from an old journal. They really belong to Olivia and Tess, but since I found them when I was working on the genealogy, they’re insisting that I get a share. If we find the treasure, Tess can have her house and Olivia and I can have our racehorse.” She clapped her hands together. “Isn’t it a gas?”

  Daniel frowned. A gas? Had his very proper grandmother said “a gas”? Had the entire world gone crazy? If she wasn’t senile, then something very peculiar was going on in that household. Treasure hunts and racehorses and convicts and bizarre little cars named Buttercup. The whole bunch of them was strange. Even if he was mightily attracted to Tess Cameron, he had to admit that she was odd too. He’d feel better if his grandmother were somewhere else. “How about Hawaii?”

  Martha looked puzzled. “What about Hawaii?”

  “Would you like a condo in Hawaii?”

  “Certainly not. I love Galveston. And you will too, Danny.” She patted his hand. “You will too.”

  Daniel shook his head. It had been a hell of a day.

  Early the next afternoon, Tess and her passenger pulled away from the hospital and headed toward the house on Broadway.

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Daniel said.

  “Of course it is. We have an empty guest cottage where you can have all the privacy you want, and everybody is delighted to have someone to fuss over. Aunt Olivia and your grandmother have dusted and plumped the pillows three times already this morning. And Ivan, poor man, is convinced that his shrimp puffs caused your attack, so he’s conferred with the hospital dietitian and has been busy concocting gastronomic delights to tempt your palate. How many people have an internationally-known chef prepare their ulcer diets?”

  “Very few, I suspect. But I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “Trouble? Are you kidding? You’re going to learn very soon that the folks in this house only do what they enjoy. It’s the secret to a long and happy life. ‘Kick back, relax, and enjoy life’ is our motto. We’re going to teach you how. Hook already has the hammock up in the backyard.”

  “Hook, the ex-con? I’d almost fo
rgotten about him. He was the last thing I remember seeing before I blacked out. Lord, he’s a big, mean-looking customer. Are you sure he’s safe to have around?”

  Grinning as she watched Dan’s discomfort, Tess said, “Positive. Hook is unique and extremely talented. Forget about his prison time. He’s as gentle as a lamb. He was the first one to volunteer to donate blood for you, and since you matched, you now have a pint of him in you. You’re blood brothers, so to speak.”

  She almost giggled at the expression that flashed over Dan’s face. “I’ll have to thank him,” he said. “And thank you for the clothes and other things you brought to the hospital.”

  “No problem. We figured you’d need a few items until Kathy could get your own clothes shipped down here.”

  When Tess had seen the knit pullover in the window of the shop next to the Mermaid, she’d known it would be perfect for Dan. And it was. Its soft blue-gray color was the exact shade of his eyes and showed off his amazingly well-shaped shoulders and chest. She’d also bought several other items; it had been fun outfitting Dan for a new, more relaxed lifestyle.

  Thinking he might be the pajama type, she even bought pajamas. But they were not striped cotton with a collar and buttons down the front. The ones she bought were loden green silk with a deep V-necked top and easy-moving baggy pants pegged at the ankle.

  When she’d started to select underwear, Tess had passed up the conservative styles and had chosen a half dozen pair of colorful briefs: everything from electric blue silk briefs to Italian mesh to a jersey camouflage. She’d tossed them all into the bag she’d packed to take to the hospital. She couldn’t resist asking, “Did you like the underwear?”

  “Who picked it out? I can’t imagine Gram buying commando briefs.”

  “She didn’t. I did.” Tess stole a glance at him in time to see his lips slowly curl up in amusement.

  “I see.”

  She turned her attention back to her driving and nibbled at her lip. For the first time, she was having second thoughts about all the stuff she’d bought that was now hanging in the closet and neatly stacked in chest drawers in the guest cottage. What if he didn’t like it? What if he resented her selecting clothes for him?

  “I’m sorry if you don’t like the camouflage skivvies. I bought them, and all the others, as kind of a joke to cheer you up. Aunt Olivia says that drinking the water in Galveston always makes everybody crazy, and I drink eight glasses every day. If you’d prefer boxer shorts or plain old Fruit of the Loom cotton knit, I’ll be happy to run down to—”

  “Tess.” He interrupted her babbling with a hand on the shoulder of her chartreuse jumpsuit. “The ones you bought are fine. Thanks.” He squeezed her shoulder for emphasis. “Maybe I’ll even model them for you sometime.”

  Was he only teasing or did he mean it? She’d never been the type to fantasize about seductively clad men, but a sudden image of Dan in nothing but a strip of pink Italian mesh with a bit of strategically placed nylon did peculiar things to her heartbeat.

  Of course he was teasing.

  Wasn’t he?

  She swallowed and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was frowning and staring out the window.

  Feigning a seductive tone and wiggling her eyebrows, Tess said, “I’ll hold you to that, big guy.” She managed to make him laugh as she pulled into the driveway of the redbrick mansion and tooted the horn.

  The next few minutes passed in happy chaos as everybody in the house poured out to welcome Dan home from the hospital.

  Daniel thought the bunch of them looked like the cast of an off-Broadway farce. Both older women, one tall, one nearly a head shorter, were dressed in sweat suits and Reeboks. Martha wore a lavender outfit with her pearls, while Olivia was clad in bold black and white stripes. When she’d visited him briefly at the hospital, Olivia’s hair had been tucked under some kind of a turban. He stared at it now. Held back with a black sweatband, it was flaming red and hung halfway down her back. Her eyelashes were at least an inch long and obviously fake. Both octogenarians beamed at him.

  Dan’s grandmother, her snow-white crop of curls tickling his chin, hugged him as if she hadn’t seen him in years when, in fact, she’d spent several hours at his bedside only the day before.

  “Oh, Danny, it’s wonderful to have you home from that dreadful, sterile place.” Martha Craven dabbed at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief she pulled from a pocket. “And all you’ve had to endure!” She hugged him again with a new rush of tears.

  “Martha, don’t carry on so or you’ll get the hiccups again.” Olivia Gates, who had turned eighty-one in January and was almost as slim and fully as tall as Tess, patted Dan’s back. “Now, Daniel, you’re welcome here for as long as we can persuade you to stay. You must think of this as your home. Our digs are your digs, so to speak. And you must call me Aunt Olivia, just as my Tess does.” She patted his back again. “We’re going to have you mellowed out and coasting in nothing flat.”

  His grandmother on one side and Olivia on the other ushered him toward the front porch, where Hook and Ivan stood waiting. Dan glanced back at Tess as if to say, “Save me from all this,” but Tess only grinned and shrugged.

  “I believe you already know Ivan,” Olivia said to Daniel, “but you conked out the other night before you met Julius.” She introduced him to the menacing black giant with the scar and the bald head. “Julius runs the household. Anything you need, let him know.”

  “Hook,” the big man said in a bass voice, taking the hand that Daniel offered. “Call me Hook. Nobody but Miss Olivia calls me Julius.”

  His grin was so broad that it showed not only his gold front tooth but the star cutout decorating its surface. Daniel forced a smile and thanked him for the blood donation, but he wasn’t convinced that anyone with Hook’s history could be trusted with the family silver. Or with his grandmother.

  Ivan Petkov bowed, his expression contrite. “Please accept my profuse apologies for the shrimp puffs. My heart is overwhelmed with grief for the pain they caused your stomach.”

  “Ivan—” Dan began.

  “No, no.” Ivan held up both beefy hands. “Tess explains, but still I feel remorse for my idiocy. You must let me make amends. I work my fingers to the bone to devise tempting dishes for your diet. Not one iota will I deviate from the hospital’s list. Come into my kitchen and taste the healthy drink I have created for you. Ah, fantastic! I think I shall write a new cookbook. I shall dedicate it to you.”

  Ivan would not be satisfied until the entire assemblage followed him back to the large kitchen and tasted his Tropical Smoothie Friday. Daniel even took a tentative sip to humor the Bulgarian, but despite the welcome—and Tess—he was trying to figure out a way to extract his grandmother from this loony bin.

  “The touch of almond extract is the secret.” Ivan slapped Daniel’s back. “Delicious, is it not?” When Daniel agreed, the blustery chef said, “I leave a pitcher in the refrigerator here in the kitchen and another in the small one in your cottage. You must drink a small glass every two hours for the good of your stomach. And we have dinner early. Not that hospital food. Bah! I fix—”

  “Ivan, cool it.” Olivia shot him a quelling glance. “Daniel needs rest, a little peace and quiet, not a recitation of your concoctions.” When Ivan hung his head, she patted him on the shoulder. “You know we’re all appreciative of your very great talents.”

  Ivan smiled and kissed her hand. Three times.

  Olivia sighed and turned to Daniel. “You’ll have to forgive us if we all seem a little overzealous. Things will quiet down in a few minutes. Martha, Hook, Ivan, and I are going to check out a new art exhibit this afternoon. We’ll leave Tess to get you settled in.”

  Martha looked startled. “But Olivia—”

  “You’ll see Daniel at dinner,” Olivia said to her friend, and she herded the others out of the kitchen, leaving only Daniel and Tess behind.

  As the four trooped out, Daniel leaned against the big butcher bl
ock, sipping his smoothie and shaking his head. “You know,” he said when he noticed Tess watching him, “this stuff is good.”

  Tess burst out laughing. “I should hope so. Ivan could name his own salary at any one of the top-rated hotels or restaurants in the country.”

  “Then why is he here?”

  “Because he adores my aunt. He was distraught when she fell and broke her hip. I doubt he’ll ever leave again. She saved his life after he fled from Bulgaria forty something years ago. Ivan’s been begging her to marry him ever since.”

  “Why doesn’t she?”

  “She says it’s because he’s twenty years younger than she is, but I suspect there’s another reason as well.”

  Daniel drank the last of his special concoction and set the glass down. “Which is?”

  “She was very much in love with a man when she was in her twenties. They were engaged and planned to be married in a double wedding ceremony with her twin sister, my grandmother. Unfortunately, he was killed.”

  “And she never married?”

  Tess shook her head. “My family has an unusual history. If a woman finds love, it’s only once and it’s fierce. If that’s lost . . .” She shrugged. “Enough of that. You must be tired. Come on, I’ll show you to the cottage.”

  Daniel followed her to the hallway, glancing at the portraits as he went. He stopped in front of one, obviously very old, and stepped back to get a better look at it. “Who is this imposing fellow? One of your ancestors?”

  Tess laughed. “Yes. He was my great-great grandfather, Marsh Prophet, Captain Marsh Prophet of the Texas Rangers before he met and married my great-great grandmother Acasia. Casey, she was called. This is her portrait.” Tess pointed to the painting next to the first.

  “Very beautiful,” Dan said glancing back and forth between Tess and the painting of her ancestor. “You look a little like her–except for the red hair.”

  Tess was warmed by his words. Did he think she was beautiful? She’d never considered herself so, but all of a sudden it became important that Dan find her attractive. “Do you really think so?”