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ОглавлениеCHAPTER THREE
CRYSTAL DECIDED to grab some lunch and call André before going to see Skip and the other boys to give them their keepsakes. The crowded cafeteria pulsed with noisy chatter. Doctors and nurses who ordinarily ate in one of the hospital’s three open courtyards had been driven inside by the storm.
She chose a shrimp salad and a cup of coffee and settled into a corner table by a window. Fat raindrops beat steadily against the glass. Warming her hands on the cup, Crystal dreaded calling André. It was hard to gauge how he’d react. Probably he’d be upset. She ought to have explained to Tanner how generous the offer really was. But no, he wanted more. He wouldn’t have listened to reason. To top it off, he’d acted as if eighty-five thousand was a paltry amount.
Thank goodness it wasn’t her problem. She coordinated all department budgets and gave input into spending patterns. The decision to spend an obscene amount of money to hire a name—and to Crystal Caleb Tanner’s name was the only thing he had of any worth—belonged to the company principals, mainly André and Gaby. Margaret always backed them. Charles had almost ceased participating, and as for his sons...well, Alain and Raymond opposed everything André put on the table. Jason rarely attended meetings. Scott avoided all family politics. But spending money always caused major bickering.
Still, she couldn’t sit here procrastinating forever. Swallowing a bite of salad, Crystal took her cell phone out of her handbag and quickly punched in André’s number. “Hi, it’s me,” she said inanely in response to his greeting. “Tanner tore up our offer, André. I hope you don’t fall off your chair, but get this. His bottom line is one hundred thousand. Plus benefits, I’m sure. I let him know the figure was preposterous.”
She held the phone away from her ear as André responded.
“You’re telling me to go for it? Do you know how much of a slice that takes out of the sports budget? We paid Jerry Davis half that and he came to WDIX an experienced broadcaster. For all you know, Tanner might freeze in front of the camera.”
Crystal cradled the phone on her shoulder while she poked at the shrimp among her salad greens. The more determination she heard in André’s voice, the less hungry she became. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll concede that might be far-fetched. I realize you’ve seen him field sports interviews. Of course Lyon Broadcasting is solvent. Yes, we have money in the discretionary fund. André, maybe it’d be better if you and Nate came and talked to Tanner. I’ll go back to the office and adjust the short- and long-term planning figures to reflect your decision.”
She shoved her salad away. “I know you want him. It just seemed such an absurd request I didn’t seriously imagine you’d go that high.”
Sighing, Crystal massaged her forehead. “Okay. Will you print another letter of intent with the new dollar amounts and run it over here? Two copies. You sign both and I’ll have Tanner do the same—maybe. If he goes for it. You might want to include a list of benefits. I have a feeling he’ll ask what all we’re offering. Buzz me when you’re a couple of blocks from the hospital. I’ll come out to the curb and collect the envelope so you don’t have to fight for parking.”
After she hung up, she drank her cold coffee and contemplated what quirk in male brains made them elevate sports figures to the top of the salary pyramid. Well, top salary for an independent TV station, anyway. And from Tanner’s remarks it wasn’t even close to what he made throwing a stupid ball around a cow pasture. But then, rock stars pulled down indecent money compared to most jazz musicians she knew. More of life’s unfairness, she supposed.
The cafeteria had begun to empty. Rather than visit the boys while she waited for André’s call, Crystal refilled her coffee cup. Better to sew up this deal with Tanner and get it out of her system. Kids were so perceptive. Skipper, especially, because of the stream of foster families he’d lived with could pick up moods easily. Crystal didn’t want him worrying about her little snit.
Ultimately she downed three cups of coffee before André called. Her teeth might be on edge from an overdose of caffeine, but at least the storm had blown over and the rain had stopped. The sun had popped out and steam rose off the sidewalks by the time Crystal jogged out to the street to meet André’s car. He wasn’t alone. Nate and Michael were with him.
“Sure you won’t handle this, André?” she pleaded again as he shoved the manila envelope into her hand. “I’ll smuggle you past the nurses’ station.”
Nate leaned across André. “Pro athletes can be superstitious as heu, Crystal. We don’t know that Tanner is, but no sense rocking the canoe, if you know what I mean. He’s talking to you, and that suits me fine. Say, André forgot to ask—did Cale mention how long it’d be before we can expect him to come on board?”
“We, uh, didn’t get to the particulars. I doubt we’d have progressed beyond him ripping up our letter if his agent hadn’t shown up.”
André frowned. “Is Bergman involved in our negotiations? If so, the tab may go even higher.”
Crystal flattened herself against the car as an SUV plowed through a puddle and water sprayed from beneath its big wheels. “Mr. Bergman’s the one who urged Tanner to reconsider taking the job. I gathered he’s only just found out for sure that the Sinners aren’t going to renew Caleb’s contract.”
“So it’s official?” Nate played drumbeats on André’s dash. “I’m glad you beefed up the benefits, André. We’ll hit him while he’s still reeling. Stay with him until he signs, Crystal. And be nice. Tell him what he wants to hear. That he’ll have a generous travel allowance and his own expense account.”
“What?” Crystal bent down and thrust her head into the car. “Am I going to have to fight with him over road expenses the way I do with you, Nate? You can’t give an employee an unlimited expense account. It’s financial suicide. Tell him, Michael.”
André cleared his throat. “It’s not open-ended, Crystal. But we’d rather wait to set the parameters after Caleb starts work and we have a better sense of what his duties will be. Can you avoid stating an exact amount? Just indicate it’ll be generous.”
“I think you’re all nuts,” she muttered. “A monkey in silk is still a monkey.”
“Oh, that’s something else,” Nate said. “While Michael drew up the new offer, I did some digging into Cale’s background. He graduated from Texas A & M with a degree in communications.”
“I’ll bet. Everybody knows college counselors give jocks do-nothing courses.”
Nate smiled. “Used to be true, thank heaven. Otherwise I’d have never made it through Georgia State. Now everybody has to pull his weight academically. Cale carried a 3.8 grade point. So give credit where credit’s due.”
“Sure,” she said sweetly. “I happen to know you graduated magna cum laude, Nathan. Jill showed me your college scrapbook.”
“Why’d she do a dumb thing like that?” He frowned.
“Maybe she wanted people at work to know you were more than just a pretty face.”
That brought guffaws from the others. Nate Fraser’s face could be called many things. Rugged. Lived-in. Maybe even kind. But pretty? Definitely not.
Nate slumped back into his seat. “Get on with you, white girl,” he growled. “Quit stalling. André’s blocked the passenger unloading zone long enough. And don’t you be telling Cale I do okay in the brains department. As director, I get more respect pretending to be a dumb jock.”
Crystal couldn’t help smiling as she trudged back to Tanner’s room. It wasn’t often she got one up on Nate. She wished she’d thought to use the information about his academic career before. Like when Nate claimed he messed up his expense account because he couldn’t get the hang of debits and credits.
This time when she approached Tanner’s door, she didn’t hear any noise. On checking, she discovered the drapes had been pulled to darken the room. Tanner was alone, but not asleep. He worked with a set of hand weights while staring dejectedly at a blank TV screen. His lunch tray sat untouched.
The ravaged expression on his face walloped Crystal before she had a chance to erect defenses. “Hi. It’s me again.” Her voice squeaked as she stumbled over the banal greeting.
His eyes, jade-dark and overflowing with dashed hopes, studied her. “I’m rotten company, sugar. On the other hand, I’d just as soon not be alone right now.”
Crystal stepped fully into the room. Nate’s recent directive pounded through her head. Be nice to him. He did look as if he needed a friend. She glanced around and saw that the room had three chairs. Selecting one, she sat and placed her handbag in another, then propped her sax case against the third. “Will Mr. Bergman be back soon?”
“Agents can’t afford to waste their time on cripples. He’s probably glued to his cell phone, looking for new blood.”
Crystal pulled her hair over one shoulder, separated it into three heavy strands and began braiding it automatically. “So you exploded like a volcano and threw him out, huh?”
He stopped lifting the weights. “If you’re planning to add shrink to your list of accomplishments, you can take a hike, too. I’ll have agents beating down my door once this leg heals.” He slapped at the covers, accidentally throwing one of the small barbells he’d been lifting into his injured knee.
His grimace of pain told Crystal all she needed to know. She wrapped a scrunchie around the bottom end of her braid and flipped it behind her. “I don’t want to play devil’s advocate, Tanner, but it doesn’t appear that’ll happen anytime soon. You can’t kick a football until you can walk.”
“I don’t kick the football,” he said coldly. “I’m a quarterback. I throw the ball.”
Her arched eyebrow implied it was all the same thing.
Caleb crossed his arms. “I can see you’re dying to give me the perfect alternative. Well, since you’re back, I assume Fraser came up with a counteroffer. Let’s have it, then,” he muttered. “Get this over with.”
Crystal reached into her bag and removed the envelope. This time she handed him the whole thing, instead of taking out the letter as she had before. “There are two copies of the agreement and a list of benefits. Read it carefully, Mr. Tanner. To be offered more, you’d have to be willing to live in New York or L.A. This is on the high end for a station our size. André’s been more than charitable.”
He flung the envelope down, unopened. Lips thinned into a harsh line, he said, “I’m not a charity case yet. You tell that to whoever the hell André is.”
“André Lyon. The Lyons own WDIX radio and TV. His parents were television pioneers. Our station has left its mark on this country.”
“And you don’t want me tarnishing its sterling image, isn’t that right, sugar? I can tell you think I’m not fit to wipe the feet of those Lyon dudes.”
Crystal gasped. As a rule she masked her feelings well. Unable to meet his challenging green eyes, she lowered her lashes. “What I think or don’t think isn’t the issue here, Mr. Tanner. The offer for employment is a good one, and it’s legitimate.”
“Caleb,” he snarled, grabbing the envelope and ripping it open. “Have you got a beef with the name, sugar? Or with me? Was I rude to you at a game once when you tried to flirt? If so, you have my humblest apologies. So many women slink up and wind around players after a game it’s hard to distinguish one from another.”
This time not only did Crystal gasp, she shot right out of her chair, trembling with anger. “I have never been to a game,” she said haughtily. “I realize this may shock your ego, Tanner, but I don’t consider myself deprived. And if you don’t want the other leg to wind up in a cast, I’d advise you to stop calling me sugar.”
Caleb stared at her a moment, then laughed. “I thought it was unAmerican to dislike the national sport. Which is football, sug...uh, Crystal.”
Suddenly glad for André and Nate’s sake that she hadn’t let her temper totally blow the deal with Tanner, Crystal sank into the chair again and smoothed down her skirt. “There’re probably only a couple of us renegades in the entire U.S. of A.,” she said with a deprecating shrug. I’m certainly not representative of the crew at WDIX. Nor of our viewers. Our sports programs have a huge following. And it goes without saying that sports generates sponsors.”
Drawing the sheets from the envelope, Caleb read through the offer twice before he moved on to the page listing the benefits. His heart plunged as he compared what Crystal thought was a generous salary to what he’d been getting. At a hundred thou, with Uncle Sam’s bite, he’d be lucky to pull off Patsy’s wedding and pay Jenny’s college fees. For sure he’d have to find new digs. The five thousand a month he paid in rent now represented a huge chunk of change.
Crystal cleared her throat. “Is there something about the offer you need clarified? Something that particularly bothers you?”
“Everything about it bothers me, sweetheart How long does Fraser expect me to sign on for? I mean, does he understand I’ll go back to playing when my leg gets to a hundred percent?”
She looked perplexed. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. A two-week notice is standard. Jerry Davis gave three, I think. It’s his slot Nate hopes you’ll fill. But he did wonder when you’d be available. If the doctors have given you a release date, that is.”
“You mean I won’t have to sign a contract for a set amount of time?”
Her lips quirked at the corners. “Ever heard of free enterprise, Tanner? Haven’t you worked in the private sector?”
He gave that question consideration. At last he shook his head. “As a kid, I helped on the farm. You don’t get paid for that. You’re lucky to get three squares a day and a roof over your head. I signed with the Cowboys right out of college.”
“The Cowboys?” She looked blank.
Cale snickered. “Are you for real? The Dallas Cowboys, darlin’. As in NFL champions. Emmitt Smith, Deion Sanders, Michael Irvin.” When she continued to look blank, he quit laughing. “Nobody can be that out of touch with sports.”
“I am. And I don’t consider it a laughing matter. I hate team sports. They’re dangerous and violent.”
“Hell, darlin’, driving a car is dangerous. TV movies are violent.”
“Don’t call me darlin’. We were discussing André’s offer. Are you interested in working for Lyon Broadcasting or not?”
“Not. I’m interested in getting back on my feet and into the game again. But as Leland pointed out before he left, Lyon’s offered me an ace in the hole. Give me a pen and I’ll put my John Hancock on this form.”
Feeling smug at her success, Crystal pawed through her bag. When she failed to turn up a pen, she stood and walked over to his nightstand. “You had pens in the middle drawer earlier.”
“Yeah. Say, is the kid happy I signed his football?”
“I haven’t been to the ward to give it to him yet. He’ll be ecstatic. That’s all he’ll talk about for months.”
Cale started to say something, but the phone on his nightstand rang. “Catch that for me, would you?” he asked, his eyes vaguely panicky. “If it’s any of the guys from the team, tell them I’m being X-rayed or something.”
Sympathy kicking in again, she handed him a pen and nodded. “Hello,” she chirped into the phone, sounding a bit rushed and breathless.
“No, I’m not Caleb’s nurse or therapist,” Crystal said smoothly. She nonchalantly handed him the receiver. “I can safely say it’s not one of your teammates,” she whispered.
Eyes narrowed, he tucked the phone against his ear. “Well, hello, sugar pie. ’Course it’s not inconvenient. You can call me anytime, Jenny.” He signed the second copy of the intent letter, shoved both toward Crystal, then settled into the stack of pillows. From the smile that softened his face, Crystal decided the female caller was his special lady. She felt uncomfortable eavesdropping. He tacked endearments on the end of every sentence. Even when they were evidently discussing his caller’s car.
“Sounds like a clogged fuel filter, hon. I wish I could be there to change it, too, sweet pea. You know I can’t. Call Waylon Gill. Tell him what I think the trouble is. Don’t you worry about a thing, darlin’. What’s important is for you to be on wheels I can trust. Have Gill put it on my card.”
Crystal felt a moment’s envy for the woman on the other end of the phone line. Caleb Tanner dispensed love along with his handouts. Her father had lavished her with money, but she couldn’t remember a time he’d offered loving advice. Or any advice. When she was little, Roger Jardin had expected his aunt Anita to handle any problems that arose. And from the time she turned twelve, he assumed Crystal was old enough and capable enough to work things out for herself. For the most part she had. Still, there’d been times during high school and college when she would have liked someone to rely on. At least someone to run decisions by, to discuss things with.
Now she had Margaret. Or maybe not. Crystal’s fear that something might have happened to her favorite relative tied her stomach in knots. From the minute Crystal had applied for an accounting job at WDIX—really from the minute Margaret realized who she was—the kind nurturing woman had brought her into a family who’d welcomed her, who’d opened wide the doors of Lyoncrest. And she loved living in the historic old house.
Crystal paced to the window. She tugged the heavy drape aside and pressed her nose to the glass, hoping the return of sunshine would calm her unsettled feelings. Paul’s death had cast a gloom over the family. And then, before anyone could finish grieving, Margaret had vanished without a word. Crystal returned repeatedly to one basic truth: it simply wasn’t like Margie to do this. No one was more devoted to family than Margaret Lyon.
“Hey, what’s so interesting outside?”
Crystal turned and blinked. The low light in the room made it seem dark. “Oh—I didn’t hear you say goodbye and hang up.”
“I’m not surprised. You looked a million miles away. Sorry for the interruption. Where were we?”
“Uh...you signed the agreement. I would’ve left, but I didn’t know where you wanted me to put your copy. Also, I thought maybe you might have questions.”
“Will I see you at work?” He grinned rakishly and winked.
Since Crystal had just heard him fawning over the woman on the phone, she thought he had some nerve. Not to mention he obviously paid the woman’s bills, which relegated her to a status beyond that of casual acquaintance.
Crystal mustered the no-nonsense scowl she reserved for employees who’d overshot their budgets or overspent on their travel-expense accounts. “You’d better hope you don’t have dealings with me at work. I manage the money and oversee all department budgets. When people have to see me, it usually means they’re in financial trouble. Not a good place to be.”
For a moment he looked as guilty as a boy caught stealing a slice from a birthday cake. As quickly, his eyes turned serious. “Is it hard to learn how to set up a budget?”
His question took Crystal by surprise. She wondered if the woman’s car problems were the catalyst. Why hadn’t she realized it might be his wife? For all she knew, he could be married and have six kids. Not all men wore wedding rings. “I do more than set up budgets. I manage all financial transactions for the radio and television stations owned by the Lyon family. I have an undergraduate degree in accounting and business administration. I have a master’s in finance, and I’m a CPA.”
“Wow.”
He appeared so frankly impressed that Crystal felt herself blush. “Forgive me for sounding like I was bragging. I’m sure your financial adviser has at least those qualifications. Anyway...you’ll want to notify whoever it is about the change in your financial status. He or she will want to do a new profile and possibly rearrange your portfolio.”
“My portfolio.” Cale couldn’t bring himself to tell her that he’d somehow managed to fritter away ten years’ worth of income. Tough tightfisted Crystal Jardin probably had the first dime she’d ever earned enshrined under glass. “My, uh, portfolio is in good hands.”
She smiled. “Well, we’ve taken care of everything I came to do. Nate and André’s business cards are in the envelope if you think of any questions after I leave. You might tune in to the sports report at five. You’ll be a hot topic, I’m sure.”
The green in his eyes changed so rapidly into muddied distress Crystal let her handbag fall on the chair again. “What’s the matter? Your retirement and launch into sports media are bound to make headlines.”
“Leland said the Sinners won’t make any announcement until they sign a new quarterback,” he said bitterly. “Lee swore he’d give me ample warning. He thinks the coach may play the first two season games with his backup—as if he’s waiting for my return.”
Observing Cale’s rancor, Crystal felt a tug of sympathy again. “You haven’t told anyone, have you. I’ll bet not even your family.”
He shook his head.
“I see.” She sat down again and fiddled with her purse. “So the exercise we just went through is really just insurance for you. Do you really think you’ll be through physical therapy and ready by that third game? You’re counting on the Sinners rehiring you?”
“They should never have let me go,” he said coldly.
“Wouldn’t it have been crueler to leave you dangling? Which is what you plan on doing to WDIX.” Crystal said with equal coldness. Enough to bring color to Caleb’s cheeks.
He picked up the paper he’d signed and shook it at her. “I read this thoroughly. You said yourself it’s a letter of intent. They intend to hire me if and when I become available. You said it’s not a contract.”
“It’s not. But with you signing it, André and Nate are declaring the job is yours. Nate’s filling in until you start. You’re on the payroll as of now, and they won’t be looking for someone else. It’s referred to as a gentlemen’s agreement. Which is apparently beyond your comprehension, Mr. Tanner.”
“It’s Caleb. I thought we agreed.”
“So sue me. You agreed to work for WDIX-TV as soon as the doctor signs your release.”
He raised his hands. “Hold it. Arguing is getting us nowhere.”
“At last. Something on which we see eye to eye.” She crossed her legs at the knee and swung one foot back and forth. “Do you want to start unscrambling the mess?” she asked. “Or shall I?”
“You, by all means. Ladies first. You might start by telling me why you lied when I asked if I had to sign a contract for a certain number of years. You said no.”
“That’s right. I stand by that statement. But you did indicate you wanted to work for us.”
“No. I definitely recall telling you I wanted to play football.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“There’s no ‘but’ to it. From the way you talked, I thought this letter simply meant your boss wanted to hire me.”
“He did. Does,” she stammered. “By signing it, what do you think you promised?”
“To take the job if I’m available after the doctor releases me. I figured it locked me into a salary and benefits and that if one of your competitors showed up and offered me a better deal, I’d have to turn them down.”
Color streaked up Crystal’s neck.
“Bingo! That’s precisely the reason you muscled your way in here and bullied me into signing. I might have grown up on a melon farm, Crystal, but I did not leave my brains underneath a vine.”
“I resent your insinuating I tricked you. I tried to talk Nate, André and Mike out of hiring you.”
He stared at her for a lengthy minute with an odd twist to his mouth. “Do you mind telling me why? Since we’ve never met before...”
“Not until yesterday.” The red extended to her ears now. “Look, negotiations won’t improve if we get personal.”
He crossed his arms and said provocatively, “See there? You’ve admitted to not knowing anything about me. I happen to think negotiations would improve a lot if we got personal. By the way,” he added in a low voice, “you ought to wear your hair down, instead of braided. Men have an age-old fantasy about women with long hair.”
Crystal jumped up, snatched her purse and her saxophone case. “Sexual innuendos aren’t acceptable in the business world. You’re crude. You probably belch, too, and pick your teeth in public. And now you have my objections to hiring you. Goodbye, Mr. Tanner. I’ve done what I was sent to do. If you get the urge to rip up your copy of the letter of intent, do call WDIX Human Resources. Otherwise, our attorney may be meeting with yours. If that happens, remember they’re the ones who eat caviar and drive Lamborghinis.”
His delighted laughter halted Crystal at the door. Before she could ask what he found so funny, the door opened and a burly male orderly blocked her way with a wheelchair.
“Caleb Tanner?” The man with his hand on the chair consulted a clipboard lying on the seat. “I’m a big fan of yours,” the orderly said. And he was if his look of awe was a measure of the truth.
Cale’s laughter died. “Thanks, man. What’s this all about?” He indicated the wheelchair.
“Didn’t Doc Forsythe tell you?”
Cale frowned. “Tell me what? He hasn’t been in today.”
“He signed an order for physical therapy.” The other man eyed Cale’s traction apparatus. “Maybe there’s been a mistake. Although I only pick ‘em up and transport ’em,” he said. “Normally guys don’t start therapy until they’re unhitched from traction.”
Caleb reached for the top pulley. “It’s simple enough to unhook. I’ve been champing at the bit waiting to start therapy.”
“Should you call someone?” Crystal asked the orderly.
He glanced at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Are you Tanner’s wife? That’d be a good idea, ma’am. I’ll phone the physical-therapy office right now.” He crossed to the phone on Caleb’s nightstand.
“I’m not Mrs. Tanner,” Crystal declared at the same time as Caleb said loudly, “I’m not married.”
He wasn’t? Crystal’s pulse gave a peculiar little hop and her breath caught in her throat. By the time she swallowed and managed to breathe, she realized the news that he was single had no bearing on anything. He’d honeyed, darlin’d and sweetied some woman with a sultry Southern drawl. Definitely someone who had the inside track to Tanner’s heart. That was supposing he had a heart and didn’t have a woman in every city the Sinners played.
The rattle and clank of metal on metal dragged her attention from her thoughts. Because Cale had unsnapped and dropped all the ropes and crossbars to his traction setup, the orderly had detoured from his mission to call the physical therapy department.
It wasn’t any of her business, but judging by the agony creasing Caleb’s face as he attempted to swing his leg off the bed, somebody should intervene. Crystal set her things aside and rushed to the bed. She picked up the phone. “What’s the extension for your department?” she asked the orderly. She definitely didn’t like the fact that he was listening to Caleb. Rather than phone for clarification, he’d rolled the chair over to the bed.
“Uh...171. We’re two floors down.”
Not knowing what that had to do with anything, Crystal nodded and punched in the numbers. Caleb caught her eye and glared.
“You have a football to deliver to some kid down the hall, don’t you?”
But she’d tuned him out, suddenly hearing a woman’s voice saying urgently, “Hello. Hello? I’m trying to reach Caleb Tanner. Is this room 306?”
Crystal shushed the men in the room with a brisk wave of her hand. “This is Mr. Tanner’s room. Is this the secretary in physical therapy? No? Oh, your name is Gracie. Ah...I understand. I must have picked up the phone to dial out just as the switchboard transferred your call in.” Covering the mouthpiece, Crystal turned to Caleb, who, although he grimaced in pain, now sat in the wheelchair. “It’s Gracie,” she said.
She expected him not to take the call. To ask her to say he was indisposed. Instead, he spun the chair’s wheels with his powerful arms, and before Crystal could let out her breath, he’d yanked the phone from her hand.
“Gracie, darlin’. This is a treat. Listen, shortcake, can I phone you back? What? Your watch quit and you found one at Nieman’s you like better? It’s yours, sweetheart. And a new suit? Gray pinstripe. A power suit, huh? I thought those were red. Why not red? I think you look pretty snazzy in red.” Caleb glanced up. He sucked in his breath and gritted his teeth as Crystal edged past him, accidentally bumping his tender knee.
“Where in hell are you going?” He clapped a hand over the receiver, then moved it back to his mouth and slid his fingers away. “I didn’t mean you, dumplin’. It’s kind of nutty here, Gracie. Forgive my swearing, shortcake.”
Crystal scooped up her things again and strode out the door with a quick backward glance. More of a glare, really. She hoped it conveyed how she felt about his laying it on so thick to the second woman in one day. How many others would there be? “You’re a cockroach, Tanner,” she said in a voice she hoped was loud enough for poor snookered Gracie to hear. “Slime. Please do rip up André’s letter. If you’re too weak after therapy, the nurses down the hall have a paper shredder.”
She sped out the door too fast to see the baffled expression shared by the men.
“What? Yes, Gracie, the lady did call me names. I know it’s hard to believe, darlin’. But not everybody thinks your brother hung the moon and stars.”
“And you might not, either,” he muttered glumly after they hung up. “If this leg doesn’t heal, and if I can’t bring myself to say no to you three girls, your stupendous fantastic brother may end up in debtor’s prison.”
The orderly chuckled. “I think those went out with the guillotine, man.” His face was still wreathed in smiles as he phoned downstairs to verify that Tanner was indeed scheduled to begin physical therapy.
