Elementary, My Dear Watkins Read Free Page B

still getting so much therapy this long after her stroke. It had been more than a year, and she seemed almost completely recovered other than tiring more easily and needing the wheelchair for longer excursions. “I didn’t realize you were still under treatment.”
    “Oh, the therapy’s not for me these days. We have a young guest at the house—but that’s a long story. I’m sure you’d find her delightful, and I know she’d welcome a new face around there, particularly someone younger.”
    “What about Chewie?” Jo asked, knowing that her grandmother would never allow Jo’s rambunctious chocolate Lab to roam the hallowed halls of her home. Six weeks ago, when Jo was first injured and in the hospital and her own house had burned to the ground, her grandmother had offered Jo the use of her vacation home in the Poconos until she got back on her feet. Jo had accepted her offer, but when she learned that Chewie was not a part of the bargain, she had turned her grandmother down and made other arrangements.
    “Darling, that’s what kennels are for,” Eleanor answered, smoothing her skirt across her knees as she repeated the sentiment she had expressed the last time.
    “Yes, well, like the last time, that doesn’t work for me,” Jo said, instructing the driver to take her to the Times Square Marriott instead. “But thanks for the offer.” Forsaking her precious pet for the sake of a little convenience and pampering was out of the question.
    As they drove, Jo’s grandmother was quiet, seeming to be vaguely offended by Jo’s refusal. Jo tried to make conversation, asking more about her grandmother’s young houseguest, whoever she was, but the subject was closed. Finally, tired of the cold shoulder, Jo decided to change course and toss out something that was sure to get the woman’s attention.
    “I guess you’re wondering why I want to be dropped at Times Square rather than back at Penn Station,” Jo said matter-of-factly.
    Her grandmother shrugged, still staring out the window. “I suppose you’re going to the theater.”
    “No, I’m going to meet with Bradford,” Jo said, referring to the man who had jilted her at the altar last fall, ducking out of their wedding without excuse or explanation. Since then, she and Bradford had barely spoken, except for several irritating phone calls and one bizarre moment when he showed up in her hospital room six weeks ago, begging her for another chance at a relationship. Shocked and vulnerable, Jo had called for a nurse and had him removed from the premises.
    “Bradford?” Eleanor replied, turning to Jo, her eyes wide. “Last I heard, you were having him escorted out of your room by hospital security.”
    “Well, he deserved it,” Jo said. “Waltzing in there without warning and me lying there injured and helpless. The last thing I felt like doing was dealing with him.”
    “But you’re willing to see him now.”
    “We’re finally going to talk. He’s called a few times since then, asking me to meet with him, so I finally gave in. I think I need to find some closure. I suppose one meeting with him won’t kill me, and maybe it’ll help me put the whole relationship to rest once and for all. I still don’t know why Bradford dumped me then, or what he wants to tell me now.”
    “No chance of a reconciliation?” her grandmother asked. She had always been partial to Bradford, most likely because he was from a wealthy family and at one time had been a real up-and-comer in the family business, Bosworth Industries. Bradford used to work directly for Jo’s father, who was the CEO of the company. Since the whole wedding fiasco, however, Jo had no idea if he even worked there anymore or not. She and her parents didn’t talk about him, and she’d had no extended communication with him herself.
    “A reconciliation?” Jo asked, thinking of what her friend Marie would say: Not for all the pumps in the DSW Shoe Warehouse . Putting it in terms her grandmother