Interior Motives Read Free Page A

pulled into a soft Gibson-girl knot at the top of her head, and the lapels of her pale mauve silk suit were embellished with tiny seed pearls. A spectacular strand of more pearls, golden and marble sized, circled her neck, while the diamonds on her hands sparkled in the weak incandescent light of the table lamps.
    At her side a gentleman stood tall and strong, his hair a steely gray, his eyes almost the same color. But something about his gaze struck me as odd. Sadness swept over me, even though I had no idea why.
    “Jacob darling,” Darlene said with a pat to one of the overstuffed beige sofas. “Come sit here while I talk with Teddie. You’ll be in the sun, and you know you like that.”
    The haunting gray eyes turned to Darlene, then to Tedd, to me, and finally back to Darlene. A frown creased Jacob’s high forehead.
    “Who . . . who are you?”
    My stomach sank to my toes. His disorientation spoke loud and clear. Dementia, possibly Alzheimer’s. How terribly sad.
    With infinite patience Darlene murmured more soothing words. Tedd waited at their side, silent, a soft smile on her lips. I stepped back so as not to disturb Jacob any further.
    I prayed under my breath. I asked for strength for Darlene, clarity for Jacob, wisdom for Tedd.
    A tear slid down my cheek.
    Dutch’s large, warm hand settled on my shoulder, and I surprised myself when I leaned back.
    “Tough, isn’t it?” he whispered.
    “I can’t begin to imagine.”
    Darlene took a magazine from the central coffee table, opened it to a colorful ad, and placed it in Jacob’s hands.
    I glanced at my erstwhile nemesis. “Awesome, isn’t she?”
    He gave me a crooked grin. “I don’t think I could ever come up with that much patience.”
    “And love . . .”
    “For better or for worse . . .”
    We watched for long moments until Willa, Tedd’s new secretary, stepped out from behind her reception desk and sat next to Jacob. With gentle words she struck up a one-sided conversation with the elderly man.
    Only then did Darlene turn to Tedd. “He’s had a bad week.”
    “And you?” Tedd asked.
    Darlene shrugged. That’s when I noticed that her suit dwarfed her. Either she’d borrowed the outfit, which I doubted, since it seemed so perfect for her, or she’d lost weight—a great deal of weight—since she’d bought it.
    Her sigh was more sob than sigh. “I start treatment again next week.”
    Tedd tried to hide her reaction to Darlene’s words, but I’d come to know her pretty well in the last year. The tiny flare of nostrils and the quick blink revealed her shock.
    She only nodded. “Want to come in now?”
    Darlene stepped into Tedd’s counseling office, her shoulders high, her step firm, her demeanor made more tragic by the display of courage.
    Before the door closed, Tedd asked, “How many chemo sessions will you need this time?”
    I looked up at Dutch.
    He looked down at me. “The doors are no big deal.”

2
    After that it was hard to find fault with Dutch or to hassle over details; I’d just had a look at the greater scheme of things. My troubles were nothing compared to the burden Darlene carried.
    I focused on the paint technique I’d chosen for the office walls. For that certain south-of-the-border flavor, without going touristy Mexican, I’d decided on a plaster and glaze finish that would—I hoped—make the plain old drywall look like aged adobe. By the time I’d coated a couple of feet of wall in the tinted goop, I wore almost as much of it as the drywall itself did.
    “That is fascinating,” Darlene said.
    “Ack!” I spun around, the trowel full of glop in hand, and dropped a big splat of the stuff at her feet. “I didn’t hear you.”
    She smiled, although the smile didn’t quite make it to her Liz Taylor violet eyes. “I knew Teddie was having work done to the office, and I asked her if I could take a peek. I love what you’re doing.”
    My grin came out crooked. “To the walls or to my clothes?”
    Her laugh