A Chance at Love (A Ferry Creek Novel): (a billionaire romance novel) (15 page)

“
Peggie,
”
Jess said.
“
Why would you say that?
”

“
I
’
ve never met a rich man before,
”
Peggie said.
“
Well, plenty of them said they
were rich but that was just in their mind. A few promised to rich in their
pants, if you know what I mean... but they all came up a few pennies short of a
dollar.
”

Peggie laughed and it made Sullivan
laugh. When he looked over at Jess she was mortified.

“
I
’
m just playing,
”
Peggie said. She got close to
Sullivan and he smelled the same scent of food and grease, only it was topped
with some kind of potent perfume.
“
Just
so you know, I appreciate you doing this for Bobby. He needs it. So does Bob.
Whatever the situation is... you
’
re
a good man.
”

“
Thanks,
”
Sullivan said.

Peggie nudged Jess as she wiggled
her eyebrows. It embarrassed Jess and she shook her head as Peggie walked away.
Richie came walking back with the trashcan behind him, the plastic wheels scratching
against the cracked paved lot. He nodded at Sullivan as he walked into the
diner.

“
Sorry
about Peggie,
”
Jess said.
“
But that
’
s just how she is.
”

“
I
wouldn
’
t want anything
less,
”
Sullivan said.
“
Just because I have a little bit
of money doesn
’
t make me
any different. I don
’
t
judge people. I expect honesty.
”

“
Well,
you
’
ll get that from
Peggie. That
’
s for sure.
”

“
What
about yourself, Jess? Are you honest?
”

“
The
best I can be,
”
Jess said.

“
Hey,
Jess, did you get...
”

Sullivan adverted his gaze from the
beautiful Jess to a man as he walked from the diner. He held an open folder
with yellow papers in it. When he saw Sullivan, he closed the folder and stood
tall. He met eyes with Sullivan and the instant connection and confusion set
in.

“
Bobby?
”
Sullivan asked.

“
Sullivan
Chasen?
”

“
How
about just Sullivan?
”

“
Fair
enough.
”

Sullivan had no idea what to do
next. The big bad businessman was stuck in his tracks. He couldn
’
t look away from Bobby and he
couldn
’
t move.

“
Jess,
can you...
”

Jess rushed forward and stole the
folder from Bobby
’
s hand.
She disappeared as Bobby walked toward the table and chairs.

“
This
is, uh...
”
Bobby started to
say.

Sullivan decided to break the ice
by avoiding everything obvious. Whether that was right or wrong, he had no
idea.

“
I
’
m hungry,
”
Sullivan said.
“
Know
a place where I can get decent food?
”

Bobby -
his brother
-
smiled.

Leslie poured herself another
coffee and stirred it longer than any person should ever stir a coffee. Three
sugars, two creams, one great cup of coffee. That
’
s
how she always ordered it. The enjoyment of coffee, however, in the past month
had become more of a necessity than that of a luxury. Sleeping had become nearly
to non-existent. Watching Bob struggle to hold on was painful. Knowing he
should have been dead weeks ago was tragic. But the way she felt about Bob,
loving him like anyone would love their father, that was real. That was very
real. Yet Leslie was the one who saw him the most and watched it all happen.
Day after day. She did it by choice, a fighting choice because everyone knew
Leslie shouldn
’
t have been
with Bob. The emotional connection was too great, but it was that emotional
connection that Leslie used to ensure she would be by Bob
’
s side for as long as possible.
She considered herself Bobby
’
s
second set of eyes while he ran the diner and struggled to figure out his life,
especially now with a newly discovered brother. Leslie had heard it one before.
She assumed it to be a passing rumor. A lot of the nurses loved to gossip and
most of it was garbage. When Leslie mentioned it to Bobby, he tried to avoid
it. Leslie let him, but then Bob chimed in, spilling it all. In fact, Bob
wouldn
’
t stop talking about
it once he started. Everything was about his son. His oldest son. About
Sullivan.

Last Leslie heard, it was true. Bob
had a son named Sullivan. What a secret to keep. It didn
’
t seem like the man who spent his entire life
giving everything he could to everyone in Ferry Creek.

Leslie sipped the coffee and slowly
made her way to Bob
’
s room.

He had been stable for the past few
days, which was a surprise but it didn
’
t
mean a thing. Bob
’
s heart
stood no chance. The effects of the stroke were too much and everyone knew it
was only a matter of time. Bob insisted on waiting to see his oldest son and
everyone else would just have to put up with him.

Leslie eased into the room and
found Bob trying to sit up. He pushed with his hands, his frail body disagreeing
with his decision. He was so weak and disoriented.

“
Bob,
what are you doing?
”
Leslie
asked.

“
Nothing,
”
he said. His voice was as weak
as a his body.
“
Trying to
move a little.
”

“
You
can
’
t,
”
Leslie said.
“
Your heart.
”

“
To
hell with that,
”
Bob said.
“
Everything
’
s already gone. Only one last
thing to do.
”

Leslie helped Bob get comfortable.
She sat next to his bed. She casually glanced at the heart monitor. She made
mental notes of his blood pressure and checked everything else hooked up to
him. The fear was that any sudden movement would end Bob
’
s life. He had spent most of his time sleeping,
coming out of sleep to barely eat only and then fall back asleep. Doctors tried
surgery but it would only prolong Bob
’
s
life by hours, days if he was lucky. This was simply a waiting game that should
have been long over.

“
One
last thing,
”
Leslie said.
“
What
’
s that?
”

“
See
my son,
”
Bob said.
“
My oldest son.
”

“
Bob...
”

Bob shook his head. He didn
’
t want to hear anything else but
what his mind told him.

“
Bobby
found him,
”
Bob said.
“
That
’
s all that matters.
”

“
That
doesn
’
t mean he
’
ll come down here,
”
Leslie lowered her head.
“
I
’
m
not trying to hurt your feelings.
”

“
You
know, there was a time when you came into the diner,
”
Bob said, taking heavy breaths every few words.
“
You
’
d come in and study so hard. You were so intent on
being a nurse. Nobody could stop you. You believed in it that much...
”

Bob sounded short of breath.

Leslie stood up. She gently touched
his shoulder and smiled.

“
Okay,
Bob,
”
she said.
“
That
’
s enough. You can
’
t
get all worked up.
”

Leslie
’
s leg began to vibrate. Her cell phone then rang.
She looked at the screen and saw it was Bobby.

"It's Bobby calling," she
said as she backed away from the bed.

She answered the call and Bobby
whispered for her to leave the room. He knew she was there without asking,
that's just how much time Leslie had spent with Bob. Part of her believed that
some missing medical information would click in her mind to cure him. Like what
always happened in the TV shows. But Leslie wasn't a doctor and there was no
curing Bob.

"I'm out of the room
now," Leslie said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Bobby said.
"I'm in the back of the diner, I can't talk loud."

Leslie heard the sound of sizzling.
"Are you cooking?"

"Yes."

"The diner's closed."

"Yeah, well, I have a special
guest today."

"Special guest?"

The first thought that went through
Leslie's head then was that Bobby was going to sell the diner. Maybe he had the
all powerful Jeff Grant, Ferry Creek realtor, in the diner to discuss the
options for the place. If that were the case then Leslie would sell everything
she owned and would find a way to convince others to get involved and save the
diner. If Jeff sold the diner it wouldn't be to a resident. He'd look outside
Ferry Creek. He might even look to a big, corporate developer. The last thing
Ferry Creek needed or wanted was to be infiltrated by conglomerates.

"Leslie, are you there?"

"Right here," she said.
"I'd like to know what's going on. You have me nervous."

"Leslie... he's here."

"Who is he, Bobby?"

"My brother... Sullivan Chasen."

Leslie's mouth fell open and her
heart skipped a few beats. She touched her chest and found her breath again.

"Oh. Bobby. I..."

"It's okay," Bobby said.
"I'm fine. I knew he was coming today. I just, uh, wanted to tell
you."

"Want me to tell your
father?" Leslie asked.

She heard Bobby breathing, the food
cooking, and could almost hear the wheels in his mind turning.

"Is it safe to assume Sullivan
will meet him?" Bobby asked.

"I'm sorry but I can't answer
that," Leslie said. "Neither can you probably. I can tell your father
that he's here, right? However, I don't want to give hope and..."

Leslie's throat tightened up. She
lost her words just as the tears arrived. Just the thought of Bob dying got to
her. She was a nurse. She had seen plenty of patients lose their battles to
illness, injury, and age. But this was deep and personal. She wished Bob was
right there to hug her. To console her.

"I'm sorry," Bobby said.
"I didn't call to upset anyone. Listen, I can't really talk long. He's
talking to Jess right now. I just had to call someone. You popped into my head
first."

"I'm glad you called,"
Leslie said. "Your father is really alert today. He's trying to sit up. He
looks good."

Leslie winced when she said the
last part. What use was it telling someone a dying man looked good? Just
because Bob looked good now didn't mean that in two seconds his heart wouldn
’
t give out once and for all.

"Tell him," Bobby said.
"Tell him Sullivan is here."

"Are you sure?"

"Leslie, I'm not sure of
anything anymore," Bobby said.

Leslie couldn't agree more.

She ended the call and walked back
into Bob's room. She slid her phone into her pocket and licked her lips, trying
to think of how to tell Bob about Sullivan. Telling him would be easy if
Sullivan didn't come see him, she
’
d
hate for him to die heartbroken.

"Is everything okay?" Bob
asked.

He looked tired now. Just in the
span of, what, ten minutes? That's how weak his body was. Any kind of movement
took his energy. His body needed the energy to keep his frail heart pumping.

"Bobby is just fine,"
Leslie said. She stood at the side of the bed. She took a deep breath.
"But I do have something to tell you, Bob. I have some good news... about
your oldest son..."

Sullivan looked around the diner
and smiled. It certainly made you feel at home. The walls weren
’
t perfect. The floors weren
’
t either. Some of the tiles had
hairline cracks. The stools were aged, some more than others. Everything about
the place screamed
upgrade
and the keen eye of Sullivan couldn
’
t help but find all those
imperfections because that was his job.

In reality, Sullivan wouldn
’
t have changed a thing if he
were in charge. Everything had its own story.

“
Take
a seat,
”
Bobby said and
opened his arms to the counter.
“
I
’
ll throw something on for us.
”

“
Oh,
I was half joking,
”
Sullivan said.
“
You don
’
t have to cook.
”

“
Don
’
t worry about it,
”
Bobby said.
“
There
’
s plenty to talk about. Least we could do is talk
with full stomachs.
”