Restore My Heart (19 page)

Guess I could throw it at him
. Then she remembered the contents of her fanny pack. Uncle Sal’s gift, though not officially a weapon, offered the only protection available. Silently thanking him, she unzipped the pack. Just as her fingers closed around the slim transmitter, soft footsteps grew louder. Closer.

From behind the desk, Sally crouched, arms extended, poised to zap the intruder.

Sally’s heart jack-hammered her ribs. Her breath froze as unhurried footsteps brought terror toward her office. She tightened her grip on the transmitter.

Stained white coveralls filled the office doorway.
Familiar
coveralls. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, the wiry man shrank from Sally’s weapon.

“Dad!”

Her father grimaced. “What the hell’s that?”

She lowered her arms, relaxing the tensed muscles gripping the stun device. “Uncle Sal gave me this for protection after Roy’s murder. You frightened me.”

“If you’re that spooked, it’s a good thing I came in.”

“Why are you here?” she asked, realizing her father rarely darkened the door at Mustang Sally’s. At first, he’d been diagnosed with something called agoraphobia and never left the house. Treatment and medication eventually helped, although he rarely left the neighborhood.

“You still looking for a replacement for Roy?”

“Yes, of course. Tall order, I know.” She sank back into her chair, willing her quivering leg muscle to slacken. “Why? You have someone in mind?”

“Yeah. Me.”

“You?” Dad was asking her for a job? She forced her gaping mouth closed. “You want to work at Mustang Sally’s?”

He visibly bristled. “I’m plenty qualified.”

“Of course you are, Dad. I didn’t mean—”

“I can stay sober, if that’s worryin’ ya.”

“Frankly, it worries me plenty. What you do in your house is your business, but I can’t have beer on your breath at my shop.”

Her father worked his mouth, then clamped it shut. Sally knew her words and tone surprised him. Here she couldn’t be the dutiful daughter, riddled by guilt and old hurts. She was Mustang Sally, fighting to survive, to preserve the business into which she’d invested every one of her hard earned dollars.

He gave a tight nod. “Deal.”

“And I need your promise to take your Celexa tablet every morning.”

Another nod. “I took it. Now, put me to work.”

“You know Corvettes. You can take over— “

Pounding on the front door by the J-town Police cut her off.

“It’s okay. False alarm,” she shouted, grimacing at her father’s frown.

“You called the cops on me.”

She hobbled past him toward the entrance. “I didn’t know it was you, Dad.”

“Good thing it
was
me,” he muttered. “Or you’d be dead.”

Not what she needed to hear. She welcomed the police, who were followed by a pale Joe Desalvo.

“I’m sorry about the call, officer—”

The young patrolman waved away her apology. “Ma’am, we’d rather you call and let us check things out.”

“Better safe than sorry,” added the second police officer.

“Are you all right?” Joe mouthed behind the policemen’s backs.

Sally nodded. Her explanation of her father’s unexpected arrival satisfied the police, so they left. Joe hesitated by the door.

“I’m sorry I panicked, Joe.”

His half-smile revved her pulse. “After all that’s happened, you had a right.”

“What do you mean? What else has happened?”

She’d forgotten her father stood nearby. Funny how Joe’s presence clogged the filters to her brain. “Uh, Joe drove the Darrin to pick up his grandmother yesterday. Someone fired a shot, hitting Grandma.”

“She’s going to be all right,” Joe added. “She didn’t even need surgery. But it certainly gave us a scare.”

“That’s why I was so late getting home.” Not that he’d notice.

Joe’s clouded gaze settled on her. “I need to get back, but I hate leaving you here alone.”

“Dad’s staying. I’ll be fine.”

He nodded, his gaze darting toward her father. “Good. I’ll call you later.”

She lingered at the threshold and watched Joe stride to his grandmother’s PT Cruiser, his leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders. She’d like to hug his shoulders and more, she thought, fighting a smile. Shutting the door, she turned to face her father.

He was gone.

She found him rolling under the Corvette, flattened atop the creeper. The familiar motion seemed alien now. How many times had she seen her father slide under cars or dive beneath the hood? But not lately. Not for nine long years.

The enormity of his commitment hit her. Justin Clay had come to help her. Regardless of motive, he’d involved himself in her life. For the first time since the accident, Sally and her father were working side by side. Wasn’t that what she’d dreamed about? Why she’d risked so much to take over Sal’s business? Sure, she needed to make a living. Except for a few groceries, her dad’s lawn mower repairs paid none of the bills. But secretly, she’d nurtured a tiny hope that someday he’d be tempted by Mustang Sally’s. Someday he’d renew his interest in automobiles, emerging from his Rip Van Winkle escape from living.

Cautious not to raise her hopes, she pushed her thoughts back to business and turned toward the office. Back at her desk, she dialed the number for the
Courier-Journal
classifieds to cancel her help-wanted ad.

“Grandma must be doing better if she can have visitors,” Sally murmured to Joe as they got off the hospital elevator.

He guided her left, down a corridor of patient rooms, slowing his stride so she could keep up. “To hear her tell it, her hospital stay is unnecessary.”

“A bullet in the chest? Unnecessary?”

Joe chuckled. “Shoulder, not chest—thank God.”

“I really should wait outside.” Sally halted at the door to Grandma’s room. “I’m not family.”

Joe tugged at her arm. “Oh, no, you don’t. She specifically asked to see you.”

“Me?”

“Both of us.” He lowered his voice. “Prepare yourself. She’s up to something. I don’t know what, but we’ll soon find out.”

“Come in, you two, and stop whispering about me.”

Joe and Sally crowded between the high bed and the curtain drawn to add privacy to Grandma’s roommate. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Casale?”

“If you think I’m too old to address as Elinor, call me Grandma.” She winked at Joe, then extended her hand to Sally. With its IV needle taped to her papery-thin flesh on the back, her hand resembled a marionette’s. “I’d be a lot better if they’d stop pumping me full of drugs.”

Sally cradled the older woman’s hand in her palm. “Are they giving you pain medication?”

“Plenty of that, plus antibiotics and who knows what all.”

“How long will they keep you here, Grandma?” Joe asked.

She grunted her disgust. “Doc says maybe a week. A week! He thinks ‘cause I’m old, I don’t have commitments and obligations.”

“Is there anything Joe or I could take care of for you?”

Joe braced himself. Recognizing the gleam of satisfaction in Grandma’s eyes, he knew Sally had flung herself into the net.

“As a matter of fact, there is. Something really important, which is why I’m so glad you came to see me, dear.”

“We’ll do our best to help.” Sally patted Grandma’s arm in reassurance.

“I’m a Filly, you know. The Fillies put on the Kentucky Derby Ball, which is Friday. This year, I’m in charge of the Derby Queen crowning ceremony.”

Joe swallowed. “This Friday?”

“Right. When I took on the job, I’d assumed Leo and Lucinda would attend, with Leo organizing the crowning. I need you and Sally to stand in for them, Joe.”

Sally shook her head, the deer-in-headlights panic twisting her face. “No. Not me, Grandma. I—I can’t attend some fancy ball.”

“What about Fia and Brendan? I thought they were going?”

“They are, but I don’t want Numb nuts doing the honors.”

“Grandma!”
Numbnuts?
Joe smothered a laugh.

“I’m serious, Joe. Don’t let me down. And you, young lady,” she said, pinning Sally with her stare, “would fit right in at the Derby Ball.”

“Sally and I will talk it over, then let you know what we decide.”

Grandma wheezed, then clutched at her bandaged shoulder. “The—the nurse—get the nurse—”

Before he could react, Sally reached into the bedside railing and pressed the call button. When a voice answered, she asked for a nurse. “This woman needs help, please. Hurry!”

Joe led Sally from the room as the nurse and an aide rushed in. He caught the barest hint of a smile on his grandmother’s face.

“Let’s leave and let her rest.”

“Leave?” Sally dug in her heels, shrugging off his hand. “Don’t you want to make sure she’s going to be all right?”

Joe chuckled. “She’ll be all right, Sally, just as soon as we both agree to attend the Derby Ball.”

“You don’t think—”

“Are you kidding? Grandma’s a master at manipulating people.”

Sally glanced back toward the room, shaking her head. “Her distress seemed genuine to me.”

“That’s why she’s a master.”

Joe rushed from his morning shower to grab the ringing telephone.

“Joe? How’s it going?”

Great. Paul Grimsley, his boss, wasn’t phoning to discuss the odds of the favored horse in the Kentucky Derby. “Uh, could you hold on a sec?”

Joe rubbed at his dripping body with a bath towel, then stepped into his Jockeys before returning to the call. After a few minutes of small talk, Paul zeroed in on his real purpose in calling. “How soon will you be coming back?”

This from the guy who just last week told him, “Take all the time you need.” Joe took a calming breath. Then another. “Is there a problem, Paul?”

“Not exactly.”

“I’m keeping in touch with my clients. I check voice mail, return calls, check e-mails. Has there been a complaint?”

“You’re doing fine with your clients, actually.” Paul paused, cleared his throat, then coughed. “The thing is, your existing clients aren’t the problem. Your job also includes bringing new business to the firm. I don’t have to tell you this promotion depends on that.”

“I realize that, sir, and I have brought in new clients.” Joe’s thoughts flashed to the song
What Have You Done For Me, Lately?
“What’s the bottom line, here? When are you telling me to return to Atlanta?”

“Can you finish up your family obligations and be back the end of next week? That gives you about ten more days. That’s reasonable, don’t you agree?”

But Joe wasn’t ready to go back to Atlanta. The cutthroat pace of the investment world had provided him with a healthy income, a bright financial future. It had also cost him valuable time, time away from his family. Time away from his father.

“Yes, sir. That’s reasonable.”

Reasonable for his boss, perhaps. For the first time in his career, Joe Desalvo was no longer driven to be lead horse on the track. He had no idea what he could do about it. Decision by indecision? If he stuck it out in Louisville until he’d solved his father’s death to his mother’s satisfaction, he’d lose his promotion, possibly his job.

Or else he’d have to unravel the mystery by the end of next week.