sigh worthy, wearing nothing but a big white Turkish towel. “I’ve got a breakfast meeting at nine. I’m hoping to be finished by noon, but it could go later. I’ll call and let you know.”
She wanted to whine at him, to remind him that they had so little time left and he should get those meetings over with and get back to her fast.
But she caught herself. She had him with her only because of those meetings and whining never did anyone any good. She threw back the covers and went to kiss him good-morning.
He and Quentin were gone by a little after eight. She went down to her place to shower and change, stopping to knock on Viv’s door on the way out. No answer. The sisters were probably both at the hospital.
She ran into Marie, the super’s wife, on the elevator.
“I’m so sorry to hear about Viviana Nichols,” Marie said. “I talked to one of her daughters yesterday evening. They say she should pull through all right. I wonder if she’ll be moving to be closer to her family. It seems likely, doesn’t it, at her age? That’s such a nice apartment....”
“I have no idea what Viv’s plans are.” Lucy gave her a bland smile.
“How’s the prince? I didn’t realize you two were so...close.” The elevator reached the first floor. Lucy got off, Marie right behind.
“Fine,” Lucy said. “His Highness is doing fine. And yes, we are close. He’s a friend of the family.”
“But is that all?” Marie wanted to know.
“He’s been very kind to me.” Lucy headed for the door and couldn’t resist adding sweetly under her breath, “Last night, he took off all my clothes and was kind to every inch of me.”
“What was that, dear?” called Marie.
Lucy gave her a wave and called back, “Merry Christmas, Marie,” as she went out the door.
* * *
At the hospital, she sat with Marleah and Shoshona. The sisters reported that Viv was holding her own and would be in CICU for another few days at least. After that, if all went well, she would be out of intensive care and into a regular hospital room. If she continued to improve, they hoped that by the weekend she could go home.
The nurses let Lucy go in and visit with Viv briefly.
Viv was awake but still very weak. She whispered in a ragged little voice, “Hello, sweet girl.”
Lucy’s heart lifted at the words. She pulled up a chair and sat by the bed until the nurse came in and said she had to go.
Dami called her at a little after eleven. His meetings were going late. “It will be after four, I’m afraid, before I can get out of here.”
Lucy, in a cab on the way back to the apartment building, tamped down her disappointment and told him that Viv was doing well. “So, um, call me when you’re finished?”
“You know I will.” And he was gone.
Lucy wanted to cry. Like some big spoiled baby, she wanted to burst into tears because they only had until Thursday and now most of today would be gone before she saw him again. Really, how silly and selfish was that?
She stared out the window at the people rushing by on the street, at the Christmas decorations and window displays, at the Salvation Army bell ringer on the corner and the strange raggedy bearded fellow wearing a dirty fringed rawhide jacket and a coonskin cap. He stopped to throw bills into the bell ringer’s bucket.
It was the happiest time of the year. All the Christmas songs said so.
What was there to cry about?
Nothing, she told herself. Not one single thing. Viv was getting better and she would be with Dami that night.
She had the cabbie let her off in front of the Paradise Diner, where she had a bowl of clam chowder and told Tabby about Viv.
Tabby pulled her up out of her seat, hugged her and asked her why she seemed so down. “I mean, she’s going to make it, right?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure she will. And I’m not down.”
Tabby gave her two bags of oyster crackers. “Where’s the prince?”
“Working,” Lucy grumbled.
“Uh-oh. You’ve got it bad.”
“Oh, I do not. It’s not like that.”
Tabby frowned. “Like what, exactly?”
“I mean, we’re just, you know, having fun....”
“How long’s he here for?” Tabby asked way too gently.
Lucy opened one of the little bags and poured the crackers onto her chowder. “Not long enough.”
Nestor yelled something in Greek. Tabby turned around and yelled right back at him, also in Greek. Then she muttered, “Why do I put up with him?”
“He makes great clam chowder?” Lucy suggested.
About then, Nestor bellowed, “Order up!”
Tabby waved a dismissing hand in his direction and said to Lucy, “I’m off at two. And I do need to tell you all about Henry....”
“The Saturday-night guy?”
“Oh, yeah.” She put her hand against her chest and mimed a fast-beating heart. “He’s the one.”
Lucy hesitated. She did want to hear about Henry. And she could talk to Tabby. In fact, she might be tempted to start admitting things she hadn’t even admitted to herself yet. It would be wiser not to go there.
But who was she kidding? She needed to talk. “Come over to my place. I’ll be home.”
* * *
Lucy made them coffee. They sat in her living room. The view in there was of the wall of the building the next block over, but it was a cozy room, and you could see a little bit of the gray winter sky if you craned toward the window and looked up.
Tabby said she was falling for Henry O’Mara. “Saturday night, Sunday night. He’s coming over tonight, too.” Her parents weren’t happy. They were still after her to patch things up with the nice Greek man she’d almost married. “But I’m happy,” Tabby said with a giant grin. “Very, very happy in a big, big way.” She looked around the room. “Where’s the cat?”
“He’s up at Dami’s. We took him up there last night so I wouldn’t have to keep running down here to feed him. We took his litter box, too, which means if I haul him back down here, I need to bring the box. I mean, just in case, right? Ugh. It’s complicated.”
Tabby laughed. “So get a second litter box.”
“It’s only for a few days.”
“Ah, so that’s what’s going on with you.
