get you every time. But not me. Not if I can help it. Life’s too short to burn the candle at both ends.”
Delia relaxed somewhat, intrigued by this man who claimed there was more to life than work. “Are you retired?”
“Nope. Not yet. I’m an attorney. One of the hospital’s attorneys.”
Bryce would be livid if he learned that his wife was socializing with the enemy—“swamp feeders,” he used to call all attorneys. Oh, well. What Bryce didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Delia had never put much stock in the theory that a ticket to heaven included a pass with carte blanche to watch over surviving loved ones. At least, she hoped not.
Gabe inclined his head toward the banquet room. “Were you in the meeting?”
“Yes, I was, but my knee started cramping, so I came out here. That old arthritis. It acts up now and then, especially in this weather.” She raised a hand to her chest, feeling a nip of guilt over handing Gabe Burks a lie. Sometimes lies were necessary. Better a lie than revealing her contempt for the keynote speaker.
“Actually, I left because I was about to fall asleep,” Gabe said.
Total honesty. That brought about another flash of guilt in Delia. “Mr. Crabtree does tend to go on and on.” He also tended to create havoc in Anne’s life on a regular basis. The man had carried a torch for her daughter for years, and he continued to do so without Anne’s encouragement.
“I take it you’re a volunteer,” Gabe said.
“Yes. I spend much of my time at the hospital.” A sad commentary on her life.
“That’s admirable. I’m a little surprised we haven’t met, but then, I’m holed up in an office when I’m here.”
Applause rang out from the nearby room, signaling the end of Crabby’s speech. Delia felt obligated to say her goodbyes to friends before manning the lobby information desk for the afternoon—a reminder of how much she had conformed to proper behavior. “Well, I need to get on with my day, Gabe.” His name rolled easily off her tongue, as if she’d known him for years, not minutes.
“Yeah, I guess I should go, too.”
Neither of them moved for a long moment, until Gabe closed the gap between them with a few steps, catching Delia off guard. Yet she didn’t feel the urge to move back, perhaps because she wanted to get a better glimpse at his eyes to further assess him. A woman could tell a lot from a man’s eyes. His were a mossy green and reflected a certain self-assurance.
“Do you think you might like to have dinner with me sometime?” he asked.
“Me?” Good grief. Who else would he be talking to? Certainly not the wilting fern in the corner—unless in reality he had escaped from the psych ward. A possibility, Delia decided. Why else would he be asking her to dinner, a total stranger and a grandmother—granted, a grandmother in the process of being dragged kicking and screeching into her twilight years.
“Just dinner,” he said when she failed to respond. “Unless you already have a boyfriend, Delia.”
How funny to have her name mentioned in the same sentence with boyfriend. She hadn’t been involved with anyone since Bryce’s death. Nor had she even considered something so ludicrous, until now. “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”
His grin expanded, lighting up his eyes. “A woman as attractive as you ought to be fighting them off with a stick.”
He was out and out flirting with her. Flirting with Granny Delia. In response, Delia patted her hair and then did something even more absurd. She giggled. Giggled like a sixteen-year-old girl standing in the high school hallway, not a been-around-the-block-more-than-once woman standing in the corridor of a high-tech teaching hospital.
A few people began to filter out the double doors, mostly other Pink Ladies, who sent curious glances her way. Delia could only imagine what this looked like—Mrs. Bryce Cooper, M.D., engaged in a conversation with a man who was more than likely a few years her junior. An attorney, no less. Yet except for the giggling, the scenario would probably appear completely innocent to most. Just a volunteer talking to a member of the team. Then why did it seem that people were whispering behind their hands?
Feeling the need to flee, Delia said, “I really have to go, Mr. Burks.”
“It’s ‘Gabe,’ and you didn’t answer my question.”
She caught a glimpse of loneliness in his eyes, the same loneliness probably mirrored in hers at times, though she’d learned to hide it well. Perhaps even a hint of desperation. She sensed his request was costing him a lot. What would it cost her if she agreed? Oh, to hell with it. She hadn’t taken a risk in such a long time. What could be wrong about seeking companionship with a man? She was certainly beyond the age of consent. “Dinner would be nice.”
“Can I call you later?”
Excitement as fresh and welcome as dawn hurtled through Delia. “Yes. You can reach me here until 5:00 p.m. Or I’m in the phone book under B. Cooper on Magnolia.”
Nellie Mills, the medical center crier, picked that exact moment to rush up to Delia as if she had the demons nipping at her heels. “Can you believe it?”
Surely the main link to the hospital grapevine wasn’t already privy to the dinner date Delia had made only seconds earlier. “Believe what?”
“You don’t know about Dr. Morgan?”
She knew her son-in-law—former son-in-law—was supposed to be in the hospital, as always. She’d seen his name on the O.R. schedule while working in the surgery waiting room last week. Unless he’d never made it. A sickening feeling settled in her belly. “What about him?”
“He’s in ICU. I saw the admission when I was manning the information desk this morning. He had a stroke two nights ago.”
Delia’s frame went stiff and her mouth went dry. “Are you sure?”
“Sure as can be.”
A razor-sharp edge of anger over the pride in Nellie’s voice sliced through Delia. She had to find Anne, and soon, in case she had yet to hear the news.
Starting down the hall, Delia had all but forgotten Gabe Burks until she heard him call, “I’ll be in touch. Hope everything’s okay.”
She raised a hand in a brief wave without glancing back. “Thank you.”
Delia cursed the fact that her nice calm world had been rocked without mercy today, just when things were beginning to look up. Cursed her intuition. And deep down, she knew nothing would ever be the same again.
“I came as soon as I heard the news.”
Anne leaned against the open front door of her house for support and stared at her mother’s compassionate yet somber face. The rain had yet to subside, but Delia looked warm and dry, and much too young for sixty-six, though she had survived the death of her beloved husband and the divorce of her only child.
Delia shook out her red umbrella, snapped it shut, then set it aside in the foyer while Anne closed the door
