making her an emotional wreck. She was so scared inside she was sick. Before she had left Holy Oaks, she had called the rectory and had spoken to Monsignor McKindry, uncaring that she was acting like a neurotic mother hen. The monsignor had a kind, gentle voice, but his news wasn’t good. Tommy, he’d explained, was back at the hospital. And no, he’d told her, the doctors hadn’t been happy with the preliminary tests. Laurant was sure she knew what that meant. Her brother was undergoing another brutal round of chemotherapy.
Damned if she’d let him go through that ordeal without family by his side this time. Family . . . he was the only family she had. After their parents’ deaths, she and her brother, children at the time, had been forced to grow up on opposite sides of the ocean. So much had been lost over the years. But things were different now. They were adults. They could make their own choices, and that meant they could be there for each other when times got rough.
The alternator light went on just outside the town of Haverton. The filling station was closed, and she ended up spending the night at a no-frills motel there. Before leaving the next morning, she stopped by the motel office and picked up a map of Kansas City. The clerk gave her directions to the Fairmont which, he informed her, was close to the art museum.
She still got lost. She missed her exit off of I-435 and ended up too far south on the highway that circled the sprawling city. Clutching the soggy map she’d accidentally spilled Diet Coke all over, she stopped at a gas station for more directions.
Once she got her bearings, getting to the hotel wasn’t difficult at all. She followed the street marked State Line and headed back north.
Tommy had told her that Kansas City was pretty and clean, but his descriptions didn’t do the city justice. It was really quite lovely. The streets were lined with well-manicured lawns and old, two-story houses with flowers in bloom everywhere. Following the gas station attendant’s instructions, she cut over to Ward Parkway, the street that he had promised would take her directly to the Fairmont’s front door. The parkway was divided by wide grassy medians, and twice she passed groups of teenagers playing football and soccer there. The kids didn’t seem to mind the oppressive heat or the stifling humidity.
The street curved down a gentle slope, and just as she began to worry she’d gone too far, she saw a cluster of pretty Spanish-style shops up ahead. She guessed that this was the area the motel clerk had called the Country Club Plaza and she felt a sense of relief. A couple of blocks farther and there on the right was the Fairmont.
It wasn’t quite noon yet, but the hotel clerk was gracious about her wilted condition and let her check into a room early. An hour later she was feeling human again. She’d been driving since early that morning, but a long, cold shower revitalized her. Even though she knew Tommy wouldn’t mind if she showed up at the rectory wearing jeans or shorts, she’d brought along “church” clothes. It was Sunday, and noon mass would probably just be getting out when she arrived. She didn’t want to offend Monsignor McKindry, who, Tommy had told her, was extremely conservative. He’d joked that if the monsignor could get away with it, he’d still be saying mass in Latin.
She put on a pale pink, ankle-length, linen, sleeveless dress with a high mandarin collar. The skirt had a slit up the left side, which she hoped Monsignor wouldn’t think was too racy. Her long hair was still damp at the nape, but she didn’t want to mess with it any longer, and after she fastened the dainty straps on her sandals, she grabbed her purse and sunglasses and went back downstairs.
The heat felt like a slap in the face as she stepped outside, and she couldn’t quite catch her breath for several seconds. The poor doorman, an elderly man with salt-and-pepper hair, looked in jeopardy of
Damned if she’d let him go through that ordeal without family by his side this time. Family . . . he was the only family she had. After their parents’ deaths, she and her brother, children at the time, had been forced to grow up on opposite sides of the ocean. So much had been lost over the years. But things were different now. They were adults. They could make their own choices, and that meant they could be there for each other when times got rough.
The alternator light went on just outside the town of Haverton. The filling station was closed, and she ended up spending the night at a no-frills motel there. Before leaving the next morning, she stopped by the motel office and picked up a map of Kansas City. The clerk gave her directions to the Fairmont which, he informed her, was close to the art museum.
She still got lost. She missed her exit off of I-435 and ended up too far south on the highway that circled the sprawling city. Clutching the soggy map she’d accidentally spilled Diet Coke all over, she stopped at a gas station for more directions.
Once she got her bearings, getting to the hotel wasn’t difficult at all. She followed the street marked State Line and headed back north.
Tommy had told her that Kansas City was pretty and clean, but his descriptions didn’t do the city justice. It was really quite lovely. The streets were lined with well-manicured lawns and old, two-story houses with flowers in bloom everywhere. Following the gas station attendant’s instructions, she cut over to Ward Parkway, the street that he had promised would take her directly to the Fairmont’s front door. The parkway was divided by wide grassy medians, and twice she passed groups of teenagers playing football and soccer there. The kids didn’t seem to mind the oppressive heat or the stifling humidity.
The street curved down a gentle slope, and just as she began to worry she’d gone too far, she saw a cluster of pretty Spanish-style shops up ahead. She guessed that this was the area the motel clerk had called the Country Club Plaza and she felt a sense of relief. A couple of blocks farther and there on the right was the Fairmont.
It wasn’t quite noon yet, but the hotel clerk was gracious about her wilted condition and let her check into a room early. An hour later she was feeling human again. She’d been driving since early that morning, but a long, cold shower revitalized her. Even though she knew Tommy wouldn’t mind if she showed up at the rectory wearing jeans or shorts, she’d brought along “church” clothes. It was Sunday, and noon mass would probably just be getting out when she arrived. She didn’t want to offend Monsignor McKindry, who, Tommy had told her, was extremely conservative. He’d joked that if the monsignor could get away with it, he’d still be saying mass in Latin.
She put on a pale pink, ankle-length, linen, sleeveless dress with a high mandarin collar. The skirt had a slit up the left side, which she hoped Monsignor wouldn’t think was too racy. Her long hair was still damp at the nape, but she didn’t want to mess with it any longer, and after she fastened the dainty straps on her sandals, she grabbed her purse and sunglasses and went back downstairs.
The heat felt like a slap in the face as she stepped outside, and she couldn’t quite catch her breath for several seconds. The poor doorman, an elderly man with salt-and-pepper hair, looked in jeopardy of
Similar Books
