Michael's Father. Melinda Curtis
“The one that good-looking actor gave you?” Cori asked, trying to keep her tone light as she reached for her phone.
“Ronald Reagan was our president,” Sophia replied with mock dignity.
Ever since Ronald Reagan had given the vase to Sophia, Luke and Cori had teased her about her crush on him. Cori hoped she wouldn’t find that vase in pieces in the hall.
As Cori answered the telephone, she went in search of her son. His fast-retreating footsteps on the hardwood floor, punctuated with a door slam, signaled his escape to the pink room.
“Cori, I need some PR angles for Nightshade, pronto,” Sidney Collins, Cori’s boss, trilled in her ear. “They liked what you proposed last week, but they want to hear some other ideas from you, just to be sure the first one is the best.”
Cori sighed heavily, as much in response to Sidney’s request as at the sight of Ronald Reagan’s vase in pieces scattered across the floor.
“Not again.” Cori peered into the bedroom at Michael, shaking a finger at him when he looked up from his cartoons.
“I didn’t do it,” he whispered.
“Yes, again.” Sidney didn’t sound happy, either. “Just because they’re so forward thinking they can’t recognize brilliance when it’s right in front of them doesn’t mean we don’t jump through the hoop when they snap their fingers.”
“Tell them we’re out of recommendations. Tell them that was our best idea and the others were so bad we won’t even show them.” Cori stomped down the back stairs in search of a broom.
“No way. Bell-Diva’s new vice president of marketing was talking to the Parker Agency, just testing the waters, he said, but we’ll lose the account if we don’t shine, and shine brightly, in the next few months.”
“I did shine. That last press release was picked up for a segment on the Today Show. Let Adam Parker deliver that.” Collins & Co. was taking off, creating great buzz for their clients, who told others of their success. They were so busy that Cori was starting to wonder if she had any fresh ideas left. The pace had become grueling. If Sidney hadn’t taken a chance on Cori right out of college and stuck with her through the pregnancy, Cori would have moved on by now to someplace where she could be in the spotlight less and with her son more.
“I’m sure Adam Parker will promise them everything. You know him. He’d sell his mother the Brooklyn Bridge if he thought he could make a buck. Seriously, Cori, Bell-Diva is half our billings right now.”
Cori lowered her voice to a whisper. “And more than half of my headaches. I really don’t have time for this.” She knew that the deal she’d struck with Sidney to work from Sonoma was going to cause a snag or two along the way, but she hadn’t expected a problem to arise so soon. At least she could do her public relations/spokesperson job with a telephone, e-mail and fax—as long as her clients didn’t require a meeting or hold an event where her presence was mandatory.
“Nobody has time for this, but nobody knows their business better than you do.”
“And they pay their retainer on time.” Wearily, Cori beat Sidney to the punch, resigned to the fact that she was going to have to work some more today, realizing that keeping her job while helping her mother wasn’t going to be easy. Even as she thought this, several rough ideas started teasing their way through her brain. She would need to go to the store to check on some things first. She ended her call with a promise to get back to her as soon as possible.
Luke strode into the hallway, cell phone glued to his ear while he listened intently, muttering an occasional “Uh-huh.”
“Thank God, Luke. Can you stay with Mama for an hour, maybe two? I’ve got to run to the store.”
“Uh-huh,” Luke mumbled, stepping past Cori into Mama’s bedroom.
BLAKE STUCK HIS HEAD in Sophia’s open bedroom door, expecting to see Cori sitting with her. But Cori’s mother was alone.
“Where’s your posse, Sophia?” Blake tried to make light of his concern as he held back a frown.
“I’m not sure.” Sophia blinked rapidly. Midday sunlight streamed through the windows directly into her eyes. “I called…”
“She left you alone?” Arthritis kept Maria downstairs most of the time now. A second maid cleaned the upstairs twice a week. Blake wouldn’t have left Sophia for so long if he’d known Cori wasn’t going to be with her. And here he’d hoped Cori’s presence would make it possible for him to handle his full workload again.
Blake crossed the room and yanked the drapes closed.
“Cori has a little boy to take care of.” Sophia defended her daughter. Her frail hand moved slowly back and forth over the bedspread and her small feet fidgeted under the covers.
“Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”
“Maybe some help to the ladies’ room.”
Blake’s jaw clenched as he wondered how long Sophia had been waiting. She was too weak to stand by herself without help.
Footsteps coming upstairs, along with the excited voice of a child and the crackle of bags, indicated Cori and the kid were back.
Blake’s face settled into a disapproving frown. Why would Cori leave her mother alone on her first morning back?
“I told you before, Michael, you cannot drink anything we bought today except the soda.” Cori peeked in the room and waved, her smile strained.
“I like beer. I do,” the kid whined.
Blake’s mouth fell open. The kid liked beer?
“No, Michael, you don’t.”
Although Cori lowered her voice, Blake still caught her words and her blush before she ducked out of the room.
What the hell was that all about?
Blake helped Sophia to the bathroom, then stood outside the door while she did her business. He helped her back to bed, his body rigid with tension. With her mother dying, Cori was off shopping for beer? The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. But when Blake excused himself, intending to seek out Cori to force-feed her a much-needed dose of reality, Sophia stopped him on his way to the door.
“Don’t.”
Blake tried to relax his taut features as he gazed down at the woman who’d taken him and Jennifer into her heart. Sophia Sinclair had to be one of the kindest, most generous women on earth. She deserved better treatment from her daughter.
“You need her,” he said, not even pretending to misunderstand.
“This is harder on Corinne than you think. I’ve been in her shoes, watching helplessly as my mother died. She was in school and traveling with my father when I had cancer the last time. I thought it would be easier on her.” She drew a shaky breath. “Let me decide how she helps me.”
Okay, so maybe Sophia had spotted Blake’s irritation and suspected his reaction. She always had been one sharp lady. But this was hard on everyone, and Blake wasn’t about to shelter Cori. Sophia wanted her here, so Cori needed to stay by her side and make sure Sophia was comfortable. Blake took one purposeful stride toward the hall.
“Promise you’ll let me handle Corinne.” Sophia’s soft words stopped Blake again.
He looked back at the frail, dying woman. Blake wanted to make Sophia’s last days as peaceful as possible. Allowing Cori to behave irresponsibly would make things that much more difficult for everyone, especially Sophia. She was getting weaker every day—she was nearly bed-ridden—yet all Cori seemed to see was a sick woman resting in bed.
Blake struggled with his anger for a moment before asking “Why?”
“I have my reasons.” Sophia’s eyes closed