Chapter 9

“I hope so.” She put her purse in her file cabinet drawer, took another sip of the rich, sweet coffee and powered on her computer. “I can just see me sixty years from now chasing motorcycle gangs in my wheelchair.”

“Well…” He grinned lopsidedly. “You could, you know…try a wider range of nice guys. In case this one doesn’t work. Nolan’s not the only non loser around.”

“True.” She smiled at him. As usual he’d found a way to make her feel better. “You’re absolutely right, Nick, thank you so much. I’m being ridiculously pessimistic. This is my first attempt at a new life, and I can’t expect to hit it right, boom, immediately. Though, I’ll tell you, I have not, by any means, no way, given up on Nolan. I still bet we can get something good going.”

She scooted to the right again, leaned forward and kissed Nick’s cheek, making him blush fiercely, which she got a kick out of. He was such a great friend, always seemed to know when she was upset, really listened when she talked to him, anticipated her needs, sometimes before she knew she needed anything.

Like the coffee this morning. If he wasn’t already involved with Emma, Michelle would try to set him up with one of her friends. Jennifer maybe, who was dating that weird sculptor who was horrible to her. Michelle would think she should match herself up with Nick if she felt anything but friendly toward him. Sad to say, once again, when faced with a great guy, Michelle had absolutely no interest.

If she couldn’t get herself to fall at least a little bit in love with an incredible man like Nolan, she was very much afraid she was doomed.

___________

Nolan opened his eyes warily…and breathed a sigh of relief. His ceiling fan rotated silently above his bed. This was good. He was home, exactly where he was supposed to be. Even better, he remembered getting here, high-tailing it and driving across town, where he fell into bed immediately he got home. Now, his mind was sharp, he felt decently well rested, and he was alone in bed, though he definitely wouldn’t have minded waking up next to the Sleeping Beauty version of Candace again.

Having seen her in action awake, however, he had a feeling his stay at Michelle’s would go more smoothly if big sister relocated to Rosehill sooner rather than later. Judging by Michelle’s shocked reaction, Candace’s visit was a surprise detour. Maybe he’d delay moving in until she was gone. He’d think about it.

A big yawn, a stretch, and Nolan let his body relax again, blissfully. He sure as hell did not miss having to get up at 6:00 a.m., rush to work out, shower, shave, put on a suit and fight traffic to be downtown at the office by eight. Nor did he miss the long hours, the pressure,or the bad coffee. At the same time, the driving sense of purpose had been invigorating. In his world now, it was summertime and the living was always easy. An adjustment, more than he’d expected. Sometimes it felt too easy.

Certainly his brothers and his father were disgusted with his choice to quit his job and take some slow-down time to reevaluate his life. The Carringtons never slowed down. Much more honorable to drive oneself into an early grave than give up chasing the almighty dollar. The irony was that the family had plenty of money already.

Until this year, he’d bought into the family ethic until Heart-attack symptoms last winter landed him in the hospital with a diagnosis of acute stress. Instead of jumping back on the horse, Nolan promised himself he’d take six months off guilt-free to repair his exhausted body and brain before he committed to the next phase of his life, whatever that would entail.

He sighed. In the meantime, being the black sheep of the family had kept him busy enough, volunteering for Habitat for Humanity and indulging in woodworking, visiting museums, reading, making time for concerts, nights out with friends, travel…indulging all the interests he hadn’t had time for when his whole world consisted of work during the day and this bed at night.

He rolled to sitting, glad when his stomach stayed steady and his head stayed clear, though it still throbbed. His phone rang on the bedside table. It was his brother. “Hey, John.”

“Good, you survived the night.”

“Apparently.” He cut off a yawn. “What the hell did I drink, and is Phil in jail yet?”

“Police are involved. Yeah, Phil is strongly suspected.”

“Nice.”

“Listen, Dad called me this morning.”

Nolan rolled his eyes. Mom and Dad had moved to Chester last year, which meant Dad had to exercise his manipulative control-freak tendencies long-distance, usually by calling Nolan’s brothers instead of him. “How are they doing?”

“Head of the Foundation is leaving. Frank Bolliver.”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “That’s how they’re doing?”

“Dad thinks since you’re out of a job, you might want to consider taking this one.”

The old resentment leaped up, fresh and shiny new every time. “I’ll give that tons of thought.”

John chuckled. “Just the messenger.”

“Last week it was Tom telling me Dad’s golf buddy needed a partner in his firm. He doesn’t let up, huh.”

“In his own misguided way he’s trying to help. He thinks you’re lost at the moment.”

“What do you think?”

“Not my job to comment, man, but if you ask me, you’re spiraling downward big-time.”

“That’s what I thought.” Nolan stood, went to the window, peered out through the single pane at kids riding sleek narrow scooters down the block. “You ever wish you’d done something with your music?”

“Come on, bud. There’s a time when you have to lose the rock-star dreams and grow up.”

“Right.” He laughed to himself for the idiotic impulse of sharing himself with his own brother. That wasn’t how the Carringtons operated. “I’ll work on that.”

“Whoops, gotta answer this e-mail. Some of us still work for a living. I’ll let you know what I hear about Phil.”

“Yeah, have fun with that.” Nolan tossed the phone on his bed in disgust.

Sometimes he wondered how he was born into this family. He trudged toward the bathroom to scrub off anything left of his hangover and to brush his teeth. Three steps into the hardwood hallway, he tripped over a colorful plastic toy and had to jam his hand on the wall to keep from falling.