By the time we got me situated, I was sore enough to beg for another of those lovely shots the doctor had given me.
“I’ll see what I can do.” She gave me another pillow to prop me on my right side with my left elevated. Suddenly she stiffened. “Mr. Carson—”
I touched her hand. “He’ll only start yelling, then there will be supervisors and doctors called. It’s not worth the hassle, is it?”
I was facing away from the door, so I couldn’t see his face, but I could imagine he had his Arctic Bitch Face on.
She sighed. “You need to let her rest.”
“I’ll see that she rests.”
The nurse shook her head. “I hope he’s worth it,” she muttered as she pushed her cart across the room.
Blake dragged a reclining chair from the corner and situated it on the right side of my bed. He waited for the nurse to leave, then lined it up to run parallel to my bed. He sat down. “Sleep, Grace.”
I was tired and sore enough that I didn’t care if it made me look weak. I pulled his arm down onto the bed and hugged it close to my body and closed my eyes.
Sometime in the night I caught him reading something.
Annabelle’s diary?
I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to be sure.
Chapter Six
When I woke, Blake was gone, and Jack was sitting on the couch along the wall. He was twirling a pen between his fingers, the newspaper on his knee.
“Since when do you do the crossword puzzle?”
Jack grinned at me. “Mornin’, Gracie.” He dropped both on the end table. Curious, I peered down and all the answers were filled in save for one. “They still make you turn off your phone at the hospital. Who knew?” He shrugged. “I got bored.”
“Impressive.”
“Hardly. Now if it was the Sunday New York Times, I’d be gloating. Vi can do that one. In pen.”
“Kickass chick.”
“Damn right.” Jack stood up, then grabbed a small duffel bag off the couch. “How ya doin’?”
“I’ll survive.” I nodded to the bag. “If there’s a toothbrush in there, I’ll kiss you.”
“After you brush?”
I laughed. “Yes.”
“Deal.” He set the bag next to me. “Blake packed it and brought it into the office. He had a teleconference he couldn’t reschedule.”
“Dammit. Yeah, it was a pretty big investor.”
Jack nodded. “He’s got Donovan locked in. He was on the fence until you added in the vanity aspect. Lindsay York was really impressed with your design.”
I blushed. “It was simple. If I can convince Blake to try some other things, I think we might be able to extend the security glass into something even more marketable. Tinted glass has a limited application. This is the best of both worlds.”
Jack dipped his hand into his pocket, jangling his keys. “You’re good for him.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“No, it’s true. I don’t know how many people have gone into that showroom, and inquired about his clock. Blake won’t budge on it. Thinks the cost-effective and practical is the way to go.”
“We can do both. It doesn’t have to be the main branch of the business.”
“I agree. When I first met him, Blake was much more creative. He’d spend as many hours in the workshop as he did with his spreadsheets.”
“What changed?”
Jack dropped into the visitor chair near my hospital bed. “Finding investors for the security side was easier. Pretty soon we had fifty employees and a distribution deal. It was harder to take chances when we had so many people counting on us.”
As usual, I learned more about Blake from Jack or Violet. But I was glad my instincts were right in one regard. Blake loved the creation aspect of glass. He just buried it, like he did with so many other things.
Jack laced his fingers over his flat belly. “The word is getting out now. The orders have doubled since last quarter.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Too bad Blake doesn’t know how to enjoy the success. It’s just another goalpost for him. He’s looking to the next three instead of enjoying the one in front of him.”
“You don’t seem like the celebration sort, Jack.”
“Oh, I do.” Jack waggled his eyebrows. “I just do it off the clock.”
“Pig.”
And because I expected it, and we’d had this conversation a million times, he grinned. “Oink.”
“Good morning.” A chipper woman with a food tray came in. “Hope you’re hungry.”
I was, actually.
She slid the tray onto my rolling table and pulled off the lid. Jell-O cup, a box of orange juice, box of milk, and plain scrambled eggs stared back at me. “Have a good day.”
Jack glanced down at the tray and reached for my Jell-O.
“I slapped his hand.”
“Aww, come on.”
“Get your own orange Jell-O, slick.”
“There’s an idea.” Jack stood and hightailed it out the door.
When he came back with two cups, I rolled my eyes. “Con artist.”
“I didn’t con her. Much.”
We ripped off the tops and clicked plastic spoons.