“It’s forgotten. Really.”
“It’s not. Not by me.”
“Luke.” Michael gives Luke a kind look. “It’s not a big deal.”
“But I just feel—”
“We had a disagreement, that’s all. Since then I’ve been thinking about what you said. You do have a point. If Brandon Communications is publicly associated with a worthy cause, it can only do the company profile good.”
“I should never have acted without consulting you,” mutters Luke.
“Well. As you said, it’s your company. You have executive control. I respect that.”
“And I respect your advice,” says Luke at once. “I always will.”
“So. Shall we agree to bury the hatchet?” Michael extends his hand, all bruised from where the drip needle goes into it — and after a moment, Luke gently takes it.
Now I’m completely choked.
“I’ll just get some… water…” I mumble, and back out of the room, breathing hard.
I can’t burst into tears in front of Michael. He’ll think I’m completely pathetic.
Or else he’ll think I’m crying because I know something he doesn’t. He’ll think we’ve seen his medical charts and it wasn’t angina at all. It was a brain clot that is inoperable except by a specialist from Chicago who’s turned down Michael’s case because of an old feud between the hospitals…
OK, look, I must stop confusing this with ER.
I walk to a nearby reception area, taking deep breaths to calm myself down, and sit down next to a middle-aged woman. There are people sitting on upholstered seats and a couple of patients in wheelchairs with drips, and I see a frail old woman greeting what must be her grandchildren. As she sees them, her whole face lights up and suddenly she looks ten years younger — and to my horror I find myself sniffing again.
“Are you all right?” I look up and see the middle-aged woman offering me a tissue. She smiles — but her eyes are red-rimmed. “It gets to you, doesn’t it?” she says as I blow my nose. “Is a relation of yours in here?”
“Just a friend. How about you?”
“My husband, Ken,” says the woman. “He’s had bypass surgery. He’s doing fine, though.” She gives a half- smile. “He hates to see me upset.”
“God. I’m… really sorry.”
I feel a shiver go down my back as I try to imagine how I’d be feeling if it were Luke in that hospital bed.
“He should be be OK, if he starts looking after himself. These men. They take it all for granted.” She shakes her head. “But coming in here… it teaches you what’s important, doesn’t it?”
“Absolutely,” I say fervently.
We sit quietly for a while, and I think anxiously about Luke. Maybe I’ll get him to start going to the gym a bit more. And eating that low-fat spread stuff that lowers your cholesterol. Just to be on the safe side.
“I should go back,” says the woman, looking at her watch. She smiles at me. “Good to meet you.”
“You too.” I watch as she walks off down the corridor, then stand up and head back to Michael’s room, shaking back my hair and putting on a cheerful expression. No more dissolving into tears.
“Hi!” says Luke as I enter. He’s sitting on a chair by Michael’s bed, and the atmosphere is a lot more relaxed, thank goodness.
“I was just telling Luke,” says Michael as I sit down. “My daughter’s on at me to retire. Or at least downscale. Move to New York.”
“Really? Ooh, yes, do! We’d love that.”
“It’s a good idea,” says Luke. “Bearing in mind you currently do about six full-time jobs.”
“I really like your daughter,” I say enthusiastically. “We had such fun when she came into Barneys. How’s her new job going?”
Michael’s daughter is an attorney who specializes in patent law, and just exudes extreme cleverness. On the other hand, she hadn’t spotted that she was choosing colors that did nothing for her skin tone until I pointed it out to her.
“Very well indeed, thanks. She just moved to Finerman Wallstein,” Michael adds to Luke. “Very swanky offices.”
“I know them,” says Luke. “I use them for personal matters. In fact, last time I went in there was a few weeks ago. Just about my will. Next time, I’ll call in on her.”
“Do that,” says Michael. “She’d like it.”
“Have you made a will, Luke?” I say with interest.
“Of course I’ve made a will.” Luke stares at me. “Haven’t you?”
“No,” I say — then look from Luke to Michael. “What? What is it?”
“Everyone should make a will,” says Michael gravely.
“It never even occurred to me you might not have made one,” says Luke, shaking his head.
“It never even occurred to me to make one!” I say defensively. “I mean, I’m only twenty-seven.”
“I’ll make an appointment with my lawyer,” says Luke. “We need to sort this out.”
“Well. OK. But honestly…” I give a little shrug. Then a thought occurs to me. “So, who have you left everything to?”
“You,” says Luke. “Minus the odd little bequest.”
“Me?” I gape at him. “Really? Me?”
“It is customary for husbands to leave their property to their wives,” he says with a small smile. “Or do you object?”
“No! Of course not! I just… kind of… didn’t expect it.”
I feel a strange glow of pleasure inside me. Luke’s leaving everything to me!
I don’t know why that should be a surprise. I mean, we live together. We’re getting married. It’s obvious. But still, I can’t help feeling a bit proud.
“Do I take it you’re not planning to leave anything to me?” inquires Luke mildly.
“Of course!” I exclaim. “I mean — of course I will!”
“No pressure,” says Luke, grinning at Michael.
“I will!” I say, growing flustered. “I just hadn’t really thought about it!”
To cover my confusion I reach for a pear and start munching it. Come to think of it, why have I never made a will?
I suppose because I’ve never really thought I’ll die. But I could easily, couldn’t I? I mean, our train could crash on the way back to New York. Or an ax murderer could break into our apartment…
And who would get all my stuff?
Luke’s right. This is an emergency.
“Becky? Are you OK?” I look up to see Luke putting on his coat. “We must go.”
“Thanks for coming,” says Michael, and squeezes my hand as I bend to kiss him. “I really appreciate it.”
“And I’ll be in touch about the wedding,” says Luke, and smiles at Michael. “No skiving your best-man duties.”
“Absolutely not!” says Michael. “But that reminds me, I got a little confused at the engagement party, talking to different people. Are you two getting married in New York or England?”
“New York,” says Luke, frowning in slight puzzlement. “That has been finally decided, hasn’t it, Becky? I never even asked how your mother took the news.”
“I… um…” I play for time, wrapping my scarf around my neck.
I can’t admit the truth. I can’t admit that Mum still doesn’t know about the Plaza.
Not here. Not now.
“Yes!” I say, feeling my cheeks flame. “Yes, she was fine. New York it is!”
As we get onto the train, Luke looks pale and drained. I think it upset him more than he’s letting on, seeing Michael looking so helpless. He sits staring out of the darkening window, and I try to think of something that will cheer him up.
