Butch covered her hand with his, then turned to Ronnie. “What did you see when you looked at those reports you’ve been sending?”
“A positive bottom line,” he replied. “Four-month goals being met in one-quarter of that time.”
The older man nodded. “Looked real good, too, didn’t it?”
“Sure,” Ronnie said, though he wasn’t at all certain where this was heading.
“But how many late nights did it translate into?” Butch asked. “How many times did you blow off the chance to spend time with your daughter or Dana Sue, so you could have an extra business meeting in the evening?”
Ronnie sighed as the point sank in. “Too often,” he admitted.
“I set you up with enough capital for the five-year plan we put down on paper. Succeeding in less time than that would be great, but not if it takes a toll on your personal life. Balance, son. Don’t underestimate the value of balance when it comes to setting your priorities.”
Ronnie got the message. Once again, he thought of what Brenda had told him about the situation in the kitchen. He glanced that way.
“You worried about what the waitress said earlier?” Butch asked. “About someone not showing up for work tonight?”
Ronnie nodded. “Dana Sue’s too stubborn to call for help, but on a Friday night this place turns into a zoo.”
“If you’d like to pitch in and give her a hand,” Jessie said, “we’ll be just fine.”
“That’s right,” Butch confirmed, his gaze locking with hers. “It’s not often I get my wife all to myself anymore. You go ahead and do whatever you can to help. I think I’ve gotten my point across, am I right?”
“Absolutely, and thank you,” Ronnie said. “I really appreciate it. Don’t forget that your dinner’s on me. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”
“No need for that. We’re partners, son,” Butch reminded him. “You’re doing plenty to keep your end of the bargain. Now, go on in there. I want to see if I can convince Jessie to stay at a motel with me tonight and pretend we’re honeymooning.”
Ronnie left the two of them with their heads together and a look in Jessie’s eyes that suggested Butch wasn’t going to have to do much persuading. Apparently she wasn’t half as hardheaded and impossible as the woman in Ronnie’s life.
* * *
Dana Sue wasn’t sure exactly when she noticed that she was feeling a little queasy and light-headed. It must have been right as the dinner rush kicked into high gear. Karen had bailed on her for the umpteenth time lately, which meant Dana Sue was going to have to deal with the headache of replacing her, something she’d been loath to do, knowing how difficult things were for Karen as a single mom. Still, she couldn’t have an assistant who was this unreliable.
Amazingly, Ronnie had once again come to her rescue. He’d breezed in the door a few minutes ago, plucked an apron from the hook in the pantry and asked for an assignment. He’d done it without commenting on her failure to schedule a doctor’s appointment, but she doubted she was off the hook. When she risked a look in his direction, she noticed he was chopping vegetables and making salads like a pro. She’d just turned to thank him for pitching in when she broke out in a sweat.
This wasn’t the first time it had happened. On each occasion she’d found a way to dismiss the symptoms, just as she’d dismissed them when her hand had felt a little numb and she’d had to put aside a knife and stop chopping until sensation came back. Adding up all the incidents suddenly frightened her in a way that each individual occurrence hadn’t.
She grabbed a stool and sat. Frightened by the light-headed feeling, which still wasn’t going away, she called Ronnie’s name, her voice little more than a frightened whisper. He whipped around and was at her side in an instant.
“You okay?” he asked, his hands on her thighs. “What’s going on?”
“I think her blood sugar must be all out of whack,” Erik said, immediately joining them, his expression worried. “She hasn’t been paying attention to what she’s eaten lately. Her blood-testing kit is in her office. I’ll get it.”
“No,” she protested, not wanting Ronnie to witness whatever evidence might show up in the results.
Ronnie looked into her eyes. “Sugar, we had this conversation the other night. You know you can’t play games with this, not if you have diabetes.”
“I don’t have it,” she said, shooting a disgusted look at Erik for ratting her out about her eating habits, and for being so quick to volunteer to get her testing kit. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Do I need to get you to a hospital, call 911, what?” Ronnie asked, calm and reassuring, but grimly determined.
Erik handed her a slice of cheese. “This should help. I’ll go get your kit.”
Within a few moments, Dana Sue could feel her body slowly returning to normal. “That’s better,” she said, regarding Erik gratefully as he returned. “No need to test now.”
“Either run the test or go to the hospital,” Erik said flatly.
“I’m with Erik,” Ronnie said. “Two choices, Dana Sue. We either call Doc Marshall and ask him to meet us at his office, or we go straight to the emergency room.”
She shook her head. “I’ll be okay. Besides, we’ve got a full house tonight. I don’t have time to go anywhere.”
“Annie could pitch in,” Erik suggested. “She’s learned some of the basics from you. And Helen said she’d come by anytime we need her. Believe it or not, she takes directions in here pretty well.”
“Call them,” Ronnie told Erik, then scooped Dana Sue into his arms. “Let’s go get you checked out, sugar.”
“Put me down, you idiot,” she snapped, even though it felt good to be cradled against his chest. “And don’t you think,
