“That was insane tonight, Spencer. You were crazy to go inside. One of the shooters might still have been alive.” He shuddered at the thought.
“The cops had already gone in and the gunfire had stopped. They didn’t let me stay. The main floor is a mess.”
“You can get it cleaned up. Don’t think about it now.”
“I guess you’re right about the neighborhood,” she said sadly. “Our customers will be terrified to go there now.”
“We can talk about it tomorrow, but Spencer, you need partners. You can’t do it alone.” He was thinking that maybe she should sell the store. It was too much for any one person. “I want us to figure out a deal where we can invest and I can help you. Between fires and drug dealers and looters and God knows what, and the homeless, you’re a one-woman army. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m okay. I can handle it,” she said, with a chocolate ice cream mustache on her lip, and he smiled.
“You’re a holy terror.”
“I’m keeping the store for the boys one day.” He had guessed that. They were the next generation, but they were years away from being able to take over. She’d be ready to retire by then, if ever.
“What if they don’t want it?” he asked her seriously. “Kids are unpredictable.”
“Then they’ll sell it, but I won’t. That’ll be up to them.”
“Would you let them?”
“Maybe. It’ll be their decision then. I’m the gatekeeper for now.”
“That’s a hard job,” he said, just thinking about that night. “You have to move the store now.”
“I’ll start looking. Maybe something temporary, until we sell the building.” She hiccupped on a sob as she realized what she had just said and what it meant.
As soon as she finished her ice cream, he put their bowls in the sink and looked at her. “I’m putting you to bed. Where’s your bedroom?”
“Upstairs.” She walked upstairs with Mike behind her. She was at the opposite end of the hall from Francine and the boys, with a door that closed off her suite. He followed her in, closed the door, and waited in her bedroom while she took off her jacket and the blood-splattered hospital gown and put on a cozy cashmere nightgown. It wasn’t a seduction scene, he wanted to make sure she didn’t faint or fall or hit her head or go into shock again. She came out of the bathroom in her pink cashmere nightgown and a flowered D. Porthault robe.
“Now get into bed,” he said, and she giggled. The bandage on her arm looked enormous on her thin arm, and there was still blood seeping through, and it was starting to hurt. The anesthetic had worn off. She slid into her bed between the sheets, and he sat down on the bed next to her and stroked her hair, and then he bent down and kissed her gently on the lips. She was startled but it felt natural and right to her. The effect on him was searing, but he had no intention of following through now. The night had been too traumatic, for her, worrying about the store, and for him, terrified she would be killed once he knew where she was. “That’s all you get tonight,” he said with a smile, as she smiled up at him. “You’re an amazing woman. But you can’t do it all yourself. We’ll talk about everything tomorrow.” He kissed her again, and then he went to sit in a chair, before he could do something he might regret later, and stretched his legs out ahead of him to watch her sleep. He didn’t want to leave her and she didn’t mind his being there. She liked it. She opened her eyes once or twice to make sure he was still there. He didn’t say anything, he just watched her as she drifted back to sleep and he sat in the chair to be sure she was all right, and eventually he dozed off too, exhausted after the traumatic evening, and worried about her.
Mike woke up with a start with the sun streaming into the room, and a little blond boy in pajamas staring at him. Mike smiled at him, and whispered to him so they didn’t wake Spencer, who was sleeping soundly.
“Hi, I’m Mike. I’m a friend of your mom’s.”
“I’m Axel. Do you like pancakes?” Mike followed him out of the room, so they didn’t disturb his mother, and Axel’s identical twin was waiting for him on the stairs. Mike went down to the kitchen with them, where Francine was making pancakes and looked at Mike in surprise. She didn’t question who he was but could guess his presence was related to the shooting. She had assumed that Spencer had gone to meet with police once she knew she was out.