The Color of Love by Radclyffe Read Free Book Online

a smile.
After a long moment, she whispered, “Take care of…the rest…two of you.”
    Derian’s eyebrows rose, and she glanced at
Emily. “Don’t worry. We’ll have it all covered.”
    Emily wasn’t sure what Henrietta intended by
that, but nothing mattered now except Henrietta getting well. She wasn’t sure
she could bear too many more days or nights in the hospital. She’d do anything
for Henrietta, except stand vigil while she slipped away. She squeezed
Henrietta’s arm. “It’s going to be all right. Derian will see to it. I love
you.” She backed up, avoiding Derian’s gaze. “I’ll…be outside.”
    Silently, Derian watched her go, wondering at
what old wounds put such pain in her eyes.
    Burns appeared at the end of the bed. “I have
to chase you out now or the nurses will skin me.”
    “Okay.” Derian leaned down and kissed
Henrietta’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry. I’ve got this. I love you.”
    Henrietta didn’t respond, and Derian forced
herself to step away. Henrietta would be okay, she had to be. Derian said
quietly to Burns, “What now?”
    “I don’t expect we’ll know much more until
the CT guys have had a chance to review all the tests. I’ll call you, or
whoever takes over from me will, when we have a plan.”
    “I’m her legal next of kin,” Derian said. “I
want to be sure I get the call.”
    “I don’t actually know anything about that.
That would be in her records.”
    Derian nodded. “Who should I check with?”
    “The nurses at the desk can pull up her
admission forms.”
    “Okay, thanks.” Derian held out her hand.
“For everything.”
    “She’s doing fine,” Burns said as he shook
her hand. “Someone will call.”
    Derian waited at the counter until an older
woman with curly gray hair, in a pink scrub suit covered by a smock that looked
like the kind of apron Derian’s grandmother used to wear, turned and noticed
her. “Can I help you, honey?”
    “I just wanted to check that you had my
contact information, and to be sure you had me listed as next of kin for
Henrietta Winfield.”
    The woman’s brows drew down as she looked
Derian over. “That’s you, isn’t it?”
    “Sorry?”
    “Derian Winfield. You race cars in Europe or
something?”
    “Ah, yeah, something like that. That’s me.”
    “Huh. Imagine that.”
    Derian didn’t bother to ask how she was
recognized. She made it a point not to look at the celebrity rags that graced
just about every newsstand in the world. There was nothing she could do about
paparazzi. Money attracted them like chum on the ocean drew sharks. She’d
learned to pretty much ignore what was written or said about her, since it was
99.9 percent fabricated to begin with. If she’d had as many women as the
tabloids made it out she did, she’d never get any sleep. Every time she
escorted anyone anywhere, the papers had them involved in some kind of hot and
steamy romance. Sure, she slept with some of them. But definitely not all. But
why bother to try to set the record straight. Who would care? And secretly, if
it pissed off Martin, she didn’t half mind.
    “Henrietta is my aunt.”
    The woman, whose name tag said she was
Penelope, tapped in some information on a tablet and scrolled with her finger.
“Yup, right here. Next of kin, Derian Winfield. No contact number, though.” She
glanced up. “You want to give me one?”
    Derian read off her phone number.
    “We’ve also got a copy of her living will and
medical directives.”
    Derian frowned. “You do?”
    “Yes, it looks like someone was very
thorough.”
    Emily. Had to be her. She struck Derian as the organized, detail-oriented type. Surely
it wasn’t Martin. Derian was definitely in her debt.
    “Thanks,” Derian said, suddenly, now that she
knew Henrietta was stable and being cared for, very much wanting to find Emily
before she had a chance to slip away.

Chapter Five

    Emily thought about leaving. She’d been at the
hospital for twelve