Anything for You
Page 48

“I’m torn between this lace, and this lace,” Bailey said. Connor closed his eyes.
“Hi, Connor!”
“Hey, kid!” Reprieve, in the form of his ten-year-old sister. He opened his arms for a hug. “This is my sister, Savannah,” he told the wedding chick.
“Oh! How darling!” She practically slid off the seat in rapture. All this and he loves children, too! Yes. Connor would kill Colleen.
“Hello, son.”
“Dad. Gail.”
“Hello there,” Gail said.
“I’m Bailey.” Bailey held her hand out to Gail. “You must be Connor’s parents! What a wonderful job you’ve done raising him.” Gail grimaced. Well, at least there was that. Gail wasn’t even forty, and she’d just been taken for Connor’s mom. She looked a little better than the last time Connor saw her, and back to her slutty-style outfits: skin tight and low cut.
“My father and stepmother,” he said, because he had to.
“So nice to meet you!” Bailey said. “We were just talking about weddings!”
“My brother loves weddings,” Colleen said, appearing with all the subtlety of the obese manatee she resembled these days. “He gave me away at mine. We’re twins, did he mention that?”
He had not, given that the entire date, all seventeen agonizing minutes, had been devoted to Bailey’s Dream Wedding.
“I totally want to have twins,” Bailey said, her eyes widening. Connor sensed he’d just risen even higher on her Husband Material scale. “Girls. Identical. Wouldn’t that be so perfect?” Maybe she had a collage for that, too. Bailey’s Dream Identical Girl Twins.
“Connor wants many children. At least four,” Colleen said.
“You do, son?” Pete asked.
“Those words have never come out of my mouth,” he said.
“Okay, his eye is twitching. Come on, guys, have a seat,” Colleen said, ushering the other O’Rourkes away. Dad and Gail coming in to eat was new. Just last year, they never darkened the doorway. Those were the days, he thought wistfully.
“Want to see my dream centerpieces?” Bailey asked. “Orchids. I adore orchids!”
Connor’s left eye was indeed twitching. Maybe he needed a vacation. Far, far away. He’d meet some cute little Tahitian woman who didn’t speak English, bang out a few kids, maybe stay there.
Just then, the town siren went off, and thank you, baby Jesus, it gave Connor the excuse he’d been dying for. “Gotta go. Volunteer firefighter,” he was pretty sure he said, bolting for the door into the sunshine like a racehorse at the bell.
Technically, he was on the volunteer fire department, though his work kept him from going on too many calls. He didn’t have his pager tonight, though, and had no clue where the call was.
“Connor, want a ride?” asked Ned Vanderbeek.
“That’d be great,” Connor said. “Where’s the call?”
“Rushing Creek. Patient combative with staff.”
“Hopefully not your great-grandparents,” Connor said, getting into Ned’s sweet new truck.
“Nah, they’re generally only combative with each other,” Ned said cheerfully, flicking on the blue flashing light.
Connor knew Ned was living with Jessica and Davey. He knew Ned was involved with Levi Cooper’s little sister—everyone knew that except Levi. Connor knew Ned had gotten himself into a hole financially and was trying to dig out, and he knew that Jessica almost never said no to the chance to earn a little more money.
It didn’t stop him from being irritatingly jealous. Ned got to see her every day. Here Connor was on a date with a woman who’d been planning her wedding since she was, according to her, a newborn, and Ned got to see Jessica in her pajamas. Maybe even in a towel.
“So was that your girlfriend?” Ned asked.
“Shut up.”
Ned laughed. “Oh, you poor slob.”
“Don’t make me sic Levi on you, son.”
The laughter stopped abruptly. “Sorry, dude.”
They pulled up in front of Rushing Creek Retirement Home, the first vehicle on the scene. The truth was, Connor would rather be chasing down combative seniors than back on that date.
Nothing thrilled the residents more than a visit from Manningsport’s first responders, so there was a crowd waiting.
“Oh, Ned’s here! That’s my great-grandson. Isn’t he handsome! Hello, Neddy-Bear!” called Mrs. Holland. “And hello, Connor dear!”
“Hi, Goggy! What have you done this time?” Ned asked as they headed for the front door.
“Oh, it’s not me, honey! It’s Arlene Piller. She’s naked and on the run. And armed.”
“Armed?”
“With a cane.”
The facility was set up on different floors and wings, depending on the level of care required. The Hollands were in the residential unit, which was basically a posh apartment complex. It went from there to people recovering from surgery, people with chronic medical conditions, a hospice unit, and the highest level of care, the dementia unit.
A grumpy staffer stood in the hall, holding an ice pack against his face. “She’s in the conservatory. And she’s stronger than she looks. Swinging like Derek Jeter. She hit three of us.”
“What’s her medical condition?” Connor asked.
“Well, she’s older than the puppy God got as a child, and she weighs about ninety pounds, but she’s like a ninja with that cane. Dementia.”
“Fun,” Ned said. “Okay, we got this, right, Connor?”
“Hey, guys.”
It was Jess.
“Got your lasso ready?” Ned asked. “She’s already taken out three orderlies.”
There was a crash from the conservatory, a great glass-domed structure. The smell of soil and humidity was rich in the air. A tiled walk led through the enormous room; it was one of the bigger selling points of Rushing Creek, and Connor could see why. Orchids—Bailey’s favorite!—roses, even lilac trees were in bloom. There were orange and lemon trees, and Connor caught the scent of basil, chives and coriander. Good. Fresh herbs improved virtually every dish. Maybe he should teach a cooking class for seniors here.
“It’s awfully quiet,” Ned said. “Hold me, Jess, I’m scared.”
“Be professional,” Connor muttered. “Mrs. Piller?” he called. “It’s Connor O’Rourke. I’m an EMT with the fire department. You doing okay?”
“Bite me!” came a creaky voice.
“What a sweet little old lady,” Ned said.
“Con, you have such a way with the elderly,” Jessica added.
“You’re both so helpful,” Connor muttered. “Mrs. Piller, you need to come back to your room, okay?”
“No! Not okay! Take a bite of this, mister!” With that, she shook her withered shanks from behind a potted palm.
“Oh, my Jesus. I’m too young for this,” Ned said. “I’ll get backup. Where’s Levi, anyway?”
Actually, the rest of the emergency services department was standing in the conservatory entrance, shooting the shit and laughing, from the look of it. Levi, Emmaline, Gerard, Bryce Campbell, a few others Connor couldn’t see. “Hey, Connor,” Emmaline called. “You were first on the scene. You’ve got this, buddy.”