Becky snorted. “Never met him, since I’m not sure which loser fathered him.” Then she sneered. “And don’t you dare judge me. I was young and dumb and I know it.”
Sahara denied any judgment with a shake of her head. “You said he got nothing from his father, so I assumed—”
Lifting her chin, Becky stated, “You said it yourself, he looks like me.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Though he probably wishes he didn’t.”
“He has to be pleased with his looks. After all, he’s gorgeous.”
“The smug bastard knows it.”
Sahara stiffened, and now her smile felt sharp. “Bastard is such an old-fashioned insult for a child who had no choice in the decisions his mother made.”
“Don’t you—”
“And smug? Please. Brand is generous, obviously.” She gestured around the apartment. “And also kind.” She looked pointedly at Becky. “In fact, I’d call him damn near perfect.”
“You want to marry him, don’t you? You’re after his money!”
Sahara laughed. When Becky’s face turned red, she laughed even more, but managed to say around her amusement, “Better! At least now you have some color in your cheeks.”
“Shut up!”
Unperturbed, she said, “You know what, Becky? You’re a pretty woman. Even looking wretched from your illness, I can see it.”
She sank into the bedding, the sheet to her chin. “I can’t help looking wretched, as you put it. I almost died.”
“Yes, there is that.” Sahara studied her. “Would you like me to arrange for a personal stylist to visit you here? Someone to do your hair, your nails, maybe give you a pedi and a facial? Wouldn’t that be lovely? Of course it would. Every woman likes to look her best, and nothing improves a woman’s outlook like being pampered. After all you’ve been through, it would be refreshing, right?”
Becky eyed her, wanting to complain, but also interested. “I can’t afford anything like that and Brand would never—”
“It will be my treat.” She beamed, waiting for a response.
Suspicion narrowed Becky’s eyes. “Why would you do that for me?”
Choosing honesty, Sahara said, “You’re miserable, and that makes it more difficult on Brand.” She shrugged. “It’s as simple as that.”
“So you do want to marry him.”
Leaning forward, touching Becky’s arm, Sahara said, “If you tried for a year, you’d never be able to understand me or my motives, so please don’t tax yourself.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“I’d rather not.” She stood, looking around the space again. “This would be so much nicer without the hospital bed in here. I mean...it’s a hospital bed. That’s enough to depress the hardiest spirit.” Becky was not hardy. Indulgent, yes. Filled with self-pity, definitely.
“I’m sick,” Becky growled.
“Yes, I know.” Sahara surveyed the room, mentally taking measurements. It was a small space, made smaller by the bed. “Perhaps a soft padded love seat and a pretty lounge chair in a fresh, feminine pattern. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Yes,” Becky admitted, unsure where Sahara was going with the conversation, and afraid of giving up another freebie. “But this is what Brand gave me.”
Brand had given her an expensive hospital bed? So remarkable. “You asked for it, I presume?”
“Because I’m sick,” Becky reiterated again.
“Yes, I know,” Sahara said for what felt like the tenth time, “but you can surely walk from the sofa to the bedroom, right?”
More confusion clouded Becky’s face. “Why bother to get out of the bed when I don’t feel like doing anything?”
“Nothing at all? That’s too bad. I thought to offer a shopping trip also, perhaps to get some clothes that better fit you until you regain the weight you’ve lost. But if you can’t even get from this room to that one—”
“You would take me shopping?”
“Yes.” Pleased that Becky had taken the bait, she continued. “I noticed some nice trendy places local to here. We could find you some flattering yet comfortable outfits for when you go out to the patio. Perhaps some long flowing skirts and soft sweaters.” She looked out the sliding doors and saw a man by the pond playing with a dog. “The neighbors would be so shocked with your new appearance...especially any men.”
Becky sat up in the bed, her thin shoulders a little straighter. Trying to be shrewd, but without adequate ability, she said, “It would maybe help me to make the effort if I had something fun like that to do.”
“Then I’ll endeavor to create some fun.”
Becky looked like a child, hopeful yet wary. “What will Brand say about—”
“Brand doesn’t tell me what to do.” Well, maybe he did...when she wasn’t at work, although he hadn’t really pushed that agreement yet. She shrugged. “If you’re concerned, don’t tell him.”
“Hair and makeup he might miss. Even some different clothes. But he’ll notice if I have new furniture.”
“Eventually.” She grinned. “But by then, you’ll already have it, won’t you?”
Still skeptical, Becky said, “Okay. Not that I really think you’ll do it. But I’ll play along.”
“Excellent.” Sahara pulled a pen and two business cards from her purse. She slid one under the notepad on Becky’s side table. “That’s in case you need to contact me.” Then she asked, “What’s your number?” After she’d written it on the back of the card, she returned it to her purse. “I’ll be in touch shortly.”
They finished in the nick of time, because Brand returned, arms loaded with the specific items Becky had demanded, and more.
He put everything away, telling Becky where to find it, then went one further by asking her if she needed anything before he left.
“You’re going already? You just got here.”
“I’ll try to come again soon,” he said, without any enthusiasm.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she whined.
Sahara’s brows went up. Not once had Becky whined while Brand was gone. “It’s my fault,” she offered. “I’m out of time for the day.”
Becky flashed her a frown.
“I enjoyed our visit while Brand shopped for you. Are you sure there isn’t anything we can get you before we go? Maybe you’d like to sit in the recliner outside? It’s still sunny.”
“It’s getting too cold.”
“Nonsense. I’ll tuck a blanket around your legs.” Not giving Becky much of a chance to argue, Sahara stripped away the bedclothes and helped her to her feet. Near her ear, she said, “You need to start getting your strength back.”
Becky groused and grumbled until Sahara had her settled in the lounge chair on the patio, slippers on her feet, a quilt tucked around her. She even got Becky a sweet tea over ice, and a few magazines to look at, then put her phone beside her.
“Now, just relax and enjoy the air and think about getting better so you can have some fun.”
Brand had stood back, arms crossed and expression enigmatic, until Sahara mentioned fun.
“Rehab comes before fun, and Becky, I expect you to start doing what the physical therapist tells you.”
Sahara patted his arm. “She and I have already discussed it and she’s going to cooperate to the best of her ability. Isn’t that right, Becky?”
Refusing to look at either of them, her face set in mulish lines, Becky nodded.
Brand softened, saying, “I’ll try to check up on you next week.”
“Why not Saturday?”
“Sahara has a dinner party.”
“So a party comes before—”
Interrupting, Sahara said with heavy innuendo, “Just think how surprised he’ll be with your progress, Becky.”
Hinting that she’d have the makeover by then did the trick. “Yes, he will be.” Becky picked up a magazine and thumbed through it. “So what about Sunday?”
“We’re helping friends build a gazebo.”
Because she hadn’t known that, Sahara said, “We are?”
“Maxi wants one by the pond and I told Leese we’d join them. All the guys will be there.”
Warm pleasure spread through her, making her smile extra bright. “I’d love to.”
Brand tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “You know anything about building gazebos?”
She lifted her chin. “I’m intelligent enough to learn.”
He grinned. “I have no doubt.”
With a sound of annoyance, Becky said, “So I won’t see you this weekend. Fine. Have fun doing other stuff. Whatever.”