Eye of the Storm (Hudson 3)

"Tell him how sorry you are," she instructed.

"What does he know about Brady's visiting me?"

"Megan didn't tell him much. I had to fill in the details," she said, closing her eyes as if it had given her great pain.

"What details?" I asked, my heart pounding. What did she tell him about me and about what had happened?

"The difficult situation you were in, of course," she said. And not because of any fault of your own," she added, her eyes shifting toward the ceiling. I knew it was a gesture meant to point up to my mother's room and point the finger of accusation at her.

"Grant kept Brody in the dark. too." I snapped at Aunt Victoria.

"Not because he wanted to. Believe me," she said. "The poor man, the poor, poor man."

She stopped at the office doorway and practically turned me into the room. Grant was out of view, surrounded by his associates and friends. Some of them turned to look our way and then they parted and I saw Grant seated on a nailhead red leather sofa, a drink in his hand, his tie undone, his hair disheveled. He fixed his eyes on me, but didn't show any emotion or interest.

"Rain would like to express her deep sympathy to you, Grant," Victoria said approaching with me.

His eyebrows lifted and he studied my face, looking for proof of my sincerity.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said. "I'm sorry that I didn't get to know Brody better."

He nodded. his eyes softening and then he closed them and leaned back.

"Do you need anything. Grant?" Aunt Victoria asked him.

He just shook his head.

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She and I turned and left the room. On the way out she muttered, "he doesn't need anything except for a wife who can stand by him when he needs her the most."

I couldn't leave without seeing my mother, regardless of what Aunt Victoria told me about her being completely under sedation. I told Victoria.

"She won't even know you're there," she said. "Why waste your time?"

"It's far from a waste of time," I spit back at her and headed for the stairway. Aunt Victoria watched me a moment and then turned to go back to her selfappointed duties as surrogate wife.

I didn't know where to go upstairs, but I didn't have, to because my mother's nurse was just coming out of the bedroom. She paused to greet me.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"I'd like to see Mrs. Randolph," I said.

"She's not seeing anyone just yet," she told me. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you understand." She gave me a plastic smile.

I flashed her a similar smile, turned and pretended to follow her down the stairs. When she walked into the living room. I stopped and went back up. I slowly opened my mother's bedroom door and peered in.

It was a very large bedroom with a sitting area that had a small sofa and reclining chair facing a television set. The large windows had light blue velvet drapes and gauzelike white curtains. The floor was covered in a butter-soft, thick dark blue carpet.

At first I didn't even see my mother. Her bed was custom made and larger than the ordinary kingsize bed. It had tall, round posts, a footboard with an embossed rose and a headboard with two more roses crossing each other to symbolize lovers. Almost lost in the oversized pillows was my mother, her dark hair loose around her milky white face. The comforter was up to her chin. Her head was turned slightly away from me.

I closed the door softly behind me and walked to her. Her eyes were wide open, but even so she still looked like she was asleep.

"Mother," I said softly. "Mother."

She slowly turned to me and just stared with that blank look in her eyes.

"I want you to understand how I am really very sorry and sad about Brody."