“I almost forgot… Jerome’s going to be Tyrone’s best man. So you have to be my maid of honor.”
“I can’t process this right now.” A throb started at the base of her neck and extended to her forehead. “We can talk about it later. I’ll call you this weekend.”
“Are you coming for Christina’s quinceañera on Saturday?”
“I wish I could,” she answered truthfully, knowing her cousin’s fifteenth birthday celebration was a big deal. “I’m too busy with work right now, but I mailed my present two weeks ago.”
Carmen launched into a lengthy description of the party preparations as Laurie stared out the window at the gathering storm clouds.
Stephanie’s incoming phone call saved her from her mother’s endless chatter.
“Mom, I’ve got to go. Boss is calling me. Talk to you later.” She connected with Stephanie. “Hey, Boss.”
“You don’t work for me anymore.” Stephanie chuckled. “You sound distraught. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Kind of. Got some bad news from my mom.”
“Are she and Tyrone getting married?”
“Yep.” She popped the p. “Just like I predicted. But that’s not all. She wants me to be her maid of honor. And guess who’s going to be the best man… Jerome.”
“Your half-brother? That might be kind of fun, right? You told me you guys got along really well in college.”
“True. He’s nothing like our father. He complained all the time that he couldn’t tell people I was his sister.”
“He seemed super nice that time I met him.”
“I’d love to see him again. We still keep in touch, but I left out all the big stuff about my life. He doesn’t know where I am or that I changed my name or anything like that.
“I’m glad he’ll be there. Shows a lot of guts, don’t you think? His mother can’t be very excited about this wedding, even though she’s the one who left your father.”
“It could be a good thing to see Jerome again, except for one tiny little detail… the media coverage.”
“Good gracious, I forgot he’s in the NFL now! The sports reporters will be all over this.” Stephanie sounded more panicky than Laurie. “If you’re in that wedding, your cover is blown for sure. You could’ve changed your last name to Frankenstein, and they’d still figure out who you are.”
“What am I going to do?”
A knock sounded, and Branson leaned in the doorway. “Hey, Laurie. Got a minute?”
“I’m on the phone with your wife. Do you have a message for her?”
“Not one you could repeat out loud,” said Bran, with a broad grin, coming closer.
“Tell him I’ll be waiting for him at home in my special outfit.” Steph’s voice carried through the air, and Bran laughed.
“Too much information, guys.” Laurie complained. “Virginal ears, remember?”
“Bye, girl. Talk to you later.” Stephanie was giggling as she disconnected the call.
“Glad you stopped by. I hope you’re here to make some follow-up phone calls for me. I’m trying to confirm the final arrangements with each donor who’s giving us a physical item for auction.” Laurie blinked her bloodshot eyes and yawned—three nights in a row with hardly any sleep, plus a pounding headache. She hoped she could make it to the end of the day.
“Afraid I don’t have time to help today. But I do have good news.” His grin was so wide she could see every tooth. “Jarrett isn’t going to have chemo.”
“None at all?”
“That’s right.” Branson moved unerringly to the chair in front of her desk and sat down. As always, she was amazed he could remember the furniture placement so well. He released a long breath like he’d been holding it for a year. “It turns out he only had one area of recurrent cancer in his lung, and they think they got it
all. The doctors say there’s no real benefit to chemotherapy in this case. Jarrett’s ecstatic. He told me the chemo they use for osteosarcoma is really nasty stuff, and he was dreading it.”