The face in the mirror appeared unconvinced.
“I’m going to call her.”
An eyebrow lifted in unspoken question.
“Soon. Maybe tomorrow, when I get home from the hospital.”
The lips turned down, disapproving.
“I can’t call now. It’s Friday—she’s at work.”
The eyes aimed at the ceiling.
“Okay, I guess I could call while she’s working, since I’m technically her boss. But I still don’t know what to say. There’s no good choice. If I thank her for spending all day on Wednesday taking care of me, she’ll read more into it than she should. If I complain that she broke my trust coming up to the hospital when I specifically asked her not to, it might hurt her feelings.”
The mirror-image refused to offer any advice.
“Maybe I’ll just ignore it altogether… act like Wednesday never happened. No need to admit how sick I was. I won’t even bring it up. I’ll talk about anything… the weather, even.”
The lips curved up at the corners. Approval, at last.
“Yes! That’s it! I’ll be nice, but avoid any interaction, other than what’s absolutely necessary to carry out the fundraiser.”
He padded across the floor to sit in the chair beside his bed, snatching his phone from the table and drumming up the nerve to make the call.
He pressed send, silently praying her voicemail would answer. No such luck.
“Hello, Finn.” Her tentative tone made him feel even more guilty.
“Hi. It’s me… Finn. You know that. I just… uhm…” Very smooth. This from the guy who gives an impromptu television interview without missing a beat.
“Branson told me you’re going home tomorrow. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Thank you.” Think. Think. Say something nice.
“I… uhm…”
“Is there a reason you called?”
The wheels in his head cranked at high speed.
“Yes. I called because…” What could he say? “Because I thought you might enjoy playing the piano.”
“The Steinway? Gracious! Yes, I’d love to hear it. Do you really mean it?”
Pride swelled quickly at the joy in her voice. He leaned back and crossed his feet, as the tension ebbed from his shoulders. It was a simple thing that gave her such pleasure.
“You could go over tonight,” he said, “and play as long as you like.”
“Oh… Good idea.” Her words were stiff, all the warmth gone.
Uh-oh. She suspects you’re avoiding her.
“I thought you’d prefer to play without an audience. You’d have the place to yourself—Cole moved over to Branson’s.”
“Sure. I’ll have to check my schedule.” Her former exuberance had vanished like dust in the wind.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you want to play the Steinway?”