“No, I’m sure Karen will be here soon. Is Maria here?”


“Yeah, she got here about a half hour ago. I’ll let her know you’re awake.” Ronnie stood up and shut the computer off. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”


“No, really, I’m all set. You have a good day at work. Do you think Tommy will be there?”


“I doubt it. He said something last night about not being in the office today.” A flash of anger over last night’s events clouded her features. “He’d better not show up either.” She reached over and gave Tabitha a quick pet. “My office number is two on the speed dial if you want to give me a call.”


“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you or anything.” Rose silently wished Ronnie would give her a hug goodbye but could not bring herself to ask for one.


“If you feel like calling, you just do it. Don’t worry about bothering me because you won’t.” She hesitated for a moment. “It’s kinda nice to hear a friendly voice in the middle of the day.”


“Okay then. I’ll call you later.” She set the glass down and looked at her friend. “Ronnie?”


“Mmm?”


“Thank you for running out this morning. I really appreciate it.”


Ronnie smiled. “You’re welcome.” She reached out and gave Rose’s hand a squeeze. “Now I really do have to get to work. Call me later, okay?”


“Okay.”



* * *

It was late afternoon when the door to Ronnie’s office opened and Susan entered, carrying a manila folder. “I was right,” the redhead said triumphantly as she tossed the folder onto the desk.


“You were right about what?” Ronnie asked disinterestedly, not bothering to turn away from her computer.


“Your guest.” She picked up the folder and opened it, reviewing the information she had acquired. “Rose Grayson graduated from Albany High School. There is no record of her ever having attending college anywhere or owning a credit card. She doesn’t even have a driver’s license.”


Ronnie stood up quickly, sending her chair rolling back as she grabbed the folder out of Susan’s hands. “You investigated her?”


“I had to,” the younger sister protested. “You obviously believe everything she says.”


“And what does it matter to you?”


“Ronnie, she obviously has nothing and saw a good meal ticket.”


“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She slammed the folder down on her desk. “Rose is not using me.”


“No? Do you know where she was employed before you gave her a job?”


“Money Slasher, I know. She was a cashier there.”


“A part time cashier,” Susan corrected, “making minimum wage. From what I can tell, before that she bussed tables at a diner.”


“What is your point?”


“My point is why are you doing this? Why are you letting some poor white trash live off of you?”


“Don’t…you…EVER call her that again!” Ronnie roared. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, and as far as ‘white trash’ goes, have you taken a good look at Tommy lately?”


“You’re trying to change the subject.”


“Am I? You’re judging her because she doesn’t have the money you and I do. How fair is that?” She walked over to the window and looked out at the dreary gray sky. “Did you take the time to talk to her? To find out what kind of a person she is? No. Not everyone who doesn’t have money is scum and not everyone who is rich is a good person.”


“I’m not saying that.”


“You’re not? You find out she wasn’t born to privilege and right away you assume she’s a gold digger.”


“Then what is she, Ronnie? Help me understand because right now I don’t,” Susan challenged.

“Try looking at it from the family’s point of view. A woman we’ve never heard of suddenly moves into your home, complete with a cat and obvious medical problems and you expect us to just sit back and not be concerned?”


“Yes, I do. It’s my life, Susan. Who stays in my home is my concern, not yours. I didn’t run an investigation on Jack when you announced you were going to marry him.”


“Are you planning on marrying her?”


“You still won’t accept that she is just a friend, will you?” She crossed the room and flopped down on the black leather couch. “Why does it bother you so much?”


“I just don’t want to see you hurt…again.”


“This is not like Christine, I told you that before.”


“You may not think so, but from what I see…”


“Then you had better look again. Rose doesn’t want anything from me. She’s just a friend. Stop trying to make this into something more than it is.” She kicked her shoes off and tucked her feet up under her legs. “You don’t know her, Susan. You don’t know what she’s like. Last night her bottle of Percocet was stolen. I offered to go get more but she didn’t want me to. Does that sound like someone who is only interested in my money? She hasn’t once asked me to buy her a damn thing. Everything I do, I do because I want to, not because she asks me to.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t understand, forget it.”


“Look. You’re an adult. You have to make your own decisions. I ran every check I could on her today. All the info is in that file. Do with it what you want.” Susan headed for the door. “Ronnie, don’t forget dinner tomorrow at Mother’s.”


“Oh, I’m looking forward to it,” she said sarcastically. “Did you fax her a copy of your precious report? Or did you just take an ad out in the Times Useless?”


“That wasn’t necessary, Ronnie. I’m just looking out for you.”


“Last time I looked, I was taking care of myself just fine. I don’t recall asking you to baby-sit me.”


“Fine. Do what you want, you will anyway.” Susan left, not bothering to close the door. Laura, who had been listening to the raised voices, discreetly closed it and returned to her desk, knowing the intercom would buzz in a few seconds.


“Laura, hold my calls.” A second later, line two lit up and the young administrative assistant would have bet her entire paycheck that she knew who her boss was calling.


“Cartwright Residence,” Maria answered.


“Hi Maria, may I speak with Rose please?” Ronnie was still sitting on her couch in the office, the block multi-line phone sitting on the floor next to her. It was at times like this she appreciated the extra length in the gray phone cord, even if it did get tangled up in her feet under the desk from time to time.


“Hello?”


“Hi there.” At the sound of Rose’s voice, Ronnie smiled, the stress of her conversation with Susan melting away. “How was Judge Judy today?”


“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the cases she had.”


“Tell me about them,” she urged, settling back into a comfortable position. Ronnie could not explain it but the sound of Rose’s voice had a soothing effect on her and, at the moment, she needed that comfort.



* * *

A few days later, Rose was at the hospital to get her stitches removed and to have new X-rays taken of her legs. Ronnie sat in the waiting area, reading six-month old magazines to pass the time.


“Almost finished,” Doctor Barnes said, removing the last of the stitches on Rose’s cheek. She stepped back and threw her latex gloves in the red waste receptacle. “Looks good. I don’t think you’ll have a scar. Remember to keep it out of the sun until it’s fully healed. Not that that is a problem this time of year.” She made a notation on Rose’s chart. “You’re recovering splendidly. At the rate you’re going, I see no reason why you won’t be on crutches by late Spring.”


“Late Spring?”


“Late Spring,” the doctor repeated. “Your body suffered a severe trauma. Your ankle alone was broken in seven places. It’s going to take time to heal. Understand this, Miss Grayson, we’re talking months of therapy, not weeks.” The young woman’s heart sank at the words. She knew it would take time, just not that long. How would Ronnie react? Surely that would be too long to stay at the place she was quickly thinking of as home.


Despite Rose’s fears, Ronnie took the news well, more concerned about the progress of the recovery than the time frame. Although it caused some discomfort, the young woman insisted she could ride in the back seat of the Cherokee by sitting sideways, allowing her legs to rest on the deep gray velour. Ronnie did her best to avoid potholes, but there were still a few times when she looked into the rear view mirror and saw Rose wince as they passed over a particularly rough spot of road. “You know I could stay home tonight,” she said as they turned onto Cartwright Drive.


“No, your mother and sister are expecting you. I’ll be fine.”


“But what if you need to use the bedpan or something? What if you need a drink?” She pulled the Jeep into the driveway and turned off the ignition.


“I’ll go before you leave. If you fill that pitcher on the stand, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”



* * *

Ronnie was late arriving at her mother’s condo. She blamed it on the Friday rush hour traffic but the truth was she found it difficult to leave Rose alone. A full pitcher of water, cans of soda cooling in the ice bucket, various snacks all within easy reach of the injured woman…she left nothing to chance, even going so far as to write down her mother’s phone number just in case Rose needed anything.