Brown, S ( 2004 ) White Hot by Sandra Brown

Author:Sandra Brown
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Contemporary, Crime, Romance, Family Life, General, Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 9781444732689
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2004-01-01T13:00:00+00:00

“Huff?”

“Huff?”

Eventually he realized that his name wasn’t coming to him from out of that hot evening in the summer of 1945.

He suffered the inexpressible sense of loss that he always did upon emerging from this recurring dream. He was always glad to dream it because it was like having a visit with his daddy. But it never ended happily. When he woke up, his daddy was always dead and he was left alone.

He opened his eyes. Chris and Beck were standing on either side of his hospital bed. Chris smiled. “Welcome back. You were in la-la land.”

Embarrassed by the soundness of his slumber and the sentimentality his dream always conjured, Huff sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Just catching a little catnap.”

“Catnap?” Chris said, laughing. “You were practically comatose. I didn’t think we were going to wake you up. You were talking in your sleep, too. Saying something about not getting a name right. What were you dreaming?”

“Damned if I remember,” he grumbled.

“We came to help you get ready for your trip home,” Beck said, “but obviously we’re too late to be of much use.”

He’d been up and dressed since before daylight. He’d never been one to lie about in bed, and being in the hospital hadn’t changed that habit. “I’m ready to get out of here.”

“We’re past ready to see you go.” Dr. Caroe breezed in, his lab coat snapping like a sail behind him. “The staff has had their fill of your foul disposition.”

“Then sign me out. I’m already late for work.”

“Don’t even think about it, Huff. You’re going home,” the doctor said.

“I’m needed at the foundry.”

“You need more rest before you resume normal activity.”

“Bullshit. I’ve been doing nothing but laying on my ass for two days.”

Eventually they compromised. He would go home today and rest, and if he was feeling well enough tomorrow, he could return to work for a few hours, gradually building back up to his previous schedule. This quarrel was all part of the grand charade, of course, performed for the benefit of Beck and Chris.

Caroe, the son of a bitch, was making like Al Pacino in the role of caring physician. He would give Huff the green light on returning to work when Huff gave him the greenbacks for helping him convincingly fake a heart attack.

The dismissal paperwork put a huge strain on his patience, as did having to leave the building in a wheelchair. By the time they finally got him home, he was in a high snit.

“He’s meaner than a snake,” Chris said to Selma. “Beware.”

Unmindful of the warning, she fluttered around Huff, settled him into the den with a glass of iced tea and a lap blanket, which he threw off, bellowing, “I’m not a goddamn invalid and it’s ninety fucking degrees outside! If you want to be working here tomorrow, don’t ever tuck me into this chair with a blanket!”

“I’m not deaf so you don’t have to yell. And mind your tongue, too.” With characteristic aplomb, she picked up the blanket and re-folded it.

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