Riches & Rags: Things are seldom as they seem. by Camille Nagasaki

Author:Camille Nagasaki [Nagasaki, Camille]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CAMELOT BOOKS
Published: 2016-10-10T04:00:00+00:00

“Well, Lane. What do you think of your first homemade gourmet meal?” Liam asks with a lopsided grin, his light Irish accent coloring his words in a melodic way.

I grin back and stare down at the gorgeous meal in disbelief. I made this! Well, with Liam’s help. The steam rises with from the dish, and the smell is glorious. Wow! The halibut is cooked to perfection and is presented with slices of fennel bulb and drizzled in the butter sauce. The rice with the cilantro that we added last minute smells heavenly. And the baked and broiled zucchini has a perfectly browned, Parmesan crust. I grab a couple of sprigs of fresh Italian parsley and sprinkle it on the plate to complete the presentation.

“Is the chicken done?” Margo asks, peering over the counter.

“How do you feel about fish, love?” I hear Liam ask, as I carry the plate to the attic door.

“Yuck!” Margo shrieks.

Liam chuckles. “In that case, the chicken is done. Here, I’ll serve you right now.”

I carry the plate down the two flights of stairs, smiling in anticipation of George’s reaction. He’s going to be so thrilled. It actually feels kind of good to know George will be eating a real meal for once.

“George?” I call out when I reach the foyer landing. I pause momentarily at the foreign sound coming from the living room, but realize it’s just that wretched cat. “George? Come on, this is the dinner of your dreams.” His hearing must really be going! I swing the living room door open with one hand and halt mid step.

Oh!

My God.

The plate crashes to the floor as I fling myself at his side.

“George!” I cry, dropping to my knees. The cat stares at me with wide eyes and continues to assault my ears with its wails. “LIAM!” I scream.

George is barely conscious, his skin is clammy and sickly gray. I put my hand on his damp neck and can feel a very slow, very weak pulse. Relieved, I hold his cold hand in mine while I smooth back his hair, trying to keep him calm. His blank eyes are unfocused and lost. I hear Liam’s footsteps racing down the stairs.

He bursts into the room with Rory in his arms. “What’s going— Oh nooooo!” He sets Rory down and crouches by George’s side. “George, can you hear me?” he says, his voice loud and panicked. George doesn’t answer. Liam gives me a brief, pained glance and scrambles to his feet. “I’m calling 9-1-1,” he calls over his shoulder, as he sprints in the direction of the kitchen.

“George, help is coming,” I say, my voice barely audible. “Hang in there, George.” I stroke his hand in mine, and a tear streams down my face, landing on his. I wipe it with a shaky hand.

Margo’s just come up behind me. Her concerned face crumples into tears when she sees George in a heap on the floor. “Oh, no! Mommy.” She comes and sits vigil beside him, crying softly while watching him through her long, wet lashes.

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