Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Yet, something about Ben’s body language was troubling, and Lilah’s alarm escalated when, after a curt greeting, he listened to whatever Lucille was telling him and paled dramatically.
His eyes flew to Lilah’s and his throat bobbed as he swallowed before barking, “When?”
More silence while he listened, and his eyes closed for a moment. Lilah’s heart lodged in her throat and her breathing came in short, harsh pants as she watched her husband reel from whatever he was being told. Ben fought hard to keep his expression under control, but she could tell he was shaken and Lilah’s imagination shot into overdrive. Had Gramps fallen? Been in an accident? Was it his heart? As far as Lilah knew, Gramps was in excellent health, but anything could happen at his age.
“Yes, thank you,” Ben said, his voice shaking. “We’ll be ready. Right. Of course. Tell him…” His eyes found hers again. “Tell him we love him and we’ll be home soon.”
Lilah was already packing up her camera, and summoning Ryan over.
“We’ll have to cancel dessert, I’m afraid,” she whispered when the waiter came over.
“Is everything alright?” the young man asked, and Lilah’s eyes flew to Ben’s face. He’d lowered the phone, but now appeared to be texting someone.
“I-I’m not sure. Ben?” The last emerged on a panicked whisper and he lifted his distracted gaze to her.
“Wha—?” She watched him become aware of his surroundings again and he blinked slowly, before seeming to shake himself. “Uh… yeah, we won’t be taking dessert. Bill the room as usual.”
“Of course, sir,” Ryan murmured, and tactfully retreated.
Ben nodded, and went back to his text, while Lilah watched him, feeling helpless, confused and not at all sure what to do next.
“It’s Gramps, isn’t it? What’s wrong with him? I knew something was wrong when he didn’t answer my texts and phone calls, it’s not like him. Was it an accident? Did he fall? He’s been so unsteady on his feet lately.”
Ben set aside the phone and reached across the table to grab her agitatedly moving hands in his. His grip was strong and reassuring.
“We’ll discuss it in the privacy of our room.”
“Tell me now, Ben. How bad is it?”
His grip tightened to the point of pain but she barely felt it, keeping her eyes glued on his.
“It’s bad, Lilah. Cyrus has collapsed. He’s been admitted to the ICU. Lucille has arranged for the jet to pick us up first thing in the morning.”
“Oh, my God, oh, my God, Ben.” Her voice was a harsh whisper and her vision blurred as tears welled up.
“Come on, let’s get back to the villa. I’ll try reach his doctor and attempt to get more clarity on the matter, okay?”
She nodded and got up quickly. Ben held onto one of her hands and swooped up her camera bag with his free hand to sling it over his broad shoulder.
When they got back to the villa, they both—as if by unspoken agreement—swung into immediate action. Lilah to her suitcase to get everything packed and an outfit ready for the morning, and Ben back on his phone, trying to reach Gramps’s doctor.
If the amount of muttered cursing coming from him was any indication, he wasn’t having much luck with that.
After she finished packing, she sat down on the bed and watched Ben anxiously as he paced the floor while sending texts, scanning his phone, calling his market analysts, and members of the executive board. Lilah didn’t care about any of that. She knew he was trying to do damage control, but her only concern was for her grandfather.
She grabbed her own phone and scrolled until she reached Gretchen’s number. Gretchen was their live-in housekeeper. The sixty-five-year-old woman had been working for the family for close to forty years.
She chose FaceTime. People had the condescending propensity to try and downplay upsetting news from her, probably fearing that it would trigger an asthma attack. But she needed honesty right now. She didn’t want to be pandered to or cushioned from potentially bad news.
Gretchen replied on the second ring. The tall, austere, woman with the steel gray hair, looked haggard and that told Lilah more than words ever could.
“How bad is it, Gretchen?” she asked without preamble, and the older woman—who usually handled everything with enviable calm—seemed to crumble right in front of her. Gretchen’s shoulders hunched, and her eyes welled.
“It’s not good, liebchen.” Her German accent was even thicker than usual. “I found him in his office this afternoon. Not responsive. He was barely breathing. He did not regain consciousness when the paramedics worked on him. They tell me nothing, because I am not family. What is family? I ask you? I work for this man for forty years. I live in his house, I know his favorite food, the underwear he likes to wear. I know him better than I know my own family. But they tell me nothing.”