His grandfather sat in a chair by the bed, staring at the television set. There was a basketball game on, but whether he was actually watching it was debatable. Dressed in casual clothes, Ned looked normal, as if nothing was wrong with him. He'd always been a big man, taller than Riley's own six feet by another two inches. But his girth had diminished in the past few years, and now he was dangerously thin, Riley thought. Not like the man who used to chow down three hamburgers or a twenty-ounce steak at one sitting.
In fact, the man in the chair was nothing like the man who had taken him to task, made him clean up his act. His grandfather had once dragged him out of a pool hall where he'd gone to hustle money when he was fifteen. That Ned had been larger than life, an Irishman who talked loudly, gestured with every word, and knew how to tell great stories. Where had that man gone?
His body was still there, debilitated by various illnesses that came with old age, but still relatively stable. It was his mind that was off balance.
Maybe Riley would get lucky. There were times when his grandfather was coherent, when he remembered somebody or something. This could be one of those times. Damn, he was starting to sound like an optimist, a role better left to his grandmother or to Paige.
Ned's head turned as Riley entered the room, a good sign that he was alert.
"Hello, Grandpa." Riley deliberately used the title to help his grandfather remember.
"Who are you?" Ned asked, a somewhat belligerent note in his voice.
"I'm Riley, your grandson."
Ned narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You're that guy who owes me twenty bucks. Did you come to pay up, or do you have another sob story?"
"I've come to pay up." Riley took his wallet out, removed a twenty-dollar bill, and handed it to Ned.
"What's this for?" Ned asked, already confused.
Riley shook his head and took the bill back. "You okay? You got everything you need?"
"I'm cold. It's damn cold in here. Can't get no heat. They don't turn it on for me. They're cheap."
"How about a blanket?" Riley took a blanket off the edge of the bed and put it over his grandfather's legs. "I remember when you tucked me in that first night I came back to your house. You made sure the covers were real tight."
His grandfather looked at him with bemusement, his dark eyes suddenly clearing as if a cloud had passed. "Riley?"
"It's me." He squatted down next to the chair. "How's your grandmother? I haven't seen her in a long time. Is she still mad at me?"
"She's not mad at you. How could she be? You always make her laugh."
Ned grinned at that. "She was the prettiest thing I ever did see. I remember when I met her the first tune at a dance at the YMCA. She had beautiful legs. I loved those legs."
"Do you remember Wallace Hathaway?" Riley asked, knowing he had to take the shot while he had an opening.
"Is that you, Wally?" Ned's eyes changed once again as he tilted his head and studied Riley's face. "You hate when I call you Wally, don't you? Well, I don't care. I saved your sorry butt more than once, and what did you do? You turned on me, that's what you did."
"I didn't mean to," Riley said, trying to keep the conversation going.
"It wasn't right what you did, Wally. I thought we were brothers."
"I'm sorry about what happened."
"That was a hell of a crash. I can still hear the engines screaming as we went down, the treetops splitting off as we hit 'em. Hell of a ride. We were lucky he found us."
Was he still talking about Wallace Hathaway? Riley couldn't make sense of the rambling sentences.
"Do you remember working at Hathaway's store as a security guard?"
"Damn fire ruined everything. Nan doesn't know. Can't tell her. Want to tell her but can't tell her. She'd get mad." Ned grabbed Riley's sleeve. "You don't tell her, Wally."
"I won't," Riley promised as his grandfather grew more and more agitated.
"Where's Betty?"
"Betty? I don't know a Betty."
"Who are you?" Ned asked, lost again. His gaze drifted back to the television set, and he lapsed into silence.
Riley stared at him for a long moment, feeling incredibly depressed by the sight of his grandfather, once so vital, so strong, so important to him, fading away, adrift in a mind that raced from one subject to the next. At least his grandfather didn't know that he didn't know. That was a cold comfort, but it was all Riley had to hang on to..
"Riley? I didn't know you were coming here." Nan entered the room with a vase of fresh flowers in her hands. "You should have told me. We could have driven over together."
"I didn't know until this morning."
She leaned over and kissed Ned on the cheek. "Hi, honey. I love you."
Ned pulled away from her, his gaze focused on the television. Riley saw the hurt in her eyes and wished he could take the pain away. "He asked about you. Talked about your beautiful legs."
"He did? Really?"
"Yes. He was sort of clear for a couple of minutes."
"Did you come here to ask him about the hang-up calls, about whether he was trying to call the house?" Nan asked.
"I didn't get a chance. I think the hang-up calls were someone casing the house, to see if you were home or not. The next thing we need to do is get you an unlisted number."
"If you do that, I'll start to feel invisible. It's bad enough getting old. I don't want to disappear, too."
"That could never happen."
"Did your grandpa say anything else?" Nan asked.
"I asked him about Wallace Hathaway, Paige's grandfather. When I was going through your photos, I saw a picture of Grandpa in a security uniform posing in front of Hathaway's store with Wallace Hathaway."
"I don't remember a picture like that. But I hardly ever look at those old photos."
"Grandpa must have worked at the store."
"Well, yes, he did, when we were first married. Didn't I tell you that?"
"No, you didn't."
"It was a long time ago. And he worked at so many stores in those early days; I could hardly keep track. I was too busy having a baby and making a home."
"Did you ever meet Wallace Hathaway?"
"Good heavens, no. I would have remembered that, Riley. He's quite famous in San Francisco. But your grandfather was a security guard. He didn't spend time with the Hathaways."
"Grandpa mentioned someone named Wally. Did you ever hear him talk about a Wally?"
She pondered that. "I know your grandfather flew with someone named Wally in the war. I don't think it was Wallace Hathaway, though. He talked about Wally like he was a friend. If Wallace Hathaway was Wally, I think he would have mentioned that to me at some point."
"You're right. Wally is probably somebody completely different. I doubt a Hathaway would ever let himself be called Wally."
She smiled. "How was your evening with Paige'?"
"Too short."
"I'm sorry I interrupted."
"It was probably for the best." He glanced over at his grandfather, whose eyes had drifted shut. "Looks like he's going to sleep for a while."
She nodded. "I'll just leave the flowers and hope they cheer him up."
"I'll walk you to your car."
"Good-bye, Ned," she said quietly and kissed him on the cheek once again.
Riley drew in a sharp breath of air, feeling as if he'd been punched in the stomach. The look in her eyes when she gazed at her husband just about undid him. The only real love he'd ever seen in his life had been between these two people. Even now, it was still there, at least on his grandmother's part.
"He squeezed my hand," she said, her eyes bright, drawing Riley's gaze down to their hands clasped together. "I think he knows it's me."
"I'm sure he does."
"I feel better. I can go now." She squeezed Ned's hand again. "I'll be back soon."
Riley was glad she didn't say anything as they left the room. He didn't know why he felt so choked up. He'd come here before. He'd seen how bad it was. He knew it wasn't going to get better. So why was it still getting to him?
Paige, he thought with annoyance. It was her fault. He'd been living a nice emotion-free existence up until a few days ago. She'd knocked down some of his walls, and he needed to get them back up fast. He didn't want to feel like this, like there was a pain in his heart. He didn't even want to admit he had a heart or that it could break again.
"I'm going back to clean the house," Nan said when they reached her car, parked just a few spots down from his own. "You made a good start on putting things right. I can finish the rest."
"I'll come stay with you tonight."
"No. I'm a big girl, and I have my watchdogs out in front. In fact, I told Bud he could stay on my sofa tonight instead of the car. He'll be more comfortable there, and I'll have someone right in the house."
"Someone who is seventy-four years old. I'm not sure what good he'll do inside. At least out front, he can call 911 if he sees anything."
"I trust Bud. And I'll put on the alarm so you don't have to worry. I'm sure you have better things to do than babysit your grandmother. It's Saturday. Maybe you should make a date—maybe with Paige."
"You have to call Paige by Monday or Tuesday at the latest for a weekend date."
"Somehow I think she might make an exception for you. You've got a devilish charm when you choose to use it."
"Don't go thinking there's some possibility of a longterm relationship with Paige. That won't happen."
"Why not?"
He shrugged. "Because we aren't right for each other and we are definitely not in the same financial bracket."
"So what? Money isn't everything, not if you love each other. But that isn't the real problem, is it? You don't think you know how to love. And you're afraid to trust anyone who says she loves you."
He shifted his feet, uncomfortable with the conversation. "Paige hasn't said she loves me, because she doesn't, and I sure as hell don't love her. I barely know her."
"You knew her well enough to make out with her last night. Or are you going to tell me you were just talking?"
"It's a different world, Grandma."
She laughed at that. "It's the same world, Riley, and I'm not so old I don't remember what desire feels like."
"You know, I have to go." He was not going to discuss desire with his grandmother.
"To see Paige? Give her my love, or better yet— give her yours."
* * *
Paige let herself into the mansion in Pacific Heights that had housed four generations of Hathaways. She was met almost immediately by the latest housekeeper, Alma Johnson.
"Let me take your coat, Miss Hathaway," Alma said. "Did you come to see your mother? Because she's at the hospital."
Paige handed over her coat. "Actually, I came to see my grandfather. Is he in?"
"Yes, he is."
"I'll go on up, then. Thanks." Paige made her way to the third floor with heavy feet and a reluctant heart. She told herself that her grandfather wasn't a bad guy; he was just impatient, opinionated, ruthless. Okay, maybe he was a little bit of a bad guy. He certainly didn't suffer fools, and he could definitely hold a grudge. He'd told the story a hundred times of a childhood friend who'd asked out the girl he was interested in. Wallace had never forgiven him. Their ten years of friendship had ended with that one lapse in judgment.
Which was why Paige hesitated in the hall outside his study. Talking to her grandfather about the Delaneys and the dragon or even her role at Hathaway's could be a definite lapse in judgment on her part. She wished Riley were here, but she knew she had to do this by herself. This was her family, after all.
She glanced at the portrait of her grandmother that hung on the wall near the door to her grandfather's study. It had been painted on the eve of her wedding to Wallace. Dolores Cunningham Hathaway had a beautiful smile and a serene expression on her face, as if she knew exactly what she wanted out of life. Paige wondered if her grandmother had been able to soften the sharp edges of her husband, if she had stood up to Wallace, or if he had controlled her the way he did everyone else. Unfortunately, she would never know. Her grandmother had died long before her birth, and Wallace had been single ever since. She supposed there must have been other women in his life at some point, but if there had been, he'd kept them away from the family.
Was that because he'd been so in love with her grandmother he couldn't bear to be with anyone else? Was that the kind of love he'd known? It seemed difficult to believe. He was such a hard, cold man. Maybe he'd been different then. Maybe he'd changed. The death of a wife and child would be enough to change any man.
How odd that both her father and her grandfather had lost their daughters—their first daughters.
An eerie shiver drew goose bumps along her arms. They weren't part of this curse. They didn't have the dragon, which had only just surfaced in Ned Delaney's attic. If anyone had felt the curse, it would have been Ned. But Ned Delaney and her grandfather had known each other. They'd posed for a photograph together. Was that all it had taken? Had just touching Ned Delaney's hand, the hand that had held the dragon, been enough to launch a curse? Or was all this foolishness?