“Where’s Harper?” he demanded without preamble the second he plunged into the room.
Marianne blinked, looking startled.
“At the pool. Or at least she was as of about twenty minutes ago, when I took her there.”
He exhaled in relief. At least she hadn’t left the house to return to Tahoe.
He found her just where Marianne said she’d be. She wore a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and her long, copper-colored hair was in a bun on the top of her head. She sat at the edge of the pool, her pretty legs dipped in the water.
“Hi,” she said, looking surprised when she saw him stalk up to her. Her large eyes traveled down him. He was still wearing his suit from last night.
“I didn’t think you’d be up so early,” he said, trying to read the expression on her face, and failing.
“I’ve been up since three thirty,” she said, setting aside the magazine she’d been reading. “I thought I’d look for the pool when it got light. It seemed like a better option than waiting in your bedroom, wondering where you were.”
“I’m sorry. Shit. I’ve been saying that a lot lately, haven’t I?” he muttered, clamping his eyes shut briefly.
“What happened?”
He opened his eyes. She was irritated with him, but it was concern he read most clearly on her face at the moment.
“I had to take her to the hospital,” he said.
She lifted her feet out of the water and stood, facing him.
“Is she all right?”
He nodded. “Her date had left her, and she’d gotten into the hotel room’s liquor. She sounded bad off when I finally got ahold of her last night. By the time I got to the hotel, she’d passed out. I took her over to UCSF’s emergency room, but there wasn’t much they could do except assure me that she was going to be fine and give her an IV to rehydrate her.”
“Didn’t the doctor recommend that she go back to rehab?”
“Of course he did, and they had a social worker come and talk to her to try to convince her to return. But they can’t force her to go, and Regina was flat-out refusing.”
“Where is she now?” Harper asked, stepping closer.
“Back at her hotel room, sleeping.”
“Do you think she’ll be all right? Alone?”
“No. Last night I arranged for Elizabeth to fly in and stay with her. Elizabeth will get her back to Napa later today. Regina has a psychiatrist there that she trusts. I’ve let him know what happened. Regina agreed to go back last night. Let’s hope she remembers the agreement this morning.”
She touched his face with cool fingertips. The caress took him by surprise. He hadn’t been prepared for tenderness on her part. He would have thought he’d be reassured by it, but instead he was even more worried. Her calmness somehow made him wary . . . like she was pulling away from him. He would have preferred accusations and tears.
“You look exhausted,” she said quietly.
He reached up and held her wrist, keeping her fingers in place on his skin . . . always doubtful something would pull her away.
Even now.
“So do you,” he replied, his gaze running over her face. The scar near her mouth looked even paler than usual, and there were light purple circles beneath her eyes.
“You did all that for her,” she whispered.
He grimaced. “I didn’t feel like I had a choice. She’s been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and she has a history of cocaine and heroin abuse. I wasn’t sure what else she’d taken, besides alcohol. She couldn’t tell me, the state she was in. That’s why I took her to the hospital.”
“I understand.” Her fingers slipped off his face. He saw her swallow thickly. She looked achingly bea
utiful to him in the pale morning light. So far out of your reach.