Come Lie With Me - Linda Howard [11]
“He didn’t exactly agree,” Dione replied honestly, smiling. “But I’m here anyway, and I’m staying. I’ll need everyone’s cooperation to handle him, though.”
“You just tell me what you want,” Alberta said with pure confidence. “Miguel, who takes care of the grounds and drives Mr. Remington’s car, will do as I tell him. My stepdaughter, Angela, cleans the house, and she’ll also do as I say.”
Most people would, Dione thought privately. Alberta Quincy was the most regal person she’d ever met. There wasn’t much expression in her face and her voice was even and deliberate, but there was a force to the woman that most people wouldn’t be able to resist. She would be an indispensable ally.
Dione outlined the diet she wanted Blake to follow, and explained why she wanted changes made. The last thing she wanted to do was offend Alberta. But Alberta merely nodded. “Yes, I understand.”
“If he gets angry, put all the blame on me,” Dione said. “At this point, I want him to be angry. I can use anger, but I can’t work with indifference.”
Again Alberta nodded her regal head. “I understand,” she said again. She wasn’t a talkative woman, to understate the matter, but she did understand, and to Dione’s relief she didn’t express any doubts.
There was one other problem, and Dione broached it cautiously. “About Mr. Remington’s sister…”
Alberta blinked once, slowly, and nodded. “Yes,” she said simply.
“Does she have a key to the house?” Gold eyes met green ones, and the communication between the two women was so strong that Dione had the sudden feeling that words were unnecessary.
“I’ll have the locks changed,” Alberta said. “But there’ll be trouble.”
“It’ll be worth the benefits. I can’t have his routine interrupted once I get him started on it, at least until he can see some improvement for himself and will want to continue with it. I think Mr. Dylan can handle his wife.”
“If he even wants to any longer,” Alberta said calmly.
“I think he does. He doesn’t seem like a man to give up very easily.”
“No, but he’s also very proud.”
“I don’t want to cause trouble between them, but Mr. Remington is my concern, and if that causes friction, then they have to handle it as best they can.”
“Mrs. Dylan worships her brother. He raised her; their mother died when Mrs. Dylan was thirteen.”
That explained a lot, and Dione spared a moment of sympathy for both Serena and Richard; then she pushed thoughts of them away. She couldn’t consider them; Blake would take all her concentration and energy.
Suddenly she was very tired. It had been a full day, and though it was only late afternoon, she needed to rest. The battle would begin in earnest in the morning, and she’d need a good night’s sleep in order to face it. Starting tomorrow, her hands would be full.
Alberta saw the sudden fatigue that tightened Dione’s features and within minutes had a sandwich and a glass of milk sitting on the table. “Eat,” she said, and Dione knew better than to argue. She sat down and ate.
Dione’s alarm clock went off at five-thirty the next morning. She rose and took a shower, her movements brisk and certain from the moment she got out of bed. She always woke instantly, her mind clear, her coordination in perfect sync. It was one reason why she was such a good therapist; if a patient needed her during the night, she didn’t stumble around rubbing her eyes. She was instantly capable of doing whatever was required of her.
Something told her that Blake wouldn’t be such a cheerful riser, and she could feel her heartbeat speeding up as she brushed her long hair and braided it in one thick braid. Anticipation of the coming battle ran through her veins like liquid joy, making her eyes sparkle and giving a rosy flush to her skin.
The morning was still cool, but she knew from experience that exertion would make her warm, so she dressed in brief blue shorts,