Page 50 of My Favorite Boss

“Four years. The disease really took hold last year, and his memory is almost gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s an awful disease. He’s here, but he isn’t. I see the dad I love. He sees a stranger most of the time. Especially now.”

Her voice was low as she spoke. “When his memory started to fail, once the doctors gave him a diagnosis, we sat down and talked about the future. He was accepting, still having the capability of knowing he was forgetting more and more. We toured homes and both liked the place where he is now. He balked at the cost, but I knew what I would have to do for him to be placed there. Once I could no longer leave him home alone, he went there and stayed in the ward until the house was sold and I could move him to a private room. I furnished it with pieces from the house, and he was comfortable. He knew me still, and visits were filled with recollections of his life.” She was quiet for a moment. “Gradually, he forgot about me, living in the past. Some days, he doesn’t communicate at all, lost to a world I don’t know. Those are the hardest days. I miss him so much. His guidance. The laughter we shared.”

“You were close,” I stated, hearing the love she had for him in her tone.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve been alone all this time?”

“I’m not alone. I sold the house to friends, with the arrangement I could live down here at a fixed rate. Gran used to rent this space for extra income and it worked well, so I became the extra income for Grant and Lily. Grant does financial planning, and he helped me invest the money so most of the interest pays for Dad’s care. I only have to draw on the capital when needed, and it should last as long as Dad is alive. My salary pays my rent and living expenses.”

I couldn’t help the swell of pride I felt as I looked at her. I thought she was incredible. Strong and resilient. Brave. I touched her cheek, feeling the dampness of her skin.

“Does it upset you living here?”

“No. I like it here. I have so many things of my gran’s around me, it still feels like home. I didn’t need the huge space upstairs. I would have rambled around all the time. They let me store stuff up in the attic too, and if I want to go in the backyard, I’m welcome. I have dinner with them and see the space often.”

I looked around, the eclectic pieces making more sense to me. This was her history. Pieces of her life she kept close.

“My gran was a bit of a fashion plate, and I always loved her clothes. Some of the blouses I wear were hers. Others, I pick apart and sew into new ones. But I loved that period. The lace and silks. The elegance.” She shrugged, peeking up and looking self-conscious. “I know people think I dress funny, but I like it.”

“I like how you dress,” I assured her. “It suits you, and you’re incredibly sexy. You’re more covered up than most of the women in the office, yet you’re a siren, Myers. Some days I can barely concentrate.”

“Oh,” she replied, looking pleased.

“I’m not sure how I’ll concentrate now that I know what the lace and silk are hiding.” I grinned at her. “Never mind the lumberjack outfits.”

She laughed and I joined her, kissing the end of her nose. “Ignore the haters. They’re unhappy, so they want you to be as well.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“My mother is never happy. Ever. Even when she gets what she wants. It took me a long time to understand she was trying to make me unhappy too. Now, we just argue, and I go on living my life. She broods and schemes. She tires me,” I admitted. “I try not to let her, but she knows how to push my buttons. I see her as little as possible.”

“What about your brother?”

“Stepbrother. He’s a social climber. He’s seen with the right women. Has the right connections. We meet on occasion at a function. Shake hands and smile. That’s about it.”

“What about holidays? Birthdays, that sort of thing?”

“I’m alone.”

She looked stricken, worrying her lip between her teeth. “You?” I asked.

“I go see my dad. He doesn’t remember me most of the time now, but I still go see him.”

“What else do you do?”

“I have dinner with friends. Christmas, I volunteer at one of the soup kitchens, feeding people.”

“So, you’re alone too,” I summarized.

“Not as alone as you.”

“You think there are different degrees of being alone? I think in the end it’s all the same.”