Broken Heart Attack Read online

  I lifted my head and saw my mother staring back at me. “You look like someone just stole your favorite blanket, my son.” And with that, she pulled me against her, squeezed as hard as she could, and kissed my cheek. “I'm always here if you need to talk, Kellan. Even though I sense there's something weighing heavily on your mind, I know better than to push you.”

  Just a few words from my mother helped me realize despite some of the awful situations going on around me, I still had loads of love and support in my life. She offered to take Emma shopping for the afternoon to buy some new spring clothes, then encouraged me to attend the King Lear dress rehearsal with Nana D and the Paddington family. Although I wasn't in the mood for heavy drama, I changed into a suit and dashed to the theater in a daze.

  The performance started at two o'clock which meant I had at least thirty minutes to find Nana D and Gwendolyn to get my ticket. When I entered the lobby, there was a sea of guests meandering around aimlessly. Arthur entered the lobby and called approximately three-hundred guests to attention by instructing everyone where to look on their tickets for the assigned seat number. As people filed into the venue, the noise level grew more tolerable and I could freely move around without feeling every nook and cranny of every weirdo in the joint. First up was texting Nana D to find out where I'd be sitting. If she sat me next to some new Tinder blind date she'd coordinated…

  Me: Where are you? It's like a blue-haired Neil Diamond concert in here today.

  Nana D: More like a wannabe Lady Gaga gig. Don't you know any current pop references?

  Me: Given the number of septuagenarians, I assumed they wouldn't know who she was.

  Nana D: You know what happens when you ASS-U-ME, don't you, Kellan?

  Me: That was weak even for you. Epic FAIL! Where's my ticket?

  Nana D: I left it at the Box Office. Wasn't sure you'd show. Go get it. Now.

  Me: Yes, chief. On my way. You're feisty today. Too much bran? Not enough veges?

  Nana D: Pop a cork in it and get to your seat. You ain't seen nothing yet, brilliant one.

  I waved to Fern while passing by other colleagues whose names I'd failed to remember. As I approached the ticket window, Maggie looked up, smiled, and dropped a bag of programs to the floor. Her flawless alabaster skin was a perfect offset to rich brown hair and eyes that tempted everyone to fall in love with her.

  “I didn't expect to see you here today,” I said debating whether to lean in and hug her. Maggie made the decision when she stepped forward and kissed my cheek.

  “I volunteered to hold tickets for anyone picking them up at will call. Then I'm seeing the show with Connor. He's finishing at the office and should be here any minute,” Maggie said while stepping away from me. The fresh lavender smell of her skin comforted and teased me.

  Did she consider it a date? The last time Connor and I had talked, my former best friend told me he'd been in love with my former girlfriend for years and planned to get to know her better. I hadn't seen either in a decade, so I didn't feel comfortable stopping them from taking a chance. Maggie could date whomever she wanted. Okay, except Connor. There, I said it out loud.

  “Oh, sounds fun. I believe you might be holding a ticket for me,” I noted timidly trying to keep myself from thinking about Maggie in any way other than as a friend.

  “Oh, yes. Nana D dropped it off a few minutes ago. Come on back, it's inside the office. As I followed Maggie through the door, she asked me not to close it all the way. “It sometimes gets stuck, and you can only open it from the outside.”

  I found a small, wire wastepaper basket in the narrow hallway and wedged it between the door and its frame to prevent it from closing. “How've you been? I'm so sorry about canceling dinner last Tuesday.”

  Maggie smiled and placed her hand on top of mine. “Emma comes first. We have plenty of time to get to know each other again, right?”

  Her warm touch reminded me of a finely spun silk scarf caressing my palm. Every cherished moment in our past together vied for control of my attention. A flood of heat surged through my torn body. I almost got lost in the moment, but a loud thud interrupted my thoughts. “What was that?” I asked turning around.

  “Oh no, the door must've closed,” Maggie moaned rushing past me and kicking the rolling wastepaper basket out of her way. She tried opening the door, but it wouldn't budge. I looked at the clock and verified we had several minutes before the show began. My phone chimed.

  Nana D: A brilliant person once told me to use my time wisely. I think you should heed the same advice. I'll let you out when the show starts. Go get her, tiger.

  “I think we'll be fine. It appears fate in the form of a nosy old woman who will be properly punished has intervened,” I said shaking my head.

  “Nana D?”

  “Yep.”

  “She saw me struggle with the door earlier. I might've said something about it being broken.”

  Perhaps Nana D had a point, but what could one really do with such a short amount of time? All I could think about was that silly game we played in junior high school. As I remembered the name, Maggie said, “It's like we've been locked in the closet to play Seven Minutes in Heaven.” When she walked by me to access the back-office area, her skin flushed a deep shade of crimson.

  “Are you saying being locked in here with me is like heaven?” I felt cheesy using the line, but so much of our past connection revolved around humor and acting silly. “It must be a thoroughly different game at thirty-two than it was at twelve, right?”

  Maggie giggled and handed me my ticket. “It's been a long time since we actually kissed. Do you remember that night we got locked in the library?”

  I did. “It was the night we first said I love you to one another.”

  A huge part of me wanted to take a few steps closer to Maggie to see if the touch of her lips against mine would ignite the same intensity it had years ago. It seemed like she was struggling with a similar longing and began leaning toward me.

  When we met in the middle, we stood staring at one another for what felt like an eternity. Who would make the first move? I didn't think I was strong enough since I couldn't split my focus between her and Francesca. Foolishly, I asked, “Are you sure about this?”

  The chemistry between us temporarily broke when the door busted open. I had just enough time to back two steps away before Connor saw us.

  “Ah, did you get locked in again?” Connor said in a hesitant voice while squinting with concern. His all-black suit, dark and stormy complexion, and striking facial features made us both do a double take. Maggie because of his general sexiness according to all woman and half the male population, me because Connor had been a frequent weight-lifter who could easily knock me out with a single punch.

  I released a bunch of hot air from my mouth. “Yes, thank you. I needed to get my ticket. I'm meeting Nana D and her friends.”

  As I rushed past, Connor stopped me. A musky cologne consumed the remaining oxygen between us in the small passageway. “It's good to see you. We should grab a beer sometime soon now that you're living in Braxton.” His thick, rich Caribbean accent was more noticeable than normal.

  “I like the sound of that,” I mumbled while giving him an awkward thumbs-up sign. Was I back in college again? As I took off toward the double doors opening into the venue, Nana D winked. “Sorry, kiddo, I tried. But that man is one hot piece of beef we can't ignore. Pity I'm not ten years younger.”

  While we searched for our seats, I gagged over Nana D's comment. I also told myself Connor's interruption was a good thing. I couldn't get involved with Maggie until I knew what was going on with Francesca. Nor if Maggie and Connor were seriously interested in one another. They deserved a chance since I'd blown mine years ago.

  I sat in the front center row between Nana D and Gwendolyn. To Gwendolyn's right was Eustacia, then Millard. Lindsey was on the other side of Nana D, which annoyed Eustacia since they were still involved in some sort of quirky, repressed love triangle.
I apparently took after Nana D way more than I wanted to admit.

  Gwendolyn leaned over to me. “I'm glad you came to your senses and attended the show. My son-in-law, Richard, was the one who canceled. That's who you overheard me talking with yesterday.”

  “I'm sorry he's missed out. I hope you two can patch things up,” I replied noticing Gwendolyn didn't look well. Her hands shook more than normal, and her breathing seemed labored.

  “Richard's a pain in my ass. Always has been. I'll fix him one day, but right now, I'm more concerned about my son, Timothy,” she spit out with a clear sense of frustration and mixed-emotions.

  “I guess we never stop worrying about our kids, huh?” Emma's future reaction to learning her mother was still alive had frightened me to a point I'd never reached before as a parent.

  “Timothy and I had a long talk last night. Important stuff. The relationship between parents and their children is never easy, Kellan. I've got a few pieces of dead fruit of my loins hanging around, and I intend to clear those limbs off the tree soon enough. Sometimes we don't know our family as well as we think we do. There's something everyone's hiding these days, even in your brood, too. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough.” As Gwendolyn sat up straight with her back firmly pressed against the seat, I wondered what she'd meant by her last few comments. Was she talking about disinheriting them or evicting them from the house? And what did it have to do with my family?

  I looked around to see who else I knew. Dana and Arthur stood on the far corner of the stage embroiled in an animated discussion. I could hear people behind me chattering about this being Dana's first big role on a college production. I turned my head to the side and saw who I thought was likely her mother, Ophelia, whispering to someone directly behind me. I couldn't turn around further without it looking obvious, so I'd have to try again during the intermission. I heard Ophelia say, “It's not like she has anything else going on in her life. She's certainly my laziest child.”

  Ophelia could give her mother, Gwendolyn, a run for her money when it came to bad-mouthing her own children. Just as the other person behind me was about to respond, Myriam stepped to the stage, organized her notes on the podium, and introduced the debut performance of King Lear. The first half lasted about an hour and kept everyone entertained. Despite their differences, Arthur and Myriam pulled off an engaging performance full of wit, depth, and intelligence.

  When intermission began, I stood to stretch in such a way I could see who was behind us. I was clearly able to tell Ophelia and Jennifer were sisters given their shoulder-length, chestnut-brown hair, sparkling green eyes, and golden-tan complexion. Ophelia was the older of the pair, probably early to mid-fifties, but it was evident only in a few fine lines beginning to develop around her mouth and on her forehead. She probably wore top-tier designer clothes only released on this year's fashion runway and had been to the salon moments before the show. To say she'd recently had a lengthy blow-out would be over-stating the obvious. How did hair triple in size to such an all-consuming degree?

  Jennifer was less bold in her appearance. Instead of faint hints of aging, the contours of her face were smoother and softer with a penchant for dark, moody colors. She was an inch taller than her sister putting her closer to my range, but she since wore heels we were practically the same height. Jennifer dressed more casually covering up her svelte figure with a stylish black A-line dress and silver wrap.

  When Nana D and her friends stepped into the aisle in search of the restroom, I listened in to Jennifer's and Ophelia's conversation. Jennifer said, “Mother has been particularly difficult the last few weeks. Every time we have one of her little chats, it's an inquisition. I'm forty-seven years old and do not need her relentless judgment.”

  Ophelia nodded in agreement. “Awful. I know we're supposed to love our parents, but it's time for her to get with the program or take her final bow.”

  “You said it. I wish she'd learn to be kinder and more open-minded. I feel like she's always miserable and never thinks about what's best for us. It's constantly what she wants,” Jennifer sniped.

  “That's why Timothy avoided it all today. He's the only one in the family who didn't show up,” Ophelia said. Timothy was the middle brother, but I hardly knew anything about him nor had I ever met the man as far as I could recall. While Timothy and Jennifer didn't have any kids, Ophelia had two others besides Dana. I'd just never been introduced to either of them.

  “Except your husband. Where is Richard these days… off galivanting again?” Jennifer accused with a gaze that seemed to penetrate right through Ophelia's skin and scratch at her iron composure.

  “He's meeting with clients. At least I can keep a husband around. Still waiting for mother's approval, are you?” Ophelia continued their vicious barbs against one another. “You know the only way to control her is to stand up to her. Mother doesn't like it when we all stick together or say no to her.”

  Jennifer stood as if to walk away, then chose not to. “Maybe we should all confront her and tell her it's time to let go of Father's money and give us our inheritances.”

  “Let's discuss it another time. I need to talk with Dana before the second half. Can you get out of my way?” Ophelia demanded while waving both hands furiously.

  When Ophelia went searching for Dana, and Jennifer wandered closer to the stage, I strolled to the lobby to hunt for Nana D. I couldn't find her but saw Gwendolyn talking to a man in his fifties. They looked like they were arguing. As I approached, it appeared like he grabbed hold of her wrist with intensity. Gwendolyn almost spilled her drink from the pressure he'd applied. By the time I reached her, he'd already walked away.

  “Are you okay, Mrs. Paddington? It looked like that man was harassing you,” I asked scanning the room to see if he was still nearby.

  “That was my son, Timothy. He needed to talk to me for a minute. Have you seen Brad around?” Gwendolyn asked appearing like she was about to fall apart.

  “I don't know anyone named Brad,” I responded as Nana D walked up with a younger guy.

  “Brad is Gwennie's nurse. She can't find the travel bottle with her medicine in her purse. I called him earlier to drop it off.” Nana D introduced me to Brad, a fit guy in his mid-twenties wearing skinny jeans and a heather gray sweater.

  “I'm right here, Mrs. Paddington. Here's your medication.” Brad handed her several pills.

  “You'll have to explain to me how we screwed this up earlier. I thought you'd put the bottle in my purse. But I don't have time to discuss it right now. I'm coming right home once the show ends,” Gwendolyn noted before tossing the pills into her mouth. From the brief glimpse I had, there were three tablets ranging from small to large sizes and coated in different colors. Brad waited for her to swallow them, reminded her to take a sip of her iced tea to wash them down, and then disappeared probably used to being dismissed as one of the servants who knew his place in the household.

  “Should we take you home? I'm like your older brother. You should listen to me,” Millard said.

  “Nah, I'll be fine. Just lost my breath for a few minutes. Let's go sit down,” Gwendolyn replied.

  We all scrambled into the theater and took our seats. Jennifer and Ophelia had already returned and stood near one another but were clearly not speaking. While Eustacia held her sister-in-law's glass, Lindsey helped Gwendolyn get seated. Nana D introduced me to Ophelia's two other children, Sam, a senior at Braxton, and Lilly who'd graduated two years earlier. Neither noticed their grandmother profusely sweating or her inability to get situated without nearly falling. The Paddingtons were a strange family. Everyone seemed to care enough to show up, but no one looked fond of one another.

  When the lights blinked several times, Myriam stepped onto the stage to announce intermission was over and the show was about to begin. A few seconds later, the theater went dark. The actors portraying King Lear and the Fool appeared on stage for one of my favorite sets of witty and revealing dialogs. Midway into the scene, something bump
ed my right shoulder. I looked to the side only to notice Gwendolyn leaning into me. I whispered, “Is the performance that boring?” but she didn't answer.

  I nudged her arm thinking she'd fallen asleep, but that didn't rouse her either. I shook her more forcefully. Gwendolyn wouldn't respond. I activated the flashlight on my cell phone and shined it on her face. It appeared Gwendolyn had passed out after the lights went down. I pressed my fingers into her cool and saturated neck searching for her carotid artery. I couldn't find a pulse, nor could I find any sign of life. I leaned over to Nana D and said, “I think Gwendolyn just died in her seat!”

  Chapter 4

  Interrupting a live theater performance was not an easy task. While my stomach revolted over finding another dead body and having it physically leaning against me in the dark, I made use of my extensive grasp on the English language to delicately inform the actors we needed to stop the show. As Lear emphatically cursed the weather surrounding him, I'd been forced to shout over him from a few feet off center stage. First came the boos and sounds of people hushing my disturbance. Then the actor portraying Lear turned to me in full character questioning if I were the impetuous and virulent storm about to hit the stage. Thankfully, once the lighting director moved the spotlight to my seat, the entire troupe could see I was serious about someone needing medical attention.

  Myriam assumed control of the stage and directed all the guests to quietly and orderly file into the main lobby. Nana D volunteered to call 9-1-1 as I kept Gwendolyn's family from rushing up to check on her. I knew the woman had passed away, and while I hadn't truly given credence to her suspicions about someone in her family trying to kill her, it was important to prevent what could be a crime scene from contamination. I'd learned that tenet many times over in the past from our county sheriff.

  Eustacia moaned loudly and turned to Lindsey for comfort. Millard, her brother, stepped to the side aisle to provide some space, but I was too focused on Ophelia's daughters to listen to his conversation. A tear-stained Jennifer breathed in and out in an almost panicked mode but soon gained control of her composure. Ophelia kept looking toward two of her children to see how they were reacting, but she didn't appear to be shocked or devastated by her mother's passing. Dana was still back stage and probably hadn't known who'd fallen ill or what'd stopped the performance.