Xavier had already gone by the time she stepped onto the sidewalk and received alarmed glances from passersby. Shaken and barely able to see through her tears, she appeared to be on her own.
"Whoa. Did you get the number of the horse and buggy that hit you?" Gary sat on the hood of his car, smoke curling around his head. He flicked a cigarette into the gutter and walked over to Gilda for a closer look.
"Ha. Ha." Even her cheeks hurt. "I'm not in the mood for dealing with you. I'm going home to soak in a whole lot of ice."
"No way, lady," Gary said. "You're in no shape to walk anywhere. Get in the car. I'll give you a ride."
"No thanks. It's only a few blocks. I'll get there on my own." She stumbled away from him, the weight of her duffel bag throwing her off balance.
He sighed. "Stubborn little mule. You're just like your father. I'm not going to try anything funny. I swear on your daddy's grave. You're badly hurt, and my only concern is to get you home safe."
Gilda hesitated. If she sat in his car now, she might not stand again for days.
"You can call for a police escort, if it makes you feel any better. I'll even loan you my phone." Gary took the phone out of his pocket and handed it to her.
She rolled her watery eyes, unable to speak.
"Come on, honey. If your old man had ever seen my Chloe as beat up as you, he would've made sure she got home, no matter whose kid she was. I owe him that much." He pocketed the phone then grasped the handles of her duffel bag. "Of course, he also would've arrested the so-and-so who did it to her, but that part's way out of my league."
She let go of her bag and let him toss it into the backseat. When he opened the car door, she eased her weary body onto the passenger seat, in no shape to fight anymore. All she wanted was to go home, sit in a warm bath, and cry. "Thank you."
He pulled into traffic. "Who did this to you? If you say Mick, I'll fix him good."
She sniffled. "Actually, he put a stop to it."
"Huh. Now I am surprised. It must have been that Yoshida character, then," Gary said. "I hate to point this out, but no teacher should ever do this to their student. Somebody needs to teach him a thing or two about respect. You want me to arrange a little payback? I can get a guy who's so quiet and fast, even Yoshida won't know what hit him."
"You're very thoughtful in a weird sort of way, but no thank you."
"You're just going to lick your wounds and pretend it never happened, huh?" he asked. "You won't even stand up for yourself."
"Yup." Gilda rubbed her throbbing lip. "That's pretty much the idea."
Gary made a U-turn and pulled the car directly in front of her house. Before she could orient herself to open the door, he ran around to let her out and grabbed her duffel. "Let's get you inside and settled. You got some ice for those bruises?"
"Not as much as I think I'll need," she said.
"How much do you think you'll need?"
"Enough to fill my bathtub." She struggled up each step and let him unlock the front door.
"You may want to think a tad smaller scale to avoid hypothermia." He led her to the couch and helped her sit then strolled into the kitchen to rifle through the freezer portion of her fridge. "At least you've got enough here for a good start. I'll make up a couple ice packs then get you some more for later."
Gilda leaned in the doorway. As much as Gary scared her silly, she had to admire the way he'd dropped everything—even if he was stalking Mick—to help take care of her. "You know, I can look after myself."
"Yeah, I can see that from all the bruises. Nonsense. It's no bother. You sit and relax. I'll get what you need." He poured ice cubes into a couple large plastic bags and zipped them closed. "You got any painkillers? You're going to need them once the shock wears off."
"Top cupboard to the left of the fridge." She ambled into the living room and slouched on the couch with her ice pack and a bottle of water. Her body ached from head to sole, and she began to shiver.
"Take these before the shock wears off." Gary handed her the bottle of anti-inflammatory. He draped a plush blanket over her legs and turned on the television. "I'm going to Happy's for more ice. You need anything else? Whiskey? Wine? A good hit man? I know guys."
This time she laughed, hoping he was making a warped joke. "I'm good. Thanks, Gary. You go on home, and I'll—" She waved a hand, at a loss for words. What would she do without him? Cry. Fall apart. Lose her mind.
"Don't worry. I'll be right back." He pulled the door closed.
Gilda reached for the phone on the coffee table and lost her balance. She toppled off the couch onto the hardwood floor, landing on her already-aching wrist. Not one of her most graceful moves, but at least Gary had already left. After she made sure she hadn't caused any further injuries, she dialed her mom's home number.
"Gilda, how are you? I really hoped I'd see you on the long weekend. Did you find something fun to do? You didn't hang out with that boss of yours, did you? How are Marion and your friend Walter?" Her mom's rapid-fire questions sent Gilda physically reeling against the couch.
"I'm good. Mom, Walter's dead. I told you that the other day."
Stunned silence from her mom.
Gilda took advantage of the rare opportunity. "Do you know Gary del Garda?"
Still nothing.
"Mom? Are you there?"
A rush of breath came over the phone. "How do you know Gary del Garda?"
Gilda explained about running into him several times since Walter's death. "He seems to be looking out for me, which is actually creepy. I'm not sure I like the attention."
"Did he say why he's stalking you?"
"He's not stalking me. He's actually following Mick, for some reason. Business, I guess. I just seem to run into him while I'm coming and going," Gilda said. "You know him, right?"
"Yes, and he's a dangerous man. You keep your distance from him."
"Hey, Gilda. It's just me." The dangerous man in question ran up the front step and knocked on her door. "I've got your stuff."
"Have to go, Mom. I'll call you later." Gilda cringed at what her neighbors would think if they heard a known criminal yell at her door about having her stuff. She tucked the phone beneath the couch cushion. "Come in."
Gary gasped, out of breath as if he ran rather than drove the few blocks to Happy Harvey's and back. "What are you doing on the floor? You were on the couch when I left. Are you okay? Should I take you to the hospital?"
"Wow. You sound just like my mother." She faked a laugh. "I'm fine. I lost my balance trying to reach the phone. What did you bring?"
"A bag of ice." He crossed the room in two large steps with a large paper bag and set it on the coffee table. In one hand he clutched a couple of single roses from the plastic vase on Happy's front counter. "A bottle of wine, a couple apples, and frozen microwave lasagna. I thought you might be hungry. I'm actually a great cook, but I didn't think you'd want me messing around in your kitchen and sticking around for another hour or two."
She reached for the small bag of ice that had fallen on the floor. "That's really thoughtful. Thanks."
Gary took everything into the kitchen. Five minutes later, he returned with a fresh ice pack, the heated lasagna transferred to a plate with a side salad. He disappeared into the kitchen again and brought her a glass of white wine and the two roses in a small vase.
Gilda smiled, for real this time, and wiped away a tear. "I think you're the best butler I've ever had."
His face paled. "What did you call me?"
"A butler." She frowned. "What did you think I said?"
"Nothing. Eat, rest, and build up some strength. You have a funeral to go to tomorrow. Make sure you lock the door in case that spineless little rat wasn't finished with you."
"What do you mean, rat?" Gilda narrowed her eyes. "Figure of speech. Have a good night. I'll check on you tomorrow." He was gone before she could open her mouth to thank him.
There were a number of people she could call to find out more about Gary, including Marion. Unfortunately, she was overcome by the tears she'd fought off for the past half hour and was in no shape to speak to any of them. Gary, she figured, was the least of her concerns. He was after Mick, not her.