Blair’s head swam. A heart attack? Oh God, no! She should never have left. She should have known he’d take on all the responsibility of the restaurant and refuse to hire another chef, or even share more of the workload with the sous chef. This was all her fault—and Draco’s.
“Can I speak with him?” she managed through lips that felt numb.
“He’s sedated at present, but I can pass a message on.”
“Please, tell him not to worry about Carson’s. I’ll be on the next plane home. Tell him I’ll take care of things. All he needs to do is get well again.”
She took a few details from the doctor, then hung up the phone and sank against the wall. A heart attack. She closed her eyes and drew in a shuddering breath. She could have lost her father, and all because Draco insisted on her having his baby here in his beloved Tuscany. Well, as far as Blair was concerned, where the baby was born was neither here nor there anymore. Her father needed her, and, as Draco was so fond of pointing out to her, family came first.
Her duty to her father was no less than his to his family, celebrated history or not.
She pulled her ragged thoughts together and picked up the telephone to dial Information. She had to get home as quickly as possible. Her father’s health, even his life, depended on it.
Thirteen
By the time Blair staggered up the stairs to the flat above the restaurant she was shattered. The irony of flying from Rome to London and then making a connecting flight via Hong Kong to Auckland wasn’t lost on her. Briefly, she’d been in the same city as Draco and he hadn’t even known it. With the number of time zones she’d been through, she felt as if she’d been traveling for days, even if it had only been something over thirty hours. But she was here. Home. Where she was needed and wanted.
It was nearing lunchtime, but all she wanted was to fall into bed and sleep. She made a quick call to the hospital and asked to be put through to her dad, but her call was intercepted by a nurse who told her he was resting comfortably. Blair left a brief message with the nurse for her father, disappointed she couldn’t speak to him. She’d only be able to manage a few hours’ sleep before she’d need to be on deck downstairs. Calling him again would have to wait until morning. But still, he’d know she was here and taking care of things, and now he could consent to the surgery that would keep him with her longer.
Aside from the weariness of her first day back, Blair fell back into the rhythm and routine of Carson’s with a comfort and familiarity she’d always taken for granted. Her father had been scheduled for surgery later in the week and, all going well, he could expect a strong recovery—although he’d never be up to the strain of working at the pace required to keep Carson’s at the peak of its popularity.
Two days later, at the end of her shift, Blair made her way upstairs and gratefully sank into the sagging sofa bed she didn’t quite have the energy to pull out and climb into properly. She kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes.
Despite some swelling in her feet and legs at the end of her shift, she was managing just fine with being back in a busy working kitchen. Although she was coping, it still felt as though something was missing for her. The thrill and excitement of the restaurant’s hectic pace didn’t fire her up and motivate her as much as it had done in the past.
She’d grown soft at the palazzo, she decided. But that didn’t explain the ache in her heart, or the sense that something far more important in her world was missing. She told herself it was only to be expected. She was in love with a man who only saw her as some sort of brood-mare, even if that situation was pretty much of her own making. It was no wonder she was a little deflated—okay, maybe a lot deflated. With the travel, followed by immersing herself straight back into work and the worry about her father’s health, she was entitled to feel a little down.
She wondered if Draco had returned to the palazzo yet. She had no doubt he’d be livid when he discovered her gone. Maybe he’d even sell the restaurant building out from under her. Right now though, she couldn’t care less. Her first priority was to her dad, and in making sure he got through his surgery with flying colors, and the only way to do that was to keep the restaurant humming.
Carson’s maintained its five-star rating on the Fine Dining magazine site, but somehow the accolade seemed hollow. It was, after all, one person’s opinion. Why had it been so important to her, when now it barely mattered at all? In all the years her father had run Carson’s he’d strived for that rating, and during the time they worked together it had become their joint dream. Then, when her father had retired, Blair had assumed the goal as her own—pushing herself and her staff to greater heights to reach that ever-elusive award.