Adrian slept deeply for four straight hours but woke abruptly to the sound of someone knocking at his front door. He panicked instantly, his mind jumping to the worst case scenario – Natalie had taken a turn for the worse and someone was coming to get him. He scrambled out of bed and to the door, frantically yanking it open.
He blinked at the petite Korean woman, dressed in a stylish light blue suit and holding a large blue floral-patterned tote bag at her side, standing on the doorstep.
"Adrian!" she gasped at the sight of him, dropping her bag in her shock. "Are you all right?"
"Cassandra," he said, his pulse beginning to slow down. Their wedding coordinator. "Did — did we have an appointment?" He couldn't seem to get his brain to function enough to flip through his mental calendar.
"Ten-thirty," she confirmed, eyeing him with obvious concern. Every other time she'd met him, he'd been immaculately dressed and groomed. This man had rumpled clothing, an unshaven face, and dark circles under his red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes. "I was just about to leave — I thought maybe I'd gotten it wrong and we were meeting at Natalie's house instead, but she didn't answer her phone…" She trailed off, gazing at him with worry in her eyes.
"I — " He shook his head, trying to clear some of the cobwebs from his mind. "I'm sorry, I forgot. Natalie — " He choked slightly over the words. "Natalie was in a car accident last night. She was hit by a drunk driver."
"Oh my God!" Cassandra exclaimed in horror. "Is she — "
"She's hurt, but she's alive," he said, feeling a rush of relief himself when he remembered that fact. Natalie was alive, and she was going to be fine… eventually. "I'm sorry I didn't call, I got back here around six-thirty this morning and I just fell asleep right away."
"No apologies necessary, considering the circumstances," Cassandra said, picking up her bag from the ground. "I'm so sorry I woke you. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I don't — " He stopped, suddenly remembering the wedding detritus on his coffee table. "Actually, yes." He opened the door wider and ushered her inside, gesturing toward the living room. "Could you pack up her wedding things and just — keep them for a while? I have no idea if — " He searched for what to say. "I don't know what's going to happen," he finished lamely.
"Of course," Cassandra said, moving into the room. She began stacking the various papers with practiced efficiency. "I'll call the printer and postpone the invitations," she said as she worked. "You can notify me in a few weeks if we need to cancel altogether."
"I will," he said with relief.
"I'll keep all the other reservations in place for now," she said, carefully tucking Natalie's binder into her tote bag. "You just let me know once you've had a chance to make any decisions."
"I appreciate it."
"How badly is she hurt?" Cassandra asked anxiously, biting her lower lip. Adrian remembered how well the two of them had hit it off, despite their twelve-year age difference. They'd chattered and giggled together like sisters.
"It could have been worse," he said, running a hand over his hair, "but it's not very good. She has two cracked ribs and two broken ribs, and one of her lungs collapsed. She had her spleen removed, and there was internal bleeding, but her doctor says that she's stable and should make a full recovery. It's going to take time, though."
Cassandra's face softened with relief. "So no head or spinal injuries, or anything like that? Thank God."
"Yeah," he agreed somberly.
She eyed him with sympathy. "Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do? You look wrecked. Can I help you back to bed?"
"No, I can't sleep now," he said. He was wide awake after being so panicked. "I'm just going to eat something, and — "
"That I can help with," she said, brightening. "Why don't you grab a shower while I make you some breakfast?"
"That's really not necessary," he began. "I can — "
"Please let me help, Adrian," she interrupted. "For Natalie's sake."
"I — " He shrugged helplessly, too weary to think of a coherent argument. "All right, I guess."
Despite the interrupted sleep, he felt amazingly more refreshed after he'd showered, shaved, and changed into fresh clothing. The delicious smells emanating from the kitchen were making him faint with hunger. He hadn't had a single thing to eat or drink since — he tried to remember. Supper with Natalie, around six o'clock last night. It seemed like years ago.
"Sit down," Cassandra said cheerfully when he entered the kitchen. "It's all ready."
He stared in disbelief at the three plates she set before him. One egg, over-hard, cooked in a perfect circle with the yolk dead center, two strips of bacon, and two pieces of toast with jam. Finally, she sat down a glass of orange juice.
"How did you — " he asked, feeling ridiculously pleased.
"Natalie told me about your favorite breakfast when we were discussing the wedding brunch, remember?" she said. "You'll need to get more eggs, though — it took me four tries to get that one cooked right."
"I don't know what to say," he said, overwhelmed. "Except… thank you."
"It's my pleasure," she said, hefting her tote bag. "I'm going to dash, but you call me if you think of anything I can do, all right? And let me know when Natalie is well enough for phone calls."
"I will," he promised. "Thanks again, Cassandra."
After he'd eaten the excellent breakfast and washed the dishes, he called the hospital for an update. Natalie's condition was the same as it had been when he'd left, he was told by the nurse on duty. Her vital signs had remained stable throughout the morning, and they expected the sedative to start wearing off this afternoon. She promised to call him if anything changed.
He'd just hung up the phone when it rang again.
"Hey, I didn't wake you, did I?" Leland Stottlemeyer said after he answered.
"No, I was up," Adrian said.
"Did you get any sleep?"
"About four hours."
"Have you eaten?"
"I just finished breakfast."
"Oh." His friend sounded surprised. "Good. You need your strength." He paused. "I, uh, hear the Davenports showed up at the hospital early this morning."
Someone's been talking to Dr. Bell, Adrian thought. "Yes. They took Julie back to their hotel."
"Did everything… go okay?" Leland asked cautiously.
"As well as can be expected, I guess," he said, rubbing his forehead. "I didn't throw her mother out, if that's what you were wondering."
"I assumed she was at least civil, given that Julie left with them," Leland said. "Listen, I thought I'd call and see if you wanted a ride to the hospital."
"I do, but I need your help with something first," Adrian said. When the nurse had promised to call him if anything changed, he'd realized he wasn't reachable unless he was home. "I want to get a cell phone."
There was a full three seconds of silence before Leland repeated, "You want to get a cell phone?"
"I need the hospital to be able to reach me no matter where I am, just in case," he explained. "Can you help me?"
"Of course," Leland said, getting over his surprise. If anything good was going to come out of this situation, it was that Monk was finally going to be dragged kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century.
They were at the cell phone store, waiting for his new phone to be set up, when Adrian dropped another bomb. "I need to buy a car," he said, frowning.
"Right now?" Leland asked, taken aback.
"Not right this minute, but soon. I can't keep depending on other people for rides," he mused. "And it's too expensive — and repulsive — to take cabs everywhere."
"Do you… think you can handle driving?" Leland asked cautiously. He knew that even when Trudy was alive, Monk had driven as little as possible.
Adrian shrugged. "I'm going to have to handle it. Natalie's not going to be able to drive for weeks, maybe months."
Leland slapped his back gently. "I'm proud of you, buddy. You're really stepping up to the plate here, you know that?"
"It's for Natalie," he said simply.
The first person he called on his new cell phone was Julie, who promised to show him the ropes and help him program all the numbers he needed. "Grandma and Grandpa and I were just heading out for a quick lunch," she mentioned. "Do you want to come with?"
"Thanks, but I've already eaten. I'll see you at the hospital in a little while."
On the way to the hospital, Adrian asked Leland if he'd found out any more about the drunk driver who'd hit Natalie.
"As a matter of fact…" Leland said. "He gave his name as Joe Smith, but imagine the surprise of the arresting officers when they discovered that there was a BOLO out on a guy matching his description, plus one on the truck."
"For what?" Adrian asked.
"For suspicion of murder," Leland said. "Remember the body you helped identify right after Valentine's Day?"
The case they'd caught morning after their engagement. "He's the guy?" he said incredulously. "The fire extinguisher guy?"
"He's the guy," Leland confirmed. "He's also the guy who drank the better part of a case of beer and then had the bright idea to go for a joyride. His real name is Jerry Horn. It turns out he'd been hiding in Nevada for the last month, and just came back to San Francisco a few days ago, hoping to sneak over and see his mother." He shook his head. "Using the same truck he'd stolen from the co-worker he killed. He didn't even change the plates. This guy is not the sharpest knife in the drawer."
"He's going down," Adrian said grimly. He would make sure of it, even if it meant calling in every favor he was owed – and he was owed many.
"Gee, you think?" Leland said sarcastically. "He's already going to be charged with felony DUI, second degree murder, and grand theft auto, plus a few lesser charges. He might get the murder charge down to voluntary manslaughter, but even so he's probably going to spend the rest of his life in a cell. I talked to the district attorney earlier this morning, and boy, is he pissed. He told me he's personally taking the case, and pushing for the maximum penalties, with no plea deals."
"Really?" Adrian said, surprised. That was unusual. The D.A. usually tried to negotiate plea deals whenever possible to save the taxpayers the time and expense of a trial. "Why?"
"He likes Natalie," Leland shrugged. "Said he always enjoys talking to her when you're testifying for a case, and he was really impressed at how she handled Wally Dougal. Plus, he was hoping to be invited to the wedding."
"He was on the guest list," Adrian admitted.
"You should come by the division when you have time and talk to some of my officers," Leland told him as he pulled into the hospital parking lot and stopped in front of the main entrance. "They've all been worried sick about her. And they wanted me to tell you that you're both in their thoughts and prayers and all that other stuff."
Adrian smiled. "Tell them I said thank you," he said, getting out of the car. "Do you need to get back?"
"Actually, I do," he said. "Randy's holding down the fort for now, although he said he might go by the hospital later. I'll try to come by after my shift, too, but I want to make sure we nail this drunken putz to the wall."
"I'll see you later, then. Thanks for the ride, and for the help with the phone thing."
"Anytime, pal," Leland said, and drove off.
He made his way up to the ICU and checked in with the nurse. "No change," she told him. "The doctor will be in to check on her soon, and then he'll want to talk to you, but you can go sit with her once he's done."
Immensely cheered by this, Adrian made sure the desk had his new number, and settled into the waiting room to study the instruction manual for his phone. He wondered absently if his brother knew the author, and then realized with a jolt that he'd completely forgotten to call Ambrose and tell him what had happened.
He was still on the phone with his brother when Julie and the Davenports arrived. "Ambrose, Julie's here with her grandparents. I need to go."
"You'll call me tonight and tell me how she's doing, won't you?" Ambrose demanded anxiously.
"Of course I will. I'll talk to you later." He ended the call and rose to greet Julie.
"You look better," she declared, studying his face. "Were you able to get any sleep?"
"About four hours. How about you?"
"The same," she shrugged. "Hey, listen, I thought of something on the way over. I should call Cassandra and tell her what happened, but I don't have her number. Do you — "
"There's no need," he interrupted. "She came by my apartment this morning — I'd forgotten we had an appointment. I had her take Natalie's binder and all of the other wedding stuff, for safekeeping."
"Oh, good idea," she said approvingly.
"Who's Cassandra?" Peggy Davenport asked.
"Their wedding coordinator," Julie said.
Peggy's eyebrows lifted. "Natalie hired a wedding coordinator?"
"She's from the Four Seasons," Julie explained.
Her eyebrows lifted higher. "The Four Seasons? But how on earth could they afford — " She stopped, and had the grace to look abashed.
Adrian glanced at Bobby, who cleared his throat. "I gave them money for the wedding, Peggy," he confessed.
"Oh, I see," Peggy said, clearly taken aback.
There was a long, awkward silence, and then Peggy turned to her granddaughter. "Julie, be a dear and go get me a cup of coffee from the cafeteria, would you? I can't abide the swill from these vending contraptions. Bobby, maybe you could go with her?"
Julie and her grandfather exchanged a knowing glance. "Sure, Grandma," Julie said.
Once they were alone, Peggy took a deep breath. "Mr. Monk, I… I want to thank you for allowing me to be here," she said, lifting her chin to look him in the eye. "Given my recent behavior towards you and Natalie, you were well within your rights to keep me out. I wouldn't have blamed you if you had."
He nodded in acknowledgement and waited, sensing she had more to say.
"And I owe you an apology," she continued. "I was wrong to act the way I did, and I was wrong to say the things I did. I'm very sorry."
"I appreciate that, Mrs. Davenport — " he began.
"Peggy," she interrupted.
"Peggy," he repeated. "I accept your apology, as long as you're planning to apologize to Natalie as well."
She nodded, visibly moved. "As soon as I can," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "I thought I was going to lose her, and I — " She swallowed hard, and sighed, dropping down on the couch. "Well. I have to admit, that was easier than I thought it would be. I wasn't anticipating that you would forgive me quite so willingly. I expected to grovel quite a bit."
He sat down beside her. "Ordinarily, I might not have forgiven you so easily, but the truth is… I owe Natalie an apology, too."
"What for?" she asked.
"She was supposed to stay at my apartment last night, but we had a terrible argument," he said glumly, staring down at his clasped hands. "I let my temper get the best of me, said some awful things to her, and she left to spend the night at her house. So because I was an idiot, she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Oh dear," Peggy said softly.
He sighed. "At any rate, I can hardly refuse to forgive you for getting angry and saying things you regret when I'm in the exact same situation."
She patted his knee in a comforting gesture. "Mr. Monk — "
"Adrian," he corrected.
"Adrian," she amended, "I'm sure she'll be as gracious to you as you have been to me. She's a very forgiving person, you know."
He smiled at that, thinking of all the idiotic things he'd said and done to Natalie during their time together, as well as all of the times she'd forgiven him — even when he hadn't realized he'd needed forgiveness. "I know she is. But I'm prepared to grovel, just in case."
Julie came back just then, along with Bobby, both of them holding steaming cups in each hand. She brightened at the sight of them sitting together and smiling at one another. "I have coffee," she announced happily. "And hot chocolate for me, and chamomile tea for you, Mr. Monk."
He accepted it gratefully. "You know, Julie," he said, "considering I'm marrying your mother, I think you could start calling me by my first name."
She grinned saucily at him. "Perhaps 'Wicked Stepfather' would be more appropriate."
"A bit cumbersome, though, don't you think?" Bobby asked, chuckling.
"True," Julie said, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "Let's stick with Adrian."
