Page 108 of Fierce

Business as Usual

On Saturday, Dr. Feingold told Hope that Karen would be released the next day.

“She’s doing well,” he said. “It’s better for her to be out of the hospital, as long as she’s being cared for. Somebody needs to be with her all the time for the first week. Are you good with that?”

“Yes,” Hope said. “Yes. I’ll be there.”

“I’m guessing she shouldn’t walk up four flights of stairs,” I put in. “And that it’d be better if she could go outside, take a walk in the park, get a bit of exercise.”

The nurses had had Karen up as soon as possible, had had her doing laps around the corridors with Hope by her side, so I was reasonably sure that was important. Bringing it up now was dirty play, and I knew it, but I needed ammunition.

“Four flights wouldn’t be my preference, no,” Dr. Feingold said. “And, yes. She needs to move.”

“Oh,” Hope said, looking so tired again. I put an arm around her and knew I needed to make that look go away. The long night in the waiting room, then three more on the extra bed in Karen’s room, waking every time the nurses came in to check on her sister. And who knew how many nights before that, sharing Karen’s bed, waking every time her sister did, and trying to work during the day. If she’d been a shell before, she was less than that now. I could do something about that, and I was going to.

“I’ve got a plan for that,” I said. “Got a better place for them to stay, where Karen can get out easily, can have everything taken care of. Only a mile away from the hospital,” I added hastily, “and a car ready to bring them straight back again. Just in case. For, what, a week?”

“A week would be good,” Dr. Feingold said while Hope was still opening her mouth. “And is that place ready for them now?”

“Yeh,” I said. “Since you ask.”

I’d known he’d ask, actually. As I’d had a bit of a chat about it with him beforehand.

“Then, Hope, I suggest you check it out tonight,” he said smoothly. “Karen’s in good hands here, but starting tomorrow, you’re going to be taking care of her. And frankly, I’m a little worried about you being able to do that.”

“Me?” She straightened with an obvious effort. “I’m fine. Of course I’m fine. And I can’t leave her. What if—”

“That’s why we have these things called nurses,” Dr. Feingold said. “And you know, I’ve got about, oh, ten years of medical training, as I recall, and a whole lot more years of practice that tell me you’re not fine. Sleep deprivation’s a dangerous thing. If I’m going to release my patient to you, you’re going to have to leave here and sleep first. Consider it a medical directive.”

“You know.” We all turned, because that was Karen, her speech still slow and a little slurred from the drugs. “I’m alive over here. I’ve got an opinion.”

“Well, yes, you are,” Dr. Feingold said. “And what is it?”

“That Hope needs to go,” Karen said. “How’m I supposed to watch TV if I can’t sleep when I know I’ll be waking her up? I sleep with her every single night as it is. Could I get a break?”

Hope’s mouth was open, but I was grinning, and so was Dr. Feingold. I bent over and gave Karen a gentle kiss on the cheek, avoiding jostling her heavily bandaged head. “Sweetheart,” I told her, “I’m going to give you a break. I’m going to take your sister out of here until tomorrow morning. And then I’m going to give you your very own bedroom, and a bathroom as well. For a week, and longer than that, if I get my way.”

“Cool,” Karen said. “I told Hope she should grab you.”

Hope was looking as if she wanted to say something and couldn’t think what, and Dr. Feingold was frankly laughing.

“You know,” he said, “I actually have other patients. So as much as I’d like to hang around at this interesting juncture, I’m going to have to tear myself away. You—” he told Hope. “You’re out of here, and that’s an order. You’re leaving the premises and sleeping tonight, or I’m hanging onto your sister. Come back tomorrow and take Karen someplace where she doesn’t have to walk up four flights of stairs, and where she has her own bed and her own bathroom. That one’s not an order. It’s just a strong suggestion.” He turned to Karen. “And as for you, young lady?” He winked at her. “Glad to see I kept that brain of yours intact.”

When Charles pulled the car up outside the Plaza, Hope blinked.

“Oh,” she said, looking at the hotel. She’d nearly fallen asleep in the car, was in some sort of zombie state where she seemed to be processing everything said to her a half-second later. “I thought it was your apartment.”

“I thought—” I cleared my throat. “That that might not be the best.” That it might be too much of a commitment, I didn’t say. “And this is closer to the hospital. Especially as I’ll be gone.”

Because I was leaving for Milan. There was no choice. I’d had the Italian knitwear acquisition in the works for six months, and the shareholders’ meeting had been scheduled for longer than that. Not going wasn’t an option, and it wasn’t going to be short. I wasn’t going to get out of there in less than a week. Takeovers took time.

I handed her two keycards for the room, and two more cards with Charles’s cell. Two, in case she lost one. “The Royal Terrace Suite,” I told her. “Twentieth floor. And Charles will take you to the hospital in the morning. That’s his number. D’you have that?”

“Royal...” She trailed off. “Twentieth floor. Yeah.”

What I wanted to do was go up there with her, see her settled, and hold her while she fell asleep, the way I had that final night in San Francisco. That night when I’d thought I’d been missing out on something, and had been so wrong. But I’d delayed as long as I could, and time had run out. I had a meeting at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, and I needed to leave now.

I shoved the car door open, and Charles was there with Hope’s bag. I helped her out, looked at the bellman who’d appeared as well, and said, “Please take the lady up to her room. The Royal Terrace Suite.”

“I can—” Hope said.

“I’m sure you can,” I told her, even though I wasn’t sure at all. “But he’s going to do it anyway.” I passed him a fifty and said, “Whatever she needs.”

“Yes, sir.” He took the bag from Charles, and that was sorted.

Hope looked up at me. “Good luck,” she said. “And thank you.” And I took her in my arms, held her for just a moment and felt her lean into me, and, somehow, let her go.

So, yeh. I left with too many things left unsaid, too many promises left unspoken. But that was business. And that was me.