Chapter 7
“Julian called me,” she said, dropping the suitcase and crossing the room in three strides. “At four a.m. Do you have any idea how I felt? He said, ‘Miranda’s been in an accident, and she asked me to tell you when the danger passed.’ When the danger passed. Miranda!”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“You didn’t want to worry me?” She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand, half laughing, half furious. “I would have sat in that chair for two days and read you the terms of service agreements out loud. Of course you were going to do it alone. You’re the person who finished a product launch with the flu and told everyone it was allergies.”
“It was allergies.”
“It was pneumonia,” Tessa said, and then she climbed carefully onto the edge of the bed, avoiding every wire, and put her forehead against mine. “I’m here. I’m staying. Don’t argue.”
I didn’t.
Two people had now shown up without being asked.
The calls began at eleven.
My phone lay face down on the tray, buzzing repeatedly. When I finally checked it, forty one missed calls filled the screen alongside dozens of messages.
Mostly Mom.
She begged me to call.
Said neither of them had slept.
Insisted they hadn’t known how serious it was.
Said Dad was beside himself.
Asked whether they could return and talk.
There were also photos of them outside the hospital early that morning. They’d apparently returned before dawn, only to be told I wasn’t receiving visitors.
I read everything once and set the phone aside.
“Do you want me to handle it?” Tessa asked.
“Not yet. I just need to breathe.”
At noon, Julian returned from the hallway with his phone and the expression I’d once seen before he dismantled a hostile acquisition offer.
“Trevor called the office at eight this morning,” he said.
Trevor, Lauren’s broad shouldered husband in his mid thirties, called himself “an entrepreneur” despite none of his businesses ever quite starting.
“What did he want?”
“He informed my receptionist that the changes to your estate were ‘clearly the result of a medically compromised state,’ that he intended to hire counsel, and that I should expect a lawsuit.”
Tessa snorted.
For the first time all day, I smiled.
“What did you say?”
“I invited him to have his attorney contact me.” Julian folded his hands. “Then I sent his attorney, whoever that turns out to be, a copy of Dr. Patel’s capacity assessment, the notary’s statement, and the witness affidavits, along with a polite note. Miranda, we did this properly. There is nothing to contest.”
“Good.”
“There’s one more thing.” He paused carefully. “When I asked the bank to close the emergency account this morning, they sent over the recent activity, as a courtesy.”
