Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Fisher finishes his wings and calls over Eva. He gets the bill. “I’m going to take you back.” He pulls out cash from his wallet as relief and disappointment mixes in my stomach.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Please don’t be. I just had the best meal of my life with the best company. If it’s okay with you, I’ll hang around and maybe we can have a drink on the porch when Riley is settled.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to discover a trace of resentment or hostility in his face, but there’s nothing.
“Come on,” he says, shifting out of the booth. “Let’s get you back with your daughter.”
I stand, just as my phone buzzes.
Temperature is 103 now.
“Let’s go,” I say.
EIGHTEEN
Fisher
We pull into the driveway. “Shall I stay in the car?” I ask. I don’t want to make anything more stressful for Juniper than it already is. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have a daughter who isn’t well. She must be worried sick.
“No, come in. Mom will be preoccupied with Riley. You’re safe.”
“I’m not worried about chatting to your mom,” I say. I don’t want to abandon her but at the same time I don’t want to be in the way.
“Don’t go,” she says, and she squeezes my arm.
I kill the engine and she’s out of the car and through the door to her house so quickly, I barely have time to blink.
I follow her, wondering if I should just go back to the Club.
I take a seat on the porch and wait. It’s all I can do. Keep out of the way but be here. I can’t pretend to know the best thing to do for a child. I’ve never even considered having children before. Back in New York, the only person I have to take care of is myself. I can’t imagine the pressure Juniper must feel being responsible for Riley. I remember my mother being worried one time when I was sick. She and Dad both took me to the emergency room when I had stomach pain.
Huh. Maybe the signs that they weren’t happy had been there, but I hadn’t noticed because I was a kid and they weren’t yelling at each other.
“We need to get Dr. Picuri to come out,” I can hear Juniper say.
“You think we should bother him?” Juniper’s mom asks. “It’s a lot of money.”
If money’s an issue, I can cover a doctor’s visit. But is it inappropriate of me to offer?
I hear nothing for a few moments.
“He’s not answering. It just goes right to voicemail.”
“Maybe he’s at the hospital,” Mom says. “The signal always goes dead if he’s at the hospital.”
“Shit,” Juniper says.
I feel useless. As much as I want to stay out of the way, I want to be able to help.
I stand and open the screen door, poking my head in. “How’s Riley?” I ask.
Juniper’s face is ashen and they both look concerned. Juniper shakes her head. “Her temperature isn’t coming down and she has a headache. She never has headaches. I just want someone to check her over.”
“And the doctor?”
She shakes her head. “Not answering. And the drive to the hospital is over an hour.”
I pull out my phone. “Hang on,” I say, as I dial Byron’s cell. “I’m going to check with Byron. I’m sure he has medical people up at the Club.”
He answers on the second ring. “I thought you were out?”
“Riley’s sick. The town doctor isn’t available. Do you have anyone at the Club?” I ask.
“No. If she’s really sick, we have a helicopter on site if she needs to go to the hospital.”
I try to think. A medical evacuation seems like a big deal, but if Juniper’s worried, then we should consider it. She may push back because of the cost but if we don’t have any other options—
Then it hits me. Vivian’s husband, Beau, is a doctor. I’m just not sure what kind.
“Okay, I’ll let you know.” I hang up. I don’t think twice before I’m bringing up Vivian’s name and pressing the call button.
“What’s up, Fisher?” she answers, as if I call her at ten every night.
“I have a favor to ask you. The town doctor isn’t contactable and the daughter of a friend of mine is sick—”
I don’t even finish before she says, “Beau will be on his way. Tell me where he should go?”
I give her directions and then hang up the phone.
“My artist’s husband is a doctor. He’s on his way.”
Juniper bursts into tears. “Oh my god, thank you, Fisher!” I step forward to comfort her, but she steps back, out of reach. Then she straightens and dries her eyes. “Sorry, just relief. That’s all.”
“You don’t need to be sorry,” I say.
“I’m going to make us all coffee,” Juniper’s mom says. She takes my hand and squeezes. “I’m very pleased you’re here.”