Page 28 of The Roommate Problem
Chapter Nine
Monday afternoon, Mo headed to Porter’s Petals. She had a few things to check on for an upcoming wedding. She could have just emailed or called, but she also wanted to talk to Agatha about this selling and moving business. Surely, together the two of them could come up with a plan to convince August to stay and take over the shop.
She had a plan to invite Agatha out to lunch, away from August’s prying ears, but the shop appeared empty as she entered. Nothing greeting her, except for the sweet smell of flowers.
“August?” she called, glancing around the small shop. “Agatha?”
When no one answered, she moved around the front counter and glanced into the back. There was no door separating the back from the front, just a narrow hallway she knew led to a small storage room. She made her way down the hallway, pausing as she heard Agatha’s voice talking to someone. Since no one was responding, Mo assumed the woman was on the phone.
She was about to turn around and go back out front to give Agatha some privacy until she heard the old woman say something about surgery. Mo stopped dead in her tracks, heart jumping into her throat. Surgery? Agatha needed surgery? Why? For what? Why hadn’t Agatha told her?
Quickly, she hurried to the edge of the supply room, flattening herself against the wall just outside the slightly ajar door.
“Yes, my friend Patricia will be bringing me and driving me home,” Agatha’s voice drifted from the room. “Twelve hours before. I got it. Wait, does that include water, too?”
There was a slight pause before Agatha continued. “All right. Thank you, doctor.”
Mo blinked, surprised to find a few tears had welled up and leaked from her eyes. So silly. She wasn’t even sure anything was wrong with Agatha. Maybe another friend needed surgery, and Agatha and her friend Patricia were just coming along for support. Unlikely, but she could hold on to that false hope for as long as possible.
“Come on in, child,” Agatha’s voice came from the supply room. “I heard you the second you stepped on that old creaky floorboard. Been meaning to get that fixed for months now.”
Mo wiped her face with the back of her hand. Agatha might know she was eavesdropping, but she didn’t want to worry the poor woman with her tears. You weren’t supposed to worry sick people. Sucking in a fortifying breath, she shook her head. She didn’t know if Agatha was sick or not. Maybe she just needed a mole removed or something. Technically, that was referred to as surgery, right?
Stepping into the tiny supply room, she smiled brightly at her friend and pseudo-grandmother. “Hi, Agatha. How’s it going?”
One gray eyebrow arched. “How much did you hear?”
Her smile slipped, tears glossing her vision again, but she blinked them away. “What? Hear?”
Agatha laughed. “Child, you are a terrible liar, which is one of the things I love most about you.”
“I love you, too, Aggie.” She sniffed.
“Come here.”
Agatha opened her arms wide, and Mo immediately ran into them, welcoming the woman’s strong embrace. See, she was fine. No one who was deathly sick could hug this fiercely.
“I’m fine, Moira.”
“But I heard you say something about surgery.” Her voice was muffled, since she still had her face buried against Agatha’s shoulder.
“Oh, fiddlesticks. It’s nothing serious,” Agatha answered. “I’ve been having gallstones for a while now, and my diet change hasn’t worked to get rid of those nasty suckers, so my doctor said we’d just have to get rid of the whole gallbladder.”
Mo pulled away, staring at the wrinkled face she’d come to love and need so much over the past few years. “Gallbladder surgery?”
“It’s really a very simple and safe procedure.” Agatha turned to grab a spool of green ribbon from one of the shelves. “I’m even having the laparoscopic surgery that is less invasive.”
“But all surgery is risky.” She’d never had any type of surgery, but her oldest brother had to have his appendix out as a teen, and a small complication from the surgery had him stuck in the hospital for months, they almost lost him at one point.
“Yes, but Dr. Long says I’m in excellent health otherwise, and the surgery should go off without a hitch. Now, a complication might arise…” Agatha hesitated. “But the hospital has my care directive should anything go wrong.”
Care directive? Like a living will? A DNR? Mo knew how a “simple procedure” could turn into anything but. How could Agatha be so blasé about this?
“Agatha, are you sure—”
“Oh, you, shush.” A wrinkled hand came out to pat Mo’s cheek. “Dr. Long is one of the best surgeons in Denver. I’m not worried at all.”
She might not be, but Mo was. And she’d bet someone else was, too. “What does August think about all this?”
