Page 95 of Summers at the Saint
Resolving to find out, she dressed quickly. Lola was waiting expectantly at the door, whipping her tail back and forth in anticipation of a walk.
“All right,” she relented, grabbing her leash. “Just a quickie. Around the block and back.”
While they walked she scanned her phone for missed calls or important emails. They wereallimportant—and of varying degrees of urgency.
It could all wait, she decided. There was a soft breeze in the air and it ruffled the Spanish moss hanging from the branches of the nearest live oak as she turned the corner onto a street that faced the river.
Lola stopped short and sat on her haunches, quivering with excitement. She was staring at a huge blue heron casually pecking at something among the exposed oyster shells on the near side of the riverbank.
The dachshund gave a sharp yip and the heron responded with an unconcerned “whatever” expression before it rose, flapping its wings and flying off to the other side of the bank, where there were no annoying small dogs.
The breeze picked up suddenly and dark clouds scudded across the sky, blocking out the sun. Now fat raindrops dimpled the glasslike river surface.
“C’mon, Lo,” she said, leaning down to scoop up the dog. “Let’s make a run for home.”
They made it back to the house just as the skies opened up. She toweled off the dog, refilled her water bowl, and tossed her a guilt cookie, then changed into what she thought of as her work uniform—slim-fitting pants, a silk tee, and a linen blazer. She fastened pearl studs in her ears, and at the last minute added a thin gold chain with a dangling gold heart charm. It had been a tenth- anniversary gift from Hoke.
She was sitting in the driveway of her father-in-law’s cottage, waiting for the rain to subside, but suddenly, Alberta was standing in the doorway, waving to beckon her inside.
“He’s real bad today,” Alberta told her as soon as she was inside the house.
“How bad?” Traci gazed down the hallway toward Fred’s room.
“Blood pressure’s down. He won’t eat. Just staring at the ceiling.”
“What does the doctor say?”
“Hisolddoctor told me to call his new doctor, and the new doctor’s office says he’s doing rounds at the hospital. The PA told me to up his anxiety meds. And the morphine drip.”
“Did you do that?”
Alberta crossed her arms over her bony chest. “No, ma’am. He don’t want nothin’ else. He’s made it clear. He’s ready to go.”
“Have you talked to Ric?”
Alberta’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “Tried calling him, left a voice mail, but his assistant called back and said he’s not available. At a meeting up in Savannah.”
“What about Madelyn?”
“That heifer ain’t been here in months,” Alberta said.
“Okay,” Traci said. “Let me go see about him.”
She tried not to look shocked at how dramatically the old man had diminished in just over a week. His eyes were sunken into his head and they followed Traci’s movements when she entered the room.
“Hey there, Fred,” she said, but there was no reaction from the old man.
Alberta stood watchfully in the doorway.
“Why is his television turned off?” Traci asked.
“Mr. Ric told me to leave it off because of you-know-who,” the caregiver said.
Traci found the remote control on top of a dresser crowded with medical supplies and clicked it on.
“It’s the only damn thing he can enjoy,” she announced. “Let’s leave it on, and you can tell Ric I overruled you, if he asks.”
“All right then,” Alberta agreed.
