Page 8 of Finding Home at Hearts Hotel

"We should ask the doctor," Anna said, echoing the exact piece of advice Darius had offered them earlier back at the lake.

"I think so too," Linda said, adjusting the strap of her handbag over her shoulder as they walked. "We know the hotel is a massive source of stress for Uncle George, but hearing about the legal battle and the fallout could also have a bad effect on his heart right now."

"Yes, agreed," Michael said with a quick, decisive nod of his head.

They saw the doctor standing just outside George's door, reviewing a chart with a nurse before signing off on a metal clipboard. He looked up as the three of them approached, closing the folder with a snap.

"Ah, there you are," Dr. Harrison said, offering them a professional, measured smile. “You can go in and see George now.”

"How is he doing, doctor?" Linda asked before anyone else could.

"He's getting better," Dr. Harrison answered, his eyes moving between them. “We just need to keep his stress levels as low as possible.”

"That is why we need to ask you something important before we go in," Michael told the doctor.

"Sure, what is it?" Dr. Harrison looked at Michael questioningly.

"Our uncle has spent the last year under an enormous amount of stress regarding Hearts Hotel," Michael explained, keeping his tone careful. "The legal trouble with the acquisition has finally been sorted out today, and the town council is throwing out the bad filings early next week. We want to tell him the good news, but we're worried about the shock. Do you think he's strong enough to hear it, or will it raise his blood pressure too much?"

Dr. Harrison considered the question for a moment, his gaze shifting thoughtfully toward the door to George’s room before returning to them.

"I'm glad you asked instead of just walking in and dropping the news," Dr. Harrison said, shaking his head slightly. "Right now, his heart rhythm is stabilizing, but he is still very fragile. Complete surprises, even good ones, could potentially cause a sudden spike in adrenaline and blood pressure that we want to avoid at this stage."

"So we shouldn't tell him tonight?" Linda asked, feeling a slight drop of disappointment in her chest for Uncle George's sake.

"Not all at once, and not in detail," Dr. Harrison advised, stepping closer to give them professional guidance. "You can mention that things are moving in a positive direction with the property, keep it vague, and gauge his reaction. But leave the full breakdown of the legal filings and the corporate battle for another few days until he's completely off the cardiac monitor."

"That makes sense," Anna murmured, looking through the glass window into the still hospital room where Uncle George lay resting against the pillows.

"We'll keep it light," Michael promised, tapping the doctor's forearm gratefully. "Thank you, Doctor."

The doctor stepped away, walking down the passage, and as they approached George’s room door, a nurse came out.

“I’m sorry, only two at a time,” the nurse instructed.

Anna stopped near the door frame as Linda and Michael reached for the handle, stepping back to give them room.

"I'll hang back out here," Anna said, offering a small, encouraging nod. "The nurse was clear that he can only handle two visitors at a time right now. You two go in first."

"Thanks, Anna," Linda murmured, giving Anna’s arm a gentle squeeze before following Michael into the room.

The heavy wooden door clicked shut behind them, sealing out the hum of the corridor. Uncle George was sitting slightly propped up against a stack of white hospital pillows. His face was still pale, and his large frame looked unnaturally small beneath the blankets, but his eyes were clear and focused as he looked up.

"Hello, you two," George croaked, his voice raspy from days of oxygen therapy, though a faint, recognizable spark of his usual stubborn humor touched his lips.

"Hello, Uncle George," Linda said, rushing over to the side of the bed to take his calloused hand in hers and kiss his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got run over by a delivery truck," George grunted, though his fingers tightened reassuringly over hers. He looked past her shoulder toward Michael. "Where are the kids? I feel like I haven’t seen them in years."

"They're probably back at the house now," Michael explained, stepping up to the opposite side of the bed and resting a hand on his uncle's shoulder. "The ICU rules were strict, but now that you're in the step-down unit, we promise to bring them before the festival dance tomorrow night."

"Good," George mumbled, leaning his head back against the pillow with a heavy sigh. "It gets too quiet in this place. A man starts losing his mind just listening to those monitors tick all day." He paused, his gaze shifting toward the window where the golden orange twilight was fading into dusk. "Thank goodness for Anna, who has been at my bedside these past few days."

"I see you and Anna are getting along again," Linda said, smiling down at him.

“Mmm,” was all George said in response to Linda’s light probing of the state of his and Anna’s renewed relationship. Changing the subject, he let out a low, disgruntled noise in his throat. "I can’t believe I'm missing the Lake Games this year.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I haven’t missed a game for forty years."

“I know, Uncle George,” Linda sighed and fluffed a pillow behind him. His changing the subject away from Anna did not go unnoticed by Linda. “But there is always next year.”