An Imperfect Process (42 page)

After a few more comments, including thanks to her former colleagues at Crouse, Resnick, she said, "Now it's time for the grand unveiling. Behind this curtain is a really splendid artwork created by my mother, Callie Covington, one of the finest fabric artists in America. Callie, where are you?"

She spotted her mother with Loren, both of them positioned within easy reach of the smoked salmon and miniature spanakopita. Raising her glass of chardonnay, she continued, "I'd like to make a toast to my mother, who not only gave me artwork and red hair, but the rabble-rouser streak that I hope to indulge in my new firm. Thanks for everything, Callie." She was pleased to see her mother actually blush.

As others raised their glasses, Val pulled the cord that released the covering on the wall hanging. There were gasps as people saw the dramatic colors and images Callie had used in her visual meditation on the law. If she didn't get more work out of this, Val would eat the hanging herself,
sans
ketchup.

She had intended a thank you toast to her father as well, but he wasn't here yet, so she finished with, "Here's to justice and plenty of billable hours!"

Amidst more laughter, she descended from the desk with the helping hand of Donald Crouse. "Quite a party, Val," he said warmly. "You're off to a grand start. Taking on this death penalty case has also given you plenty of good publicity."

"That's not why I'm doing it."

"I know, but that doesn't mean it won't help your new practice." Seeing a friend across the room he moved on, giving Val a chance to catch her breath. Playing hostess was hard work.

The guest list included many former colleagues and people she had worked with, as well as a good dash of personal friends. Kate Corsi, who had sent her to Rob, was here with her husband and admiring the church restoration, while their mutual friend Laurel had come down from New York and was now taking pictures of the party.

The nuts and bolts of the open house were being handled by Kendra, who had chosen the caterers and menu and was now quietly directing events. She was spectacular in a fuchsia suit that made her look like the star of a television lawyer show. Even the beads braided into her hair harmonized with the suit. Val made a mental note to ask Laurel to e-mail the best pictures of Kendra so Daniel could see them.

Only four more days till the execution date.

Kendra appeared at her side. "I just got a phone call from your father. He sent his apologies. Something came up, and he can't make it down this evening."

"Why am I not surprised?" Val managed a brittle laugh. "Thanks, Kendra."

As she moved away, she told herself it was ridiculous to feel such disappointment when she had known all along this might happen. Sure, Brad was a busy man, but most of the people in this room were equally busy. Laurel had traveled down from New York even though she was a busy art director in the middle of a major advertising campaign.

The plain truth was that an illegitimate daughter simply wasn't that high on Brad Westerfield's priority list. If she needed a bone marrow transplant and her father could provide a match, she didn't doubt that he would find the time to donate the marrow, but launching a new business wasn't as important, even if Val was his only lawyer daughter.

Though it was a good party, she found herself most aware of the people who were missing. Her father. Bill Costain. Rob. He had been invited, but declined on the grounds that it would be stressful for both of them. Plus, she suspected, he really didn't want to be in a crowd of lawyers who knew who Robert Smith Gabriel was. He was right not to come, but she would have given all the crab balls and salmon to see him here. Their unplanned tryst the night before had only made her want him more. With an internal sigh, she returned to hostessing.

Rachel arrived as the party started to wind down. "Sorry I'm late, Val. A minor crisis just before I was ready to leave the hospital."

"Not a problem. Stick around after everyone else leaves, and we can plan Kate's shower over the leftovers." Val waved Rachel over to Kate Corsi and her husband Donovan, who were chatting with Laurel. The only member of the Circle of Friends missing was Rainey, and she would have flown in from New Mexico if she and her husband weren't acting in a play in Santa Fe this weekend. Whereas Val's own father...

Val mentally slapped herself. Callie had always been firm that self-pity was one of the ugliest of emotions. Brad might not be the most devoted of fathers, but he had kept in touch with her and paid child support regularly, which is more than many men would have done. And, thank God, he hadn't orphaned her with a crazed murder-suicide.

The thought put matters into perspective. Val moved to the door so she could say good-bye to people as they left. Laurel approached and gave her a hug. "Thanks for inviting me, Val. I like being able to envision your office when we chat." She cast her artist's eye around the church. "This is a great place. Callie's hanging is amazing."

"Any chance of getting together before you go back to New York?"

"Sorry, no, I'm taking the train back tonight."

"It was so good to see you here." Val returned the hug, thinking how well New York suited her old friend. Laurel had been a thin, dark, rather angular girl whose wit and talent were hidden behind shyness. Since then, she had learned how to transform her slim frame and aquiline features into a striking stylishness that turned heads anywhere. "We don't see enough of each other. E-mail and phone calls aren't the same."

Laurel grinned. "You know where the train station is."

"Okay, when both our current projects are done, I'll be up for a weekend. Think about what show we should see." After asking Laurel for the Kendra pictures, Val became busy with other good-byes. The last guest, except for Rachel, was gone by 8:30.

As Val collapsed in a chair, Kendra said, "Why don't you take Rachel back to your house? I can supervise the cleaning and lock up."

Tempted, Val scanned the clutter and the caterers who were busily dealing with it. "You don't mind? You must be as tired as I am."

"Not hardly. I didn't have to play hostess all night like you did. Looking effortlessly successful is hard work." With a cheerful smile, Kendra sent Val and Rachel on their way with a large bag of leftovers.

As soon as Val got home, she kicked off her high heels and headed to the bedroom to change. By the time Rachel rang the bell two minutes later, she was in a long knit skirt and cotton tunic. "I'm glad that's over. Want any of this food?"

"Please. I never did get around to lunch today." Rachel took a small plate and began choosing some of the healthier tidbits. "When we finish laying plans for Kate's shower, have you got time to kick something around with me? I'm considering whether to accept a job offer here in Baltimore."

"There's always time to discuss the pros and cons of a job change." Val popped Rachel's food in the microwave, then poured two glasses of chardonnay. "As to Kate's shower—shall we make our guests play corny party games that make people roll their eyes, but they enjoy them anyhow?"

Rachel laughed, and they settled down to serious party planning. They were about to start discussing Rachel's job offer when Val's cell phone rang from where she had set it on the kitchen counter. She groaned. "Do I have to answer that?"

"No." Rachel chose a miniature éclair from the dessert selection. "But how many people have your cell phone number?"

"Not many." Maybe it was Rob and he wanted to get together tonight, or at least ask her how the open house had gone. That was worth crossing the room for. She removed Damocles from her lap and picked up the call. "Hello?"

"V... Val...?" The caller was sobbing uncontrollably. "It's me."

"Lyssie?" Val's fatigue vanished. "What's wrong?"

"Gramma. She... she...."

"Take it easy, honey. Breathe slowly, and tell me what's happening."

Lyssie gulped. "Gramma fell in the kitchen and I can't get her to wake up. Her breathing is horrible and loud."

"Your grandmother has collapsed and is breathing strangely." Val repeated the words so Rachel could hear. "We need to call 911." She glanced at Rachel, who nodded. "Can you do that, or should I?'

"I already did." Lyssie sounded steadier.

"Then they'll be there any minute. They'll take her to Sinai since that's the hospital nearest you. I'm not sure they'll let you ride in the ambulance. If they're concerned about leaving you in the house alone, tell them that your big sister is on the way. I'll leave as soon as you and I hang up, and we'll go to the hospital."

"Okay." A brief pause, then Lyssie said, "The ambulance is stopping outside."

Rachel said, "I'll go directly to the Sinai ER so I'll know what's going on when you and Lyssie arrive."

Val nodded gratefully. "God bless 911. I'll see you in about fifteen minutes, Lyssie. If the EMTs take you in the ambulance, call and let me know so I can meet you there. I'll have the cell phone with me in the car."

"Okay," Lyssie said again.

"G'bye, honey. Hang on—I'll be with you soon." Val ended the call. "You're okay with going to the hospital, Rachel?"

"I didn't have anything planned for tomorrow except sleeping late." Rachel set the last of her meal aside and stood. "Besides, hospitals to me are like water to a fish."

"Thanks. For what it's worth, I've thought Louise looked unwell and might be a candidate for diabetes."

Rachel frowned. "If she's an undiagnosed diabetic, that could mean heart damage. From what Lyssie said, she might be in congestive heart failure. A good thing Lyssie was right there and thinking clearly. See you at Sinai."

As Rachel left, Val grabbed a tote bag and tossed in a couple of paperback books that might suit her and Lyssie, a water bottle, and some high-energy health bars in case someone needed a boost later in the night. Then she took off, flirting with a speeding ticket as she zoomed across Northern Parkway and sent urgent prayers toward Louise.

As soon as she parked, Lyssie bolted out the front door. They met mid-sidewalk when the girl hurled herself into Val's arms, weeping. Val hugged her, saying, "Don't worry, honey, I'm here and everything will be all right." The words of comfort were pure instinct.

"It was awful, Val," Lyssie gasped. "I didn't know what to do. She... she looked like she was dying."

"You knew exactly what to do, honey. You called 911 so she's getting the treatment she needs. You may have saved her life. Now let's go inside and get you a sweater. Hospitals can be chilly."

Lyssie took her glasses off and wiped them with the hem of her T-shirt as they returned to the row house. "Thanks... thanks for coming, Val."

"I promised I'd be here if you needed me, Lyssie." As they entered the house, Val asked, "Anything hot on the stove? Any food to go in the fridge? Has the cat been fed? Also, do you know anything about your grandmother's insurance?"

"Gramma's been to Sinai before so she should be in the computer. I'll check that everything else is safe." As Lyssie went to work, Val realized that this is what mothers did. Keep track of the details. Anticipate what might happen and try to prepare. Take care of everyone and everything. She could do this. In fact, it seemed to come naturally.

When Lyssie was done, Val added the girl's sweater to the tote and they drove the short distance to the hospital. When they entered the ER, Rachel met them just inside the door. After Val made the introductions, Lyssie gravely offered her hand. "Is my grandmother going to die?"

Not blinking at the girl's bluntness, Rachel shook hands. "I don't know because I'm not her doctor, but calling 911 got her to the hospital quickly, which is a big plus. She arrived in respiratory failure, which means breathing problems. The preliminary diagnosis is a pulmonary embolism with maybe some complications."

"I want to see her."

"This way." Rachel led them through swinging doors into the working area. The evening seemed to be quiet, though Val guessed there might be a Friday night rush later.

Louise Armstrong was in a curtained area connected to an intimidating array of tubes and monitors. A small, dark-haired physician standing beside the bed glanced up. Her ID badge had flipped so the name couldn't be read, but Kumar was embroidered above her pocket. "Is this the family, Dr. Hamilton?" she asked with a faint Asian accent.

After Rachel made the introductions, Lyssie asked again, "Is my grandmother going to die, Dr. Kumar?" Despite her size and the wild curls pulled into a girlish scrunchy, her small face showed adult seriousness.

"I'm waiting for the test results," Dr. Kumar said. "We'll know more then."

"I told the EMTs about her diabetes. Is that why she collapsed?"

"That might be part of it—the blood tests will tell us more." The doctor frowned. "I pulled up Mrs. Armstrong's records. Apparently she hasn't been taking her medications. Since she has high blood pressure as well as diabetes, that's dangerous. Do you know anything about that?"

Lyssie looked ready to hiss. "Medicaid will only pay for her medicines some of the time. Gramma is on disability, so we're too rich for full coverage." The irony in her voice could have curdled cream.

Val tried to imagine what it was like for a woman in poor health to raise an orphaned grandchild on disability. Appalled, she said, "Maryland Medicaid leaves people in need without their medicine half the time?"