Drawing Close: The Fourth Novel in the Rosemont Series (14 page)

Chapter 30

Maggie was putting away leftovers later
that week while John was washing the skillet they’d used to make dinner when
Gordon Mortimer called.

“Mayor Martin, I’ve arranged the sale, and I think
you’ll be pleased,” he announced.

Maggie remained silent, waiting for him to
continue.

“Sotheby’s will auction your items and recommends
that we place all of them, except the Martin-Guillaume Biennais, in a London
auction to be held October twenty-fourth.”

Maggie released the breath she had been holding.
The timing would work. She’d read on the auctioneer’s website that payments
were made for sold items thirty-five days after the sale, provided that the
bidder actually paid for the item. If everything sold, she’d have the money she
needed in time.

“Why won’t the Martin-Guillaume Biennais be part
of the London sale?” she asked.

“The experts at Sotheby’s—and they are truly
experts, Mayor Martin; no one knows more about the value of silver and how to
sell it than the team at Sotheby’s—feel that the Martin-Guillaume
Biennais will bring three times as much at a Paris sale in March.”

Maggie swallowed hard. If she were going to sell
it, she wanted to get as much as possible for it. “What do they think I’ll get
without selling the Martin-Guillaume Biennais?” she asked.

“On the low end, after commissions, five hundred
thousand in U.S. dollars. On the best day, you might see one million five
hundred. After commissions are paid.”

“And with the Martin-Guillaume Biennais at the
London auction?”

Gordon Mortimer paused, as if he couldn’t bear to
contemplate that she might insist on liquidating the most valuable items in her
collection in a less than optimal way. “They feel certain that it will bring at
least eight hundred thousand in London. In Paris, after they’ve had more time
to promote it, they feel confident it will bring three times that amount.”

Maggie coughed.

“You don’t have to give me an answer tonight. I’m
assuming you want to go through with the London auction for the bulk of it?”

“Yes. That’s certain.”

“Good. I’ll email you the contracts tonight. Look
them over carefully, and call me with any questions. I’ll be up late tonight
and early tomorrow morning. We’ll need to move quickly. I’m planning a trip to
Westbury early next week. I’ll oversee the packing and shipment to London.
That’s part of the service I provide.”

“I’m very grateful to you for that, Mr. Mortimer.
I wouldn’t know how to insure and send things this valuable.”

“Why don’t you think about the Martin-Guillaume
Biennais overnight? Talk to your husband or your children about it. I know I’ve
said this before, but I reiterate: my advice is to wait and sell it in Paris.”

Maggie respected his opinion, but he didn’t have
all the facts. “I’ll discuss this with my husband. You’ll have my answer in the
morning.”

John was drying the final pan when she placed her
phone on the counter and turned to him.

“The distinguished appraiser, I take it?”

Maggie nodded. Bubbles jumped onto the countertop,
and Maggie drew the cat to her chest, drawing comfort from the familiar rumble
that followed as Maggie stroked her side.

“By the look on your face, I’m guessing he didn’t
have good news?”

“It’s not that. He’s got the silver placed in an
auction in London on October twenty-fourth.”

“That’s good.” John knew the timeline Maggie had
constructed as well as she did. Her lawyer had responded to Simon Wilkens’
demand letter and begun the process of authenticating the facts and documents
presented by Wilkens. He’d reported last week that his investigation had
verified everything. He could only forestall a lawsuit until the end of the
year. He advised Maggie to have her money together by early December if she
wanted to avoid being sued. “Why the long face, then?”

“Mortimer recommended selling all but the
Martin-Guillaume Biennais at the London auction. He thinks we should wait to
sell it in Paris in March. It’ll bring three times the price in Paris. He said
that we should expect to receive between five hundred thousand dollars and a
million and a half for the stuff he recommends we sell in London.”

Maggie faced John and tears rimmed her eyes. “So
even on its best day, it won’t be enough. We’ll need at least two million three
to buy out Frank.”

“Surely the Martin-Guillaume Biennais would bring
enough in London to give us the two million three?”

Maggie nodded. “Yes, but isn’t that just being
foolish? How can we afford to throw away that much money—possibly
millions—just to hang onto Rosemont? Come on, John. You have to think
that’s crazy.”

John took her in his arms. “I think it would be
crazy not to do everything we can to hang onto this place. You love it, and you
know it. The house is happy with us living here, too.”

Maggie nodded against his shoulder.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t think this house has
feelings. I know you too well, Mrs. Allen. I’ve heard you come in from one of
your thrift store excursions, whispering to Rosemont that you’ve bought it a
present.”

Maggie laughed. “And you don’t think I’m kooky?”

“I think you’re kooky, all right, but it’s part of
your charm. Can you imagine how horrified Rosemont would be if Frank Haynes
were living here? There’d be no more Easter carnivals or Christmas high teas;
impromptu pizza parties or Thanksgiving dinners with friends. You can’t
possibly think of letting that happen to Rosemont.”

“I knew you’d help me see reason,” she said.

“We’re not counting on the Martin-Guillaume
Biennais for our retirement. We didn’t even know we had it or what it was until
recently. May as well use it for something we really want, and that’s
Rosemont.”

Maggie stood on tiptoes and kissed him.

“Now go call that man and set him straight. We’re
selling the Martin-Guillaume Biennais in London on October twenty-fourth.”

Chapter 31

Loretta Nash flipped through a
magazine while Nicole dozed in her hospital bed after her latest dialysis
treatment. She tossed the magazine onto a stack on the table in the recovery
area and stood to stretch her legs. If she sat watching her child’s discomfort
for one more minute she would scream. She headed toward the water fountain when
she saw a familiar couple at the end of the hallway. David Wheeler and Dodger
turned in her direction as she was raising her hand to wave to them.

“David,” Loretta called. She motioned him toward
her. “I’m Loretta Nash. I met you when you came to Haynes Enterprises. I’m Mr.
Haynes’ assistant.”

David nodded in recognition.

“You and Dodger have met my daughter Nicole in
this hospital before. She loves Dodger.” Loretta bent to pet the dog standing
obediently at his master’s side. “And she’s here now. Right over there, in that
room,” she said, pointing. “She’s not feeling too well. I think a visit from
Dodger might be just what she needs. Would you have time to go see her?”

David was about to tell her that they were done
for the day and on their way home, but the anxiety in her eyes made him pause. “Sure,”
he said. “We’d love to—wouldn’t we, boy?”

Loretta’s smile was all the confirmation he
needed. David and Dodger followed Loretta as she retraced her steps to Nicole’s
bedside.

“Look who’s here,” Loretta said, slipping her arm
under Nicole’s shoulders and propping her into a sitting position.

Nicole’s eyelids fluttered, and she rubbed her
eyes with her fists.

David positioned Dodger next to Nicole’s bed. “Do
you remember Dodger?” he asked the little girl. “He had a good time with you
before.”

She turned her head in David’s direction and
looked at the dog.

“Would you like to pet him?” David asked.

Nicole stared at Dodger, then slowly shook her
head no.

“Sure you would,” Loretta said. She took Nicole’s
hand in hers and reached for Dodger.

David shifted from one foot to the other. “We can
come back another time,” he said as a nurse approached.

“The doctors would like to see you, Ms. Nash,” the
nurse said.

“Now?” Loretta asked.

The nurse nodded. “I’ll take you to them and come
back to check on Nicole.”

“Mommy will be right back.” Loretta gently placed
Nicole’s hand under the blanket.

“Would you like Dodger to stay with you?” the
nurse asked.

Again, Nicole shook her head no.

“We’d better go. We’ll see you when you’re feeling
better,” David pulled on Dodger’s leash and led him away.

“Thank you for trying.” Loretta called after them.
She turned to the nurse. “Why do they want to meet with me?” Her voice sounded
shrill, even to her own ears.

“Try not to worry, Ms. Nash. You’ve got the best
team of doctors in the state. If my child were sick, these are the doctors I
would choose.” The nurse led her to a room at the end of a long hallway. She opened
the door and motioned Loretta to step inside. Nicole’s doctor and two others
she didn’t recognize were seated at a round conference table. Nicole’s doctor
rose.

“Come in, Ms. Nash,” he said and extended his arm
toward the chair next to him. Loretta clutched her purse to her body and
tripped on the leg of a chair as she moved it aside to sit down. She turned to
him, her fear palpable.

“I don’t want you to be alarmed,” he said kindly.
“Nothing has drastically changed with Nicole’s condition.” Loretta released the
breath she had been holding. “I’ve been concerned that she hasn’t responded to
the medicines we’ve prescribed and her kidneys aren’t working well enough to
allow her to go untreated. At this point, she’ll need to be on weekly
dialysis.” He looked to his colleagues seated with him at the table and they
nodded their agreement.

“I asked the other doctors in the department to
review Nicole’s records and give me their recommendations. We all came to the
same conclusion.” He faced Loretta. “We think you should place Nicole on the
transplant list.”

Loretta gasped and flattened herself against the
back of her chair. “Transplant,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Surely it’s
not that bad? Can’t we keep trying medication and dialysis?”

“Yes, of course we can,” the doctor replied. “But
transplants are frequently a better option for children. They allow the child
to live a more normal life. Weekly dialysis is a big disruption in a child’s
schedule. And the outcome for a transplant patient—particularly a
child—is better the earlier it’s done.”

Loretta gulped air. “Aren’t transplants risky?
Don’t most people die within a few years?”

“Kidney transplants have been done for more than
sixty years and are highly successful. We expect Nicole to make a full
recovery. You’d have to keep a close eye on her after the surgery, and she’d be
on immunosuppressants for the rest of her life to prevent her body from
rejecting the transplanted kidney. She’d have to be careful not to damage it
playing sports. But many people live long and healthy lives after a
transplant.”

Loretta rested her elbows on the table and placed
her head in her hands. “This is a lot to take in.”

The doctor to her right leaned toward her. “You
don’t need to decide today. We want you to start considering this.”

She turned to him. “When would this happen?”

“We wouldn’t do the transplant here. You’d have to
go to a transplant hospital to be evaluated. If they agree that Nicole is a
good candidate, they would place her on the national list for a kidney
donation.”

“So we’d have time?”

“Yes. This can be a lengthy process. That’s why we
thought you should get started now.”

“Won’t her body destroy the new kidney?”

“Not in her case. A birth defect is causing them
to fail. That won’t happen with the transplanted kidney.”

“Is there a transplant hospital near here?”

“One of the best for pediatric patients is at
Indiana University,” her doctor replied. “We can refer you to the doctors
there.”

Loretta nodded slowly, forcing herself to think.
“All right, if that’s what you want me to do.”

“We think it’s in Nicole’s best interest,” he
replied.

“How long does it take to get a kidney once she’s
on the list?” Loretta asked.

“That can vary. There are two types of transplant
donors,” one of the other doctors answered. “Living and nonliving. Kidneys are
unusual because a person can live with only one. Success rates are better with
living donations.”

Loretta faced him. “Who can be a live donor? Since
she’s a child, does it have to be a child?”

“That’s a good question,” he said. “Anyone can be
a donor if they’re healthy and have the same blood type and other compatible
tissue characteristics. The best matches come from close relatives.”

“So the kidney can come from an adult? Won’t it be
too big?”

“Adults can donate to children. The kidney is
bigger, but we make room.”

“I don’t have the same blood type as Nicole,” she
said sadly.

“There’s always the national donor list,” the
doctor reminded her. “What about her father?”

“He’s dead,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s too bad that her siblings aren’t older,” her
doctor observed.

Loretta stared past him. Maybe now was the time to
learn the answer to the question that had plagued her for years: Was Paul
Martin really Nicole’s father? More importantly, were Susan and Mike Martin
related to Nicole?

“Would you like us to make the referral to the
transplant center at Indiana University?”

She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly before
nodding in agreement. “Yes. I think we should get started.”

***

Loretta crawled into bed shortly
before ten that night, praying that her exhaustion would allow her to fall
asleep. She looked at her bedside clock at midnight and swung her feet to the
floor in frustration. She padded to her closet and pulled the old calendar down
from its hiding place on the back of the top shelf.

She didn’t turn on her bedside lamp but brought it
to her bedroom window and drew back the curtain. The light from the street lamp
illuminated the page that she knew from memory. The large red X on the page
marked the date when she felt certain Nicole had been conceived.

She sagged against the windowsill and leaned her
forehead against the glass. Nicole had to be Paul’s child. That other guy had
been a drunken, vengeful fling she’d had when she’d quarreled with Paul over
his promise to divorce Maggie and marry her. She stifled a sob. She didn’t even
remember his name. Why had she been so careless? The odds were heavily in
Paul’s favor, but she couldn’t be certain he was Nicole’s father. Until Nicole
had needed a kidney transplant, she had been content to let the issue die with
Paul. Now that Nicole needed a family member to donate a kidney, she had to
know.

Loretta wasn’t a match. She had to find some way
to reach Susan and Mike. She had to convince them to get tested to see if they
could be kidney donors for Nicole—and to donate a kidney if they were.
This would be so much easier if Paul were still alive.

Loretta turned her face upward.
Please, God,
give me the words. Show me the way. Do this for Nicole.

Loretta returned the calendar to its hiding place
and climbed back into bed. Her fatigue led her into a dreamless sleep.

***

Loretta Nash stood in the doorway
of Frank Haynes’ office and cleared her throat. He looked at her over the top
of his reading glasses.

“May I come in? I have something I need to talk to
you about.”

“Of course,” he said, motioning her to one of the
chairs on the other side of his desk. He looked into her eyes and smiled.

Loretta lowered her gaze to her hands clasped in
her lap. She cleared her throat and began. “I’m going to need some time off of
work, Mr. Haynes …”

“It’s Frank, for heaven’s sake,” he interrupted.

She glanced at him and a smile brushed her lips.
“Frank. The doctors think that Nicole needs a transplant. It will be better for
her in the long run, and she should have it done sooner rather than later. They
want us to go to a hospital in Indianapolis that does a lot of pediatric kidney
transplants. Nicole needs to be evaluated before she can even get on a
transplant list.”

He nodded encouragingly.

“So I’m going to need to be gone from work for the
initial consultation. And when she has the transplant, I’ll need a bunch of
time off.” Loretta’s voice caught in her throat. “I’m not sure how much. And
you’ve let me take off a lot already.” She looked into his eyes, and her tone
was pleading. “I’ve got to keep my job, Frank. I need the health insurance and
the income. I don’t know how, but I’ll make it up to you. You don’t have to
give me a raise for the rest of my life.”

“I’m not going to fire you, Loretta,” he heard
himself reassure her. “And I’ve already told you, I’ll help with your medical
expenses. That goes for this transplant center, too. Don’t worry about being
gone. I did all the work around here for years. I can pick up the slack again,”
he said, not feeling sure that he could.

“I’ve thought about that,” Loretta said. “Could we
hire a part-time assistant? A high school student on work study or an intern
from the college? They could do the simple data entry, and I could work on the
reports and financials remotely, on a laptop. I could take it with me. I’ll be
spending a lot of time in waiting rooms. I could easily work there. Or while
Nicole’s asleep.”

“We’ll see,” Frank said.

“I know you don’t like a lot of people poking
their noses into your business,” she said. “I understand that. But we’re almost
at the point where the two of us can’t keep up anymore. I was going to suggest
this even before Nicole got sick again.” She paused. “Think about it.”

He nodded slowly, knowing he’d never agree to
bring anyone else on board. “What about Sean and Marissa?” he asked, changing
the subject. “Will they go with you?”

“No. They’ll be in school. My babysitter has
agreed to take them.”

“She’s a very nice woman.”

“You have no idea. She’s agreed to keep them for
free to help me out. I can’t believe it, because it’s not like she doesn’t need
the money.”

Haynes made a mental note to make sure that the
babysitter won the drawing for this month’s Visa gift card from Haynes
Enterprises—regardless of whether she had ever set foot in one of his
restaurants and entered to win or not.

“When will you go?”

“I’m not sure yet but probably by next month. Her
doctor is setting it up.” She began absentmindedly twisting a strand of her
hair around her finger, a nervous habit she’d picked up as a child that had
grown more prevalent since her move to Westbury. “I’m so sorry that I can’t
give you much notice.”

Haynes waved his hand in dismissal. “That doesn’t
matter. Why don’t we buy you a laptop this afternoon? Then you’ll be all set.”

“Thank you, Frank.” She began to rise, but he put
out his hand to stop her.

“What have they told you about the transplant
donor? Who would make a good candidate?” If Nicole were Paul’s child, as he
suspected, Maggie Martin’s kids could be ideal donors.

“Anyone with the right blood type and tissue match
can be a donor, but close family members are best. Nicole and I are different
blood types, so I’m not a candidate, unfortunately.”

“What about Nicole’s father?” Frank asked. “Or
other close relatives?”

Loretta shook her head. “I was adopted, so I’m not
a blood relative to my sister.”

Frank remained silent.
Surely she knows that Paul
Martin’s other children could be donors,
he thought. He wouldn’t broach the
subject with her just yet; he’d let her keep her secrets a bit longer.