Perfectly Reasonable (13 page)

Chapter 28

The following Tuesday, Margo was up to her elbows in hot dishwater, still re-living the Valentine’s Day evening. The balloon ride had only been the beginning. It had been followed by a limo ride to a cozy restaurant in the country for a five-star, four-course meal in a casual setting.

A wood-burning fire had crackled in the fireplace, soft music had filled the air, and the muted conversations of the other patrons in the small dining room had made it intimate and elegant.

They had ended up at Trace’s condo with more soft music, dancing by the moonlight streaming in the windows, and a dreamy evening in bed.

He was thorough. He could definitely write that on his resume. Great with his hands, excellent skills with his tongue. She tingled thinking about it and told herself to stop. She was in the middle of a shift at Breaking Bread, and Hattie would be calling her out for daydreaming if she didn’t start paying attention.

Trace was out in the dining room, doing his usual sparring with Ottie over hockey. She heard the occasional burst of laughter from the dining room when someone swung through the door to replenish the food or carry in the dishes.

First work. Then play. She looked around at the dwindling pile of dishes left to wash. It wouldn’t be long.

The kitchen door swung open and Trace poked his head in. “Margo, can you come, please? Ottie’s having chest pain.”

Margo grabbed a tea towel and dried her hands as she hurried to the dining room. A small crowd of people hovered around Ottie, who sat in his usual chair. They parted to let Margo through.

Margo knelt down beside him. “Chest pain, Ottie?”

Ottie grimaced and nodded. “Here.” He held his fist against the center of his chest. “And here.” He motioned up his neck and down his left arm.

Trace stood beside him, frowning. He lifted Ottie’s hat off. Ottie’s face was pale, sweat gathered on his forehead, and he struggled to speak.

Margo looked up at Trace. “Call an ambulance.”

Ottie looked even more distressed and became agitated. “No. I don’t want that,” he said.

Hattie clucked around. “Let’s give him some room, everyone. Take a seat and give him some space.”

Margo placed her fingers at Ottie’s wrist and checked his pulse. “It could be your heart, Ottie. Have you had heart problems?”

“Years ago. Not recently.”

Trace stepped back to the circle around Ottie. “They’re on their way. Is there anything else I can do?”

Margo watched Ottie relax as Trace drew close. “Stay close by.”

Trace knelt down beside Ottie. “Don’t think I’m going to forget about our bet. This doesn’t change anything.”

Ottie gave a weak laugh and reached for Trace’s hand.

The paramedics arrived within minutes and whisked Ottie onto a stretcher and into the waiting ambulance. He looked so small and frail, his little round face peaking out from under the blankets.

“We should go with him,” Trace said with a worried glance. He picked up Ottie’s top hat and brushed it off. “I wouldn’t want to be on my own at the hospital, and he seems scared.”

Margo watched the ambulance pull away. Her stomach burned with acid. Memories of Trace’s grandfather filled her head. “Yeah. Yeah. We probably should.”

Hattie hovered. “You go, honey. I’ll finish the washing up. Everyone will feel better if they know you’re with Ottie.”

Margo smiled weakly. “Okay. I’ll get my keys.”

Trace followed on her heels.

Margo’s mind was reeling. Back to the hospital. She vowed never to go back. It was going to be okay. She wasn’t the doctor. She was just the friend of the patient. The moral support. She would watch what came out of her mouth. Think twice, speak once. Be very careful.

Ottie had chest pain, and it didn’t look good. It sounded like angina. Could be a heart attack. It was possible he’d need a stent. What if she said the wrong thing again? She shouldn’t reassure him. She shouldn’t not reassure him. He was so anxious, poor thing. What if she messed up? What if it was Ernie all over again?

Margo felt the burn in her chest and wished she had an antacid in her car. Her pulse raced and her palms were sweating despite the cold air blasting through the vents.

They pulled up to the emergency department, and Margo slowed the car. She looked over at Trace. He was as pale as Ottie. His brows were together in a deep frown. He stared silently out the window and rubbed the brim of Ottie’s hat.

“I’ll drop you off at the door and park the car. Go find him and sit with him,” she encouraged.

Trace nodded and stepped out. He strode through the emergency department entrance, his shoulders squared.
He’ll be there for Ottie
.

She parked the car and made her way inside. Slowly. Any slower and she’d be walking backward, she chided herself. She looked around the room and didn’t see Trace. She checked with the nurse and learned that Ottie was in a room and was only allowed one visitor.

She took a seat in the waiting room and picked up a magazine but couldn’t focus on the stories. The words blurred on the page.

It was taking too long.

Margo was about to get up and pace when the door opened, and Trace walked through. He looked around and made a beeline for her. She stood up and walked into his hug.

“He’s stable,” Trace said. “It was touch and go for a while, but he’s stable.” He sighed as he held her. “It’s his heart, and they want to put a stent in. I don’t get all of what they were saying, but the gist is they want to put a little tube to hold the clogged artery open?”

Margo nodded. “Yes, that’s right. When are they doing it?”

“They’re waiting for a doctor, and as soon as he gets here, they’re going ahead.” He squeezed her and stepped back to look in her eyes. “Can you talk to him? He has a million questions, and I don’t know the answers. You could explain it to him.”

Margo’s gut clenched and she felt lightheaded. “I . . . I can’t.”

Trace frowned. “Why not? I can wait out here if you’re worried about the one visitor rule.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Trace snorted. “You gave me a dozen scenarios easier than this and knew exactly what to say.”

“That was different.”

“How? You’re great with stuff like this.”

Margo cringed. “I had time to think about those. I can’t do it on the fly,” she said, her voice rising with panic.

“That’s ridiculous. Just do the same thing.” He tugged her hand and pulled her toward Ottie’s room.

Margo dug her heels in. She started to see black. Her head was floating away from her body. “I can’t,” she whispered. She blinked back tears.

“Margo, he needs you. He’s scared. He has a million questions, and you can help him.”

Margo stood still, her eyes filling. “I can’t,” she repeated.

Trace gave an impatient shake of his head. “What do you mean, you can’t? You’re a doctor. Of course you can.” Trace sighed. “What are you going to do when you have patients who need you? Don’t think of Ottie as a friend. Think of him as a patient.”

Margo shook her head, her lips pressed together. She swallowed. “I’m never going to have patients. I’m a painter.”

Trace snorted. “Right.” He waved his hands impatiently. “Of course you’ll go back to medicine. How can you not? Even Daniel thought you’d return.”

Margo gritted her teeth. “It’s not a passing thing. I’m not going back.”

Trace stared. “You’re going to throw it all away?” he asked, incredulous. “People apply for years, spend thousands of dollars to be a doctor. You have it in the palm of your hand, and you’re going to throw it all away?”

Margo bit her lip and focused over his shoulder.

“That’s a waste. And this is a cop out. Ottie really needs you.” Trace threw her a scathing look and turned on his heel. He pushed through the door to the patient exam area and didn’t look back.

Margo sat down heavily on a waiting-room chair and bowed her head in her hands. She couldn’t be here.

She rose on shaking legs and walked out into the cold air.

Chapter 29

Ottie did okay. Margo’s classmate was rotating through the cardiology service, so she called her each day for an update.

Three of his cardiac arteries had been blocked, and he had needed a stent. He had sailed through it with flying colors but stayed in the hospital for an extra few days because he lived alone. Now he was up and about and ready to go home.

She wasn’t doing okay.

She hadn’t heard from Trace.

She had stalked his Facebook page until yesterday, when he had unfriended her.

She followed him on Twitter, but his posts had become sparse. Except for one tweet the night before.

He got an interview. Only one, he tweeted.

But one was all you needed. Well, good luck to him. He was still keen. Probably cuz he hadn’t killed anyone lately. His foray into the medical world with Ottie apparently hadn’t turned him off medicine. Just her.

He was definitely turned off her. Unfriended. Disliked. Disdained. She was person non grata. Whatever the hell that meant.

She glared at the lime green Volkswagen Beetle in front of her. Why would anyone want to drive a happy car all the time? People weren’t happy all the time. And that color looked like spring. It was the middle of the freakin’ freezing winter. The car needed a giant scarf.

She turned into the parking lot at Breaking Bread, and her car slid two feet when she tried to stop. Time for some salt and sand.

Hattie was at the stove when Margo went in.

“Welcome, honey. Come in and get warm,” Hattie shouted with a smile.

Margo breathed in the scent of spicy chili and baking bread. “Smells delicious, as usual,” she said as she wrapped an arm around Hattie’s shoulders.

Hattie squeezed her back. “Thank you. I made a big batch so we can freeze some. Maybe save us some cookin’ and cleanin’ one day next week.”

“You always say that Hattie, but there are never any leftovers.”

Hattie laughed and looked at Margo closely. Margo fidgeted with the scrutiny.

“What’s with those dark circles? Where’s your ready smile?”

“Rough week,” Margo said, hoping to brush it off.

Hattie looked serious. “Yeah, I hear ya. Ottie sure gave us a scare last week, didn’t he? But I hear he’s doin’ all right.”

Margo nodded and tried to smile. “He is. He’s pestering them to go home. But he did score some butterscotch ripple. I think he’s charmed the nurses.”

Hattie gave a deep laugh. “Sure, or maybe it was that boyfriend of yours. I hear he’s been staying with Ottie, visiting him twice a day, making sure he’s got a TV so he can watch the games. Keeping a real close eye on him.” She stirred the chili. “And Trace would charm the butterscotch ripple out of the kitchen.”

“He would.”

“Never mind that. I’m still thanking the heavens that it happened on a night you were here. You knew what to do. Organizing it all, going with Ottie to the hospital, that meant a lot. He was pretty scared and a familiar face is always reassuring. We’re lucky to have a doctor so handy,” she said with a laugh.

Margo rubbed absently at the ache in her stomach. She was a fraud and a coward. “I think Trace did more.”

Hattie nodded. “He’s a fine boy, too. He dropped by and said he would take meals over to Ottie until Ottie was well enough to traipse through the snow. Isn’t that the nicest thing?”

“Yeah. Really nice.”

“That’s what I thought, too. I hear he’s going for a doctor. He’ll make a good one. Too bad we’re not the ones choosin’. I’d choose him for sure.”

Better him than her.
“I’ll start with the washing up here, Hattie,” she said, trying to change the subject.

“Perfect. This is all done. We’ll get it served up.” Hattie moved about the kitchen finishing the final touches, taking warm rolls from the oven, and supervising the buffet table for the meal.

Margo filled the sink and gathered the dishes, staying out of Hattie’s way. She ventured out into the dining room to help Carl with his meds, but the atmosphere in the dining room wasn’t the same without Ottie’s cheerful grin and Trace’s interested eyes.

Her heart was heavy as she shut the lights off at the end of the evening and locked the door behind her.

Margo shivered in the cold and pulled up her hood. This was fumble-with-the-key, no-way-are-the-gloves-coming-off, weather. Even the engine gave a low whine of protest in the cold when she inserted the key fob and pushed the button, but it caught and started. Rubbing her hands together to keep them warm, she sat for a moment to let the engine run.

She needed a holiday and really wanted to get away. Someplace tropical. Away from winter. Away from scrutiny and lies. Away from Trace. She sighed. Just away. She missed Mikaela and wondered what she was up to. Did ob-gyn residents get holidays?

She switched on the fan and blasted warm air onto the windshield to melt the frost on the inside and loosen the ice on the outside. It’d be another minute before she could go scrape it off, so she pulled out her phone.

Hey you up for a holiday? Desperate need for some vitamin D here.

She hit send. She grabbed the ice scraper and went out and cleared off the windshield. In the time it took, Mikaela answered.

Sounds wonderful. Maybe next week? On call next 2 days then off for 3. I’ll try to finagle 2 more. Where?

Margo smiled and texted back.
Any place with palm trees
.

I’ll get Nancy on it.

Bless Nancy’s heart, Margo thought, as she set her phone aside. She turned her headlights on and pulled out of the parking lot. Home. She craved a long soak in the tub and a quiet night reading under the warmth of her comforter.

She sighed and felt the weight of weariness on her shoulders.

Margo pulled up behind a cube van at a red light. When the light turned green, the cube van shot off, and a huge chunk of ice slid off the roof and flew at Margo’s Mini-Cooper.

It crashed down, bounced off the hood, and smashed into the passenger side windshield, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces.

Shit. Visions of a hot bath flew out the window as the cold air rushed in. What a hassle.

The cube van took off. Margo pulled over to the side of the road, hit the hazard light button with more force than it needed, and pulled out her cell phone.

She wasn’t even sure who to call. She looked at the shattered windshield. A tow truck, for one. Police? Insurance?

Margo dealt with it all. Two hours later, she unlocked the door to her apartment and shuffled wearily inside. It was done. The car was at a garage. She’d have to call in the morning and sort out the details, but they estimated at least a week for the repair. The windshield was the easy part. It was the huge dent in the hood that was the problem. And the paint job that would have to follow the repair. And the money it would take to pay for the windshield and the paint job. And the insurance rates that would go up.

A week without a car. Great. She’d have to rent one.

More expense, but she’d need a car to earn money. Money she needed to pay for all the bills for the car.

She threw her keys on the table near the door, tugged off her boots, and shrugged out of her coat. Too tired to care, she tossed the coat on the nearest chair. She trudged to the kitchen and pulled out the bottle of wine she kept in the fridge for ‘emergency’ guests.

Damn. Where was a twist off top when you needed it? She scrounged through three drawers for a corkscrew. Not a bottle opener in sight.

Forget it.

She left the bottle on the counter and shutting off the lights, made her way to the bedroom. A bath. Hot water. Bubbles. A long soak. A long sleep.

Dreams of palm trees and warmth.

And a vacation she could afford.