Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Caroline

I can't wait to get out of here. Between the beeping machines and bleary-eyed nurses showing up at every hour of the night, all I want is to go home and pour a glass of wine. Even if it is 7:30 in the morning.

Last night, they admitted me. I'm sure Calvin was very involved in that decision. I haven't seen him since he read me the riot act.

I know I scared him but he doesn't get it. I can't simply walk away from the lawsuit. The judge will award Bernard's kids everything they're demanding. It's not an option.

Thankfully, the IV is gone and I'm no longer tethered like a bad sci-fi experiment. I get up carefully, relieved to be standing on my own two feet and shuffle forward like a newborn giraffe, learning to use its legs. I rummage through my purse for makeup and a hairbrush and step into the massive wheelchair-accessible bathroom, leaving the door ajar.

"Are you okay?"

I look out to find Bernard's daughter, Rachel, standing in the doorway, wearing a white lab coat and a stethoscope around her neck. If my blood pressure isn't spiking, it's a miracle.

Rachel is an attending physician here. She must have seen my name pop up somewhere.

"I'll be fine," I say, not bothering to mask my distaste. I find my clothes in the small closet in the corner and put on my sweater, working hard to avoid making eye contact with my legal nemesis.

Looking at her, one would never think pretty-and-petite Rachel capable of cutting off a widow's finances but there you go. It makes my skin crawl. If Calvin's right, I'm here in large part because of her. Maybe she was hoping I kicked the bucket and can now save all the trouble suing me.

"Why are you here?" I ask.

She frowns, then shakes her head. "Josh told me not to come."

I ignore the comment. Neither of Bernard's kids ever took to me. True or not, I've been pegged ‘the other woman' from day one. While I can understand Rachel's dislike, her brother Josh fashioned a monster out of me in his mind.

For some reason she's still here. She's asking for it.

"Why are you trying to ruin me?" I ask.

She furrows her brow. "I . . . we aren't. We want to protect our father's legacy."

"Legacy, my hiney. This is about money and spite." If I had to guess, their mother's spite but I keep that to myself.

Rachel's gaze shifts.

"You do realize I am still spearheading your father's fundraiser? All the proceeds are going to his beloved charity. Is that the sign of someone who only married him for his money?"

"Yes, I heard. That's very kind."

I'm livid. My face is heating up. "It's more than kind. I believe in the cause."

I sit, feeling faint.

Rachel takes a step closer and I put up a hand, halting her.

We stare at each other.

I don't want her to see me like this. Weak, emotional. "I loved him you know. Even if you don't believe it." I feel a dampness in my eyes and blink it away.

Rachel is only a couple of feet away but her eyes are now boring into me as if she's trying to read my soul. Her face registers confusion.

"Rachel?"

We both turn to the doorway. Somehow my room has become Grand Central Station.

Rachel's demeanor changes immediately to upbeat. "Hi, Uncle Paul. I thought you would be here before me."

Paul gives me the eye. "I would have been had Mrs. Page told me she was in the hospital."

Great. More drama.

"How did you find out that I'm here?" I ask him.

"I have my ways. That you didn't tell me yourself is quite disappointing."

I know the man and he is more hurt than anything else. Still, it would have been worse for him to get a call that I was taken unconscious to the hospital. He's received one of those before about Bernard and that one didn't end well.

I say, "I'm sorry." Then, "Do you recall our earlier conversation?"

"If you mean that I'm no longer employed by you, I have not forgotten."

"Wait, what?" Rachel is looking between us.

"What do you think will happen if you cut me off? I'll be drowning in legal fees. I won't be able to afford a driver."

Rachel appears genuinely stricken. "But you'll get the apartment."

I know I've been living the high life but clearly, being born with a silver spoon in one's mouth makes one clueless. "How will the apartment pay Paul's salary?"

She doesn't answer because there isn't one.

An awkward silence stretches between the three of us.

Finally, Rachel says, "I should get back to my rounds."

I want to say "good riddance" but Paul won't appreciate that and for better or worse, I care what he thinks.

Rachel plants a kiss on Paul's cheek telling him she'll call. To me, she says softly, "Feel better, Caroline."

I nod and stand back up, grabbing my purse and coat from the closet.

Paul's expression is strained. " Where are you going?"