“Of course.” She gave an annoyed flip of her hand. “This whole episode was scary, but I’m fine. I feel terrible you made a cross-country trip for nothing.”
“I’m glad it was nothing. Or not much.” She continued toward the hall. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
As soon as she left the room, she put the phone back to her ear and ambled toward the lounge near the bathrooms. “Sorry. I was in with my mom.”
“How is she?”
“Doing fine. It wasn’t a stroke.”
“That’s good news. What happened?”
“The doctors called it a complex migraine, even though she’s never had a problem with headaches.”
“Ah. I saw a couple of those on my ER rotation in med school. A very strange phenomenon. The symptoms can simulate a stroke.”
“So the doctors said. Mom told us she hadn’t been feeling well all day. Then her cheek and hand went numb, her vision got blurry, and her speech suddenly became incomprehensible. I’m glad I wasn’t here for that part.” A quiver rippled through her.
“On an optimistic note, in general the prognosis is very positive for those kinds of episodes. In most cases there aren’t any residual effects.”
“That’s what we’ve been told.” She crossed the lounge and tucked herself into a quiet corner. Asking outright why he hadn’t called sooner might be pushy . . . but she should be able to get the answer without posing a direct question. “I’m sorry about missing our lunch. I was looking forward to it.”
“No worries. We’ll reschedule after you get back. Now it’s my turn to apologize. I only got your text and voicemail fifteen minutes ago. When you didn’t show at Charley’s, I pulled out my cell to see if you’d called and discovered the battery was dead.”
Propping a shoulder against the wall, she let out a long, slow breath.
Thank you again, God.
“I suppose I could play this coy, but the truth is that makes me feel better.”
“As long as we’re being candid, I’ll reciprocate by telling you that I’m glad it makes you feel better.”
Her dad passed by the lounge . . . stopped . . . and lifted a tray with three venti Starbucks cups.
She waved at him and held up a single finger to buy herself another minute.
“That also makes me feel better.” She pushed off from the wall. “My dad just passed by with a Starbucks infusion for all of us—and I need some caffeine.”
“Have you gotten any sleep?”
“An hour or two. My mom is hoping they’ll let her go by the end of the day, so we should all be able to sleep in real beds tonight.”
“How long are you staying?”
“To be determined. I can work on most of my projects from here—including the crowdfunding campaign—but I’d rather be in Hope Harbor to keep my finger on the pulse of everything.”
“If you need me to step in and help in any way while you’re gone, I’d be happy to.”
She slouched against the wall again. The lack of sleep was beginning to take a toll. “I’m not certain your bidder would appreciate you undercutting his efforts to buy the lighthouse.”
“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”
She gave a soft laugh. “I’ll keep your offer in mind, but I’ve already been in touch with Greg and some of the other committee members. I think we’ve got it covered for the next two or three days.”
“You’ll be back that fast?”
“Unless there’s a change here—but I don’t expect that, based on Mom’s prognosis. I don’t want to miss an issue of the Herald. Rachel’s capable and willing, but she’s still learning the ropes.”
“Let me know your travel plans—and we’ll have that lunch as soon as you get back. Now I better let you go join your parents for coffee.”
Oh yeah.
They were probably wondering what was keeping her.
“Thanks for calling. Talking to you gave me the lift I needed.”
“That goes both ways. Take care, and see you soon.” The line went dead.
For a few moments, Marci stayed where she was, replaying the conversation in her mind. Funny how that brief connection with Ben had revived her energy.
Too bad he wasn’t here to give her one of those adrenaline-producing forehead kisses of his.
That would be far preferable to a dose of high-octane coffee.
But since java was the only energy booster available, better join her parents and claim her cup.
When she appeared on the threshold of her mom’s room, her father smiled.
“We wondered if you’d gotten lost.” He plucked the third cup out of the cardboard tray as she entered. “Sweet and diluted—the way you like it.”
She reached for it and took a long, slow sip. “Mmm. Perfect.”
“Why don’t you take the car and go to the house, get some shut-eye?” He pulled out his keys and jingled them in front of her. “It could be hours before your mom gets sprung, and you have to be exhausted.”
“To be honest, I think I’m catching my second wind.”
“It can’t be from the coffee. The caffeine wouldn’t kick in that fast.”
“Maybe the phone call gets the credit for the boost.” Her mom gave her a speculative perusal.
Sheesh.
Her mother’s migraine episode might have disturbed the blood flow in her brain, but it hadn’t done one bit of damage to her mental processes—or her legendary intuition.
Marci hid behind another sip of coffee, dragging it out as long as she could.
“Did you get some good news?” As usual, her teddy bear of a dad was oblivious to the subtleties his wife homed in on like a divining rod to water.
“No real news. Just a call from a friend.”
“Anyone we know?” Her mom’s casual tone was at odds with her keen, discerning eyes.
“No. He’s only been in town a short while.”
“Ah. A man friend.”
True to form, her mother had jumped all over the fact she had a new friend of the opposite gender.
“He’s passing through, Mom. In three or four weeks, he’ll be gone.” And she wasn’t ready to talk about him to her parents. “You know, Dad . . . I think I’ll take you
