My father’s eyes narrowed like they did when I was a kid and about to get in trouble.
“Okay, I’ll go see what I can do.” I stood and went to the dining area. “How’s business?”
Eli shrugged.
I sat next to him. “I guess summer isn’t quite as busy as winter.” I looked over the paperwork. They were computer printouts of financial reports. As far as I could tell, the business was in the black.
“It’s all right. We’ve got more competition.”
“Is there marketing you can do to offset that?”
He glared at me. “I don’t tell you how to do your job, Mia. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell me how to do mine.”
I stared at him, wondering why and when he’d gotten so bitter. “Okay.” Then after a moment, I asked, “Are you mad at me?”
He looked at me. “Why do you let him in your life?”
“Nick?”
He nodded.
“He’s a colleague now. If you’re asking about when we were together, it was because I loved him.”
He sneered. “Nick doesn’t know love. You know he’s a horndog, don’t you?”
“Maybe now, but he wasn’t back then. He treated me well, Eli. But that’s over. Why are you still hung up on it? Are you mad at me for falling for your friend?”
He shook his head, flicking his pencil back and forth. “I don’t like that he takes everything that’s mine.”
“What?”
He rolled his shoulders. “Never mind.” He turned his attention back to his paperwork.
“Eli? Are you happy?”
“Happy enough,” he said, circling something on his paper.
“What would really make you happy?”
“Being left alone to finish this paperwork.”
I wanted to snap at him for being a jerk, but instead, I stood. “Dad, do you want something to eat or drink?”
“I wouldn’t mind some hot tea,” my father responded.
I left Eli without a word, and went to the kitchen to make my dad some tea. I spent the rest of the evening watching TV with my dad, while Eli worked in the dining room.
Later that night I went home to my unpacked apartment. I emptied one box of books onto my bookshelves just to feel like I was making progress on setting up a home in Goldrush Lake, but the truth was, the place didn’t feel permanent. I was going to be here for my father, but I was resistant to making this place my home. I didn’t want all this drama with my brother. I didn’t want this crazy pull toward Nick.
I changed into my pajamas, cotton shorts and a t-shirt, and got into bed, wondering what to do about the men in my life. I knew I’d need to work harder to avoid Nick, but I wasn’t sure how to help Eli. Did he really believe Nick took everything from him? What did that mean?
Unable to make sense of it, I went to sleep.
The next day, I had a new resolve to avoid Nick, which was made easier by the fact that he was off. It was good that he’d have a day to process and get himself right. It also gave me some time to go through the records to see what happened to Ms. Mason. As far as I could tell, everything was done correctly. Nick kept detailed notes, not just on Ms. Mason’s complaints, but a timeline and even a few personal notes, such as her grandson had driven her to the hospital.
Later that afternoon, the preliminary autopsy was in indicating that Ms. Mason died of a pulmonary embolism. I went to the pathologist to ask a few questions since I wasn’t a doctor.
“Would the tests Nick that ordered have identified an embolism?” I asked her.
She nodded as she looked over the report at her desk. “Yes. He seems to have suspected it or some sort of heart issue.”
“Had the test been done sooner, would there have been time to help her?” I asked.
The pathologist shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. Had she come in earlier in the day, for sure.”
“Dr. Foster was called away to deliver a baby. Had he been there, would he have been able to help her?”
“I’m not all-knowing. Maybe he would have noticed something sooner, but you can’t know. She doesn’t appear to have said anything about chest pain or difficulty breathing initially. When she did, it was too late,” the pathologist said.
I returned to my office, feeling confident that Nick and the hospital staff had done what they could. The diagnosis hadn’t been missed so much as they hadn’t had the time to work through it, partly because Ms. Mason’s complaints didn’t include some of the telltale signs of an embolism and partly because she came to the hospital too late. Nick was working through his differential diagnosis that seemed to include heart or lung issues. When he came in tomorrow, I’d have to ask him.
In the meantime, I headed down to the emergency room to talk with Peggy, who’d been the attending nurse.
“God, I’m sick with wondering what happened,” she said sitting with me in the lounge as she had coffee. “I keep going through it, but can’t figure out what I couldn’t have done differently.”
“What about Dr. Foster? Is there something he could have done differently?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you thinking he made a mistake? Is the hospital being sued?”
I shook my head and smiled wanting to alleviate her concern. “No legal action has been taken. I’m just wanting to get a full report for the record.”
“To cover the hospital’s ass.”
“To cover your and Nick’s asses too.” I got annoyed at how lawyers were often viewed so cynically.
She sighed. “Nick had to go deliver a baby.”
“Wasn’t there another doctor available?”
“Dr. Balding was with a patient … I can’t remember what the procedure was, but it wasn’t something he could simply drop. Nick had ordered tests, and so we were waiting on them. She wasn’t in distress. In fact, she hadn’t said anything about chest pains or difficulty breathing until about thirty minutes after he left.”
“Did you request he return or to another doctor at that point?”
“Nick was delivering
