Then, plastering a smile on his face, he risked poking his head in the kitchen. At first glance, he didn’t see Dana Sue, but Erik gestured silently toward the stove.
She had her back to him. She’d tied on an apron and was sautéing five different dishes at the same time, then serving them up onto plates that already had garnishes in place. She added a decorative swirl of sauce, then tapped a bell to call for a waiter.
She lined up three more orders in clips hanging just above her head, and started the process again. Her movements were efficient and fast, her concentration intense.
Ronnie slipped over to Erik. “Do you need her here?”
He shook his head. “Karen was handling that till Dana Sue came in. She’s just taking a break.”
“Good. I’m going to get her out of here. We need to go back to the hospital to see Annie.” Ronnie met the pastry chef’s troubled gaze and decided the time had come to attempt to make him an ally, rather than an enemy. “Did she eat?”
Erik seemed surprised by the question. “I talked her into having the meat loaf again.” He shrugged. “Comfort food usually works.”
Ronnie decided not to press the issue further, but he had a hunch that Erik knew he’d figured out what was going on with her.
“I won’t get her that upset again,” he promised in an undertone, then sighed. “Okay, I probably will, but I’ll keep her away from anything she shouldn’t eat.”
Erik’s gaze narrowed, but like Ronnie, he didn’t give anything away. Instead, he merely nodded. “I hope you stick to that.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Dana Sue’s voice cut through the noise around them. “Are you two planning to stop whispering anytime soon?” she demanded, her back still to them. “It’s getting on my nerves.”
Erik grinned. “Then by all means we’ll shut right up. If there’s one thing I hate in the kitchen, it’s an edgy woman with knives.”
She handed off the next batch of orders to Karen, then came to join them. “Something you might want to remember more often,” she told Erik, patting his cheek. Then she faced Ronnie. “Ready to go back to the hospital?”
“Sure. Are you?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Ronnie knew the feeling. Every time he thought about Annie’s uphill battle, it made him want to sit down and cry. Add in the battle Dana Sue was secretly waging, and he wondered if anything was going to be normal for any of them again.
Chapter Thirteen
Dana Sue was relieved to find Annie surrounded by her friends when she and Ronnie got back to the hospital. It meant they could put off giving her the lecture Dr. McDaniels had suggested. Maybe having company—especially Ty, who was slumped down in a chair in a corner, watching Annie with a worried frown on his face—would even improve Annie’s mood enough that she’d be more receptive to whatever her parents said to her later.
Dana Sue glanced at Ronnie and noted that he looked just as relieved as she felt.
“We probably should kick them out so we can talk to her,” he said, not showing much enthusiasm.
“They’ll go soon enough,” Dana Sue said. “Besides, if we’re the ones responsible for making them leave, she’ll be too upset to want to hear anything we have to say.”
“Why are you two standing outside Annie’s door whispering?” Helen asked when she arrived a few minutes later.
“Strategy session,” Dana Sue told her.
“Oh?” Helen looked from her to Ronnie and back again. “Bad news?”
“Only if Annie doesn’t listen to what we have to say.” Ronnie’s expression was grim.
Alarm flared in Helen’s eyes. “Is she worse?”
Dana Sue slipped an arm around her waist. “No. It’s just what I was telling you about this morning at the spa. She’s still giving the psychologist a tough time.”
“Denial,” Helen said sagely. “Who amongst us hasn’t grappled with that from time to time?”
Dana Sue studied her and recognized the tension in her posture. She suspected not all of that came from concern for Annie. “Are you okay? Did you see Doc Marshall today?”
Helen frowned at the question, then cast a pointed look at Ronnie.
Dana Sue got the message. “Excuse us,” she said to her ex, then dragged Helen off toward the waiting room. The instant they were seated in a relatively secluded corner, she demanded, “Tell me what happened.”
Helen snapped open her briefcase and dragged out a prescription pill bottle. “These happened,” she said dully.
“Blood pressure pills?” Dana Sue guessed.
“Water pills,” Helen said, regarding them with disgust. “People don’t take water pills till they’re old. Who wants to spend the whole darn day running to the bathroom? Can you picture me stopping a trial every ten minutes to say, ‘Excuse me, Judge, but I need to use the restroom, again’? I’ll be the laughingstock of the courthouse.”
Dana Sue bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from chuckling. Obviously, to Helen this was more about aging than it was about admitting she needed to treat her blood pressure more aggressively.
“Your blood pressure’s not high because you’re old, for goodness’ sake,” Dana Sue said. “It’s high because you’re completely overwhelmed, you work too hard, you don’t exercise and eat right.” She gave her a hard look. “But you know all that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” her friend said impatiently. “I told Doc Marshall I was dealing with things. I showed him my goals, the very ones you and Maddie signed off on this morning. One day off every week. Aerobic exercise for one hour three days a week, weight training for two. Sign up for a meditation class. A healthy dinner at a regular time every night. Yada-yada-yada. There were ten goals on that paper. It was notarized. What more does he need?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Actually, he said it was too little too late,” Helen grumbled. “He said that my blood pressure was up from my last visit, and until I
