Chapter 32
“I’m not moving to Colorado this morning, Molly. The property sale has to go through before we can even start on the renovations.” I stand in my Dallas living room, arms crossed, eyes glued to the TV.
Speaking of Twelve Bluebells, I check my phone for Prissy’s call. Nothing. Here at the end of the option period for the ranch, unexpected structural issues threaten the deal. I need to hear from my realtor.
“Do you really want to move somewhere that gets these mega storms?” Molly motions to the news coverage.
A massive cold front is shutting down airports across the central states. Pictures of downed electricity poles, roads blanketed with snow, and brightly colored maps noting torrential weather fill the screen. The groundhog wasn’t kidding about an extended winter.
She rubs her forehead. “It’s just hard to swallow that you’re leaving.”
Hopefully. Hopefully I’m leaving.
After I stayed in Colorado for six weeks, returning to Dallas feels a little odd. This will always be a home for me, though it may not always be my home. Between my newfound peace, new friendships, and Twelve Bluebells Ranch, my world has shifted. It feels purposeful. Solid.
Uncertainty exists, pain is inevitable. But an unexplainable equanimity underscores my days.
When my phone rings, I do a double take at the screen. “Hello?”
“Meredith.”
“Penelope?” I glance up to Molly and shrug.
“I’m calling about Alex. There’s been an accident. Can you get on a plane?” As efficient and professional as I remember Harlan’s assistant to be, her tone is uneasy.
At the blunt explanation, I lose my breath. An accident. An accident.
Deep inhale. I command my brain to separate reality from assumption. Truth from fear. Deep exhale.
“We’re in LA. Can you get on a plane? Due to the weather, the Holcombes are grounded in Colorado. Olivia too. The earliest anyone can travel is twenty-four hours. But I don’t know what’s going to happen to Alex.” Penelope’s voice breaks, and she pauses. “Can you come be with Harlan?”
The words drag through thick syrup before they make sense to me. “Yes. What do you need?” I cover the speaker on my phone and say to Molly, “Grab my luggage out of my closet, please. The small blue rolling carry-on bag.”
Her eyes grow huge, but she follows my instruction.
“A car will be at your house in thirty minutes to take you to the airport. I’m emailing you your itinerary.”
“What else can I do?”
“Just get here. Harlan needs you.” She ends the call.
Dread fills my chest, and it’s hard to breathe. Harlan may need more than I can offer.
After landing at LAX, I find Penelope’s driver.
We travel through the city in silence. Scrolling the news on my phone, I catch several stories about the storm.
On a separate feed, a paparazzi picture of Harlan walking into the hospital is paired with a blurb that the famous actor’s daughter has been in an accident.
I only feel small guilt pangs when I pray that a newsworthy scandal breaks elsewhere to distract the photographers.
Now able to focus, I read through my emails and listen to voice messages.
All from Prissy. With each piece of information shared, impending doom draws near.
The owners withheld details about needed foundation repairs that greatly affect the structure.
Prissy needs me in Colorado to sign off on the new discoveries before we can close.
The sellers won’t extend the option period, which means other buyers are waiting in the wings.
And Prissy’s latest text sinks my heart.
You are going to lose the house if you don’t call me.
But I don’t reply to her pleas because I can’t deal with this right now. Everything is happening too fast.
Only Alex matters. I know this. I’ve lived this.
Only Alex.
I’m sad about the possibility of losing the house, but I will not regret traveling to California for Alex. For Harlan.
Penelope waits for me just inside the doors of Saperstein Critical Care Tower at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. Her pencil skirt, silk shirt, and heels can’t mask the stress evident in the dark circles under her eyes.
Alex has a special place in Penelope’s heart. And holding it together for everyone else can’t be easy. When is the fabulous Penelope Reid allowed to break down?
Rolling my luggage, I follow her. “What happened?”
“She fell off a climbing tower on a playground.” The elevator doors slide open, and after we enter, Penelope hits the second-floor button.
“Harlan and I were in a meeting when I got the call. The babysitter says Alex was unconscious for three or four minutes. A CT scan shows swelling on the brain.” Her voice wavers.
“She’s in the ICU. They have her medically sedated and on a ventilator.
” Penelope’s focused gaze shifts to me. “We were all supposed to go to Disneyland tomorrow. That’s the only reason Harlan brought her on this trip. ”
I’m stuck on the word “ventilator,” and I rub my chest.
Once we arrive on Alex’s floor, Penelope guides me to the left.
At the end of the hallway, Harlan sits on a bench. His elbows rest on his knees, head in his hands.
I tell myself I’m not allowed to fall apart until this is over.
When I sit next to him, I touch his back. “Harlan?”
Without looking at me, he slumps over and rests his head in my lap. His hands still cover his face, and he begins to shake. I stroke his hair and trace his arm with my fingers as his body racks with sobs.
Nurses, orderlies, and strangers pass. Penelope stands in the corner, arms crossed.
And I hold a broken man in my arms.
Once he sits up, he wipes his face. “I was with her in her room, but I started to lose it.” His eyes well. “I don’t want her to be alone, but I can’t . . .”
“I can go with you. Would that help? Or do you want me to sit with her until you’re ready?”
He stares at me.
I gave him too many options. He needs direction. “How about this. Grab a snack. Go to the restroom. Take your time. I’ll stay with Alex until you come back.”
When I rise, he squeezes and releases my arm.
Grateful for an actual task that can help Harlan, I head toward Alex’s room.
But when I stand next to her bed, I have to steady myself.
My knuckles turn white as I cling to the rail.
Her face is oddly peaceful while machines help her little body function.
As I study her, I’m blindsided by how I feel for this precious, beautiful girl.
We haven’t had much time together, but I care for her. Deeply.
After taking a seat, I scoot the chair in, cringing when it grates against the floor. But when I glance at Alex’s listless body, I wish the noise had woken her.
“Alex, it’s Meredith. Your zoo buddy. Your Play-Doh buddy.” Gingerly, I take her hand in mine. “You’re doing really well. So many people are here taking care of you.” I comb my fingers through her hair. “I’m going to sit with you for a few minutes until your dad gets back.”
When I pull Kleenex out of my purse, my fingers graze the accordion folder full of my children’s pictures.
I didn’t get the chance to fight for my own children. Clayton and Chloe were gone in an instant. But here I sit, my simple, newfound love for this child boundless.
And I feel like I am somehow in a battle for her.
My thoughts shift from waging war to blueprints. I picture a newly renovated boardinghouse. But instead of fourteen rooms, the space is undefined. Don’t limit the love you think you can give.
I’m a warrior for a little girl who isn’t mine. But in this moment, I know there could be room for others.
Tears stream down my face.
With my eyes closed, I whisper prayers. Moments later, I feel a warm hand on my shoulder. Harlan’s fingers skim my cheek.
We switch places. He leans into the side of the hospital bed and cradles Alex’s hand.
Keeping an eye on the monitor, I place my palm on his back.
“Hey, doodlebug.” He sips from a water bottle he brought in and places it on the side table. “It’s Daddy. I’m here.” Gone is the unsure, panicked father from earlier. He’s found his footing. His voice steadies and sounds gentle as he offers updates on the day and reassures her of his love.
While Harlan murmurs to his daughter, Penelope signals me from the door. I step out into the hallway.
“I’ve got to take care of some logistics.
I’m going to run by the hotel, get a few hours of sleep, and pick up a change of clothes for Harlan.
If Alex’s status changes, you have my number.
The driver is on call through the night, so if you need anything, text him.
” She offers me a business card for the chauffeur company.
“Per Harlan’s orders, I informed the producers he was meeting with not to come by tonight or tomorrow.
But I’ll update them. They sent the giant cookie bouquet in the snack room. ”
I take her elbow and guide her out of earshot. “Penelope, you’re not my assistant, so please feel free to say—”
“What do you need?” She pulls her phone out of her coat pocket.
“Prissy Prestidge is a realtor I’m working with in Colorado Springs. She’s connected to the Broadmoor—”
“I’m acquainted with Prissy.” While pressing commands onto her screen, she raises her eyebrows.
“We’re in the middle of negotiations on a house, and she’s called me all day. Will you please contact her and tell her I can’t do this now?” I fold a piece of hair behind my ear. “Assure her that I realize the deal may fall through.”
She shifts her focus from her phone to me and searches my face. “What if I can work with her on it for you?”
“No, thank you. The deal’s too big for me not to be completely involved at this point. I need to be here. It’s okay.” I wrap my arms around my pained stomach. “If I lose the property, I lose the property.”
“What can I do, Meredith?”
In spite of the intense energy coming from her, I silently hold her stare. There’s nothing she can do.
Resignation registers on her face, and she sighs her defeat. “How long are you planning to be in LA?”