Chapter 67
“Ma’am? Ma’am?”
Somehow, Traci had nodded off to sleep again in the waiting room. The admitting clerk was leaning across the counter, trying to get her attention.
“Yes?” Traci rubbed at her eyes.
“They just sent word that Dr. Ochoa finished your quote daughter’s discharge papers.”
She smirked when she said the word “daughter.”
Traci nodded, then turned when the doors from the ambulance bay opened as Whelan rushed inside.
“Traci?” He was dressed in his work uniform, Carhartts, a Saint work shirt, and boots.
“Hey,” she said, struggling to her feet. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and pressed his lips to her ear. “You’re okay, right? You weren’t in the fire?”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Your hair smells like smoke. And ash.”
“My new perfume.”
“Not funny. You gave me a fright,” he said, releasing his hold on her, but not before kissing her cheek.
“How did you hear about the fire?”
“I ran into one of the security guards when I stopped for coffee on the way to work. He’d just gotten off duty. I tried calling, but when you didn’t answer your phone I panicked and checked your office.”
Traci reached into the pocket of the windbreaker she’d thrown on hours ago. She brought out her cell phone and held it up. Dead.
“I heard the fire trucks and ambulance come racing past my house around three, so I got in the golf cart and followed the sirens. And ended up at the staff dorm,” Traci said.
“Did everyone get out okay?”
“Felice and Livvy were the only ones there. They managed to climb out a window and escape before the fire spread too far.”
“I saw the dorm. Or, what’s left of it. There were sheriff’s deputies and a fire marshal crawling all over it. I take it this was no accident?”
“No,” Traci said, her expression somber. “KJ was there when I got there. He’d apparently been hiding in the woods, watching. He confessed. He and Garrett drugged some wine and kombucha in the fridge so the girls wouldn’t wake up when the fire started.”
She filled him in on what little she’d learned from Shapley, the sheriff’s investigator. “KJ’s in custody, but Garrett and Charlie are gone.”
“Son of a bitch,” Whelan said under his breath. He studied her face. “You’re really okay, though, right?”
“Tired and worried beyond words, but physically I’m good.”
“Ma’am?” the clerk called out.
Traci turned and walked to the admitting desk.
“You and your quote husband can take your quote daughter home now. An aide is bringing her out now.”
“Huh?” Whelan asked.
“Don’t ask. Just smile and nod.”
She turned back to the clerk. “What about Olivia Grayson? Is she being discharged too?”
“They’re just finishing up the paperwork,” the clerk said.
The doors from the treatment area slid open and a nurse’s aide wheeled Felice out. She was wearing a cotton hospital gown and clutching a plastic bag containing prescriptions and what was left of her clothes.
“Hi. They’re sending me home. Wherever that is.”
“My place,” Traci said quickly. “Hope you like dogs, because Lola’s there and eagerly awaiting the chance to jump up and greet you with a wildly inappropriate amount of crotch sniffing.”
“Sounds fun,” Felice said.
Whelan held out his hand. “Give me your keys and I’ll pull your car up to the ambulance bay.”
Traci handed them over.
“He’s cute,” Felice said. “Is he your…”
“Friend,” Traci said, feeling herself blush.
The doors from the treatment area opened again and an aide wheeled Livvy out, with Shannon trailing close behind. The aide parked Livvy’s wheelchair right beside Felice’s, and Livvy reached over and gingerly touched her friend’s arm.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
Felice shot a worried glance at Livvy’s mother.
“It’s the roofies,” Shannon volunteered. “She doesn’t remember most of what happened last night.”
“Wish I didn’t remember it,” Felice said.
“Honey,” Shannon said, addressing her daughter, “there was a fire at the dorm. Felice saved you. She got you out of the fire.”
“For real?” Livvy laughed. “That’s insane.”
She looked over at Traci. “Hi, Mrs. E.”
“No more Mrs. E. We’re business partners now, so it’s Traci. You too, Felice,” she said. “If we’re going to be roommates, you can just call me by my first name.”
“Huh?” Livvy looked over at her mother.
“I’ll explain later,” Shannon said. “For now, I’m taking you home with me.”
“No. I don’t wanna go to your place. I want to go back to the dorm.”
Shannon knelt down beside Livvy’s wheelchair. “Listen to me, Liv. Last night there was a fire at the dorm. It was pretty bad, but like I said, Felice got you out.”
“Oh,” Livvy said. Her face crumpled. “KJ and Garrett? Are they okay?”
“They weren’t there,” Felice said. “It was just the two of us.”
“My stuff?” Livvy asked, her lower lip trembling. “The pretty bedspread and comforter and pillows from Parrish?”
“I don’t know anything about that, honey,” Shannon said gently.
“Parrish’s stepmother, Madelyn, came to get her other things. She gave me the bedspread and stuff.”
“When was this?” Traci asked.
Livvy looked confused. “I’m not sure. Last week?”
“We’ll get new bedding,” Traci promised. “And we’ll rebuild the dorm. Better than before.”
Shannon touched her daughter’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go get my car and bring it up here, and then we’ll leave.”
Traci followed her outside to the ambulance bay. “She doesn’t remember any of it?”
“Like I said, it’s the drugs. Dr. Ochoa said it’s not uncommon. Doesn’t matter.”
Whelan pulled Traci’s car up beneath the porte cochere, jumped out, and went back inside to get Felice.
“Call me later, okay?” Shannon called over her shoulder as she walked toward the parking lot.
A moment later, Whelan came back with Felice’s wheelchair.
“I can walk,” Felice insisted as she swung herself out of the chair and into the passenger seat of the car.
Whelan met Traci on the driver’s side and squeezed her shoulder. “Plug in your phone, please. And, if it’s okay, I’ll come by after I get off work. In fact, I’ll bring dinner.”
“That’ll be nice,” she said.
Lola greeted the new houseguest with a marathon of tail-wagging, face-licking, and crotch-sniffing.
“Okay, girl, that’s enough,” Traci said, scooping her up and leading Felice to the guest bedroom. She opened the door and Felice slumped down onto the bed.
“You’ve got to be pretty beat,” Traci said, leaning against the doorjamb. She checked her watch. “It’s nearly noon. Did they give you anything to eat back in the ER?”
“Some Jell-O. And a couple cartons of Ensure. Bleahh.” A tear slowly rolled down her cheek, and she gestured at the bag of clothes she’d brought home from the hospital. “It just hit me again. That’s everything I own right now. Everything else is gone; my laptop, my notebooks with my recipes. My knives…”
Traci sat down on the edge of the bed. “I can’t imagine how you feel right now. But I promise, things will get better. Did you happen to upload your recipes to the cloud?”
Felice’s face brightened. “Yeah. Dropbox. I put everything there.”
“Great,” Traci said briskly. “Anything else you need, including a new laptop, we’ll order online.”
Felice nodded, but she still looked troubled.
“What else are you worried about?” Traci asked.
“I can’t just stay here with you,” Felice said. “It’s nice of you to invite me, but I need a place to stay. So I can get back to work.” She held up her gauze-wrapped hands. “As soon as I get these bandages off.”
“I was thinking about that while I was sitting out in that waiting room. It’s not a permanent solution, but it occurred to me, we have an executive suite at the hotel. Charlie used it sometimes, and I even stayed there for a few weeks, after my husband was killed and I couldn’t face coming back here.”
“Executive suite?”
“Like an apartment. There’s a bedroom, bathroom, living room, even a small kitchen. I was thinking you could move in there. And you can stay until we get the dorm rebuilt, or whatever you decide.”
“Really?” Felice’s expression brightened. “Why would you do that for me?”
“Because you’re the best chef we’ve ever had,” Traci said. “My husband’s mantra was hire the best and treat ’em right.” She laughed. “Okay, so maybe that doesn’t apply to KJ and Garrett, but it absolutely applies to you and Livvy. I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you working right here at the Saint.”
Felice yawned.
“Rest now,” Traci said.
She closed the guest room door and went into her own bedroom. She dropped her clothes on the floor, walked into the bathroom, and ran a hot shower. She sniffed a strand of her damp hair. Whelan was right. She smelled like smoke and ash.
After she’d dressed she went out to the kitchen and brewed herself a cup of tea. She’d intended to make a list of phone calls. There was so much to do. She glanced over at the phone she’d plugged into a charger, then resisted the urge to start making calls, start the search for a new general manager and new headwaiter. And probably, she sensed, she’d also have to look for a new guest relations manager.
Instead, when she pulled a pad of paper and a pen from a kitchen drawer, she started making a list of things to be grateful for. It was a coping mechanism she’d learned in therapy, after Hoke’s death, when every day seemed bleak and pointless.
Number one on the list was that Livvy and Felice were alive.
Two was that Shannon was back in her life again.
And number three? Easy. Whelan was number three, with a bullet. He was a good man.
Everything else in her life, and her work, she concluded, would take care of itself.