Chapter Twenty-Nine
LOGAN
I didn't know why I had thought this was a good idea.
To be fair, the idea wasn't even mine, but Evelyn's—a way to practice for my interview in a low-pressure setting while including the girls. At least they were having fun. For me, it was proving to be a unique challenge.
Across from me, Anna stared with defiant intensity. She even raised her eyebrows, waiting for my answer. And I couldn't for the life of me remember the question.
“Could you repeat that, please, Anna?” I asked.
“Miss Bean,” she corrected me, emphasizing the surname.
“My apologies. Could you repeat that, please, Miss Bean?”
“I want you to tell us what you think you can contribute to our hospital, especially in the health sector of... nephronology.”
“Neurology,” Evelyn gently corrected from beside her, struggling to hold back her laughter.
All the questions had been prepared by Evelyn. She’d written them on slips of paper for the girls to draw, and they took turns reading them across the dining room table. We were conducting a mock interview for my hospital position, scheduled for the next day.
“Well... what I have to add, especially to the... nephronology sector...” I began to laugh, but the three of them remained utterly serious.
Anna scolded me. “You’re not taking this seriously, Dr. Turner. I think we’ll have to replace you with another doctor.”
“My sincerest apologies, Miss Bean. To answer your question, what I have to add to the Neurology department is...” I launched into the well-rehearsed speech I had prepared, detailing my research and vision.
Anna and Aurora stared intently, nodding with grave expressions as if they understood every single word. They were taking their roles far too seriously.
Next, Evelyn opened the final question, dictating it slowly to Aurora until she had memorized it. Rory then turned to me and asked the question in sign language. I’d heard Evelyn dictate it, but I still concentrated on each sign, trying to learn.
“You want to know about my previous work, don’t you?” As I spoke, I managed to sign “a little” and “previous”—words I’d recently learned.
When Rory nodded, a faint smile touched her lips. It appeared again when I incorporated a few more signs into my answer. They were still few, but I prided myself on learning quickly. I hoped that soon, I wouldn't need an interpreter to understand everything she said.
When I finished, the two finally broke character, applauding the fact that I’d answered all their questions.
“I liked that,” Anna declared. “When I grow up, I want to be an intreviewer.”
“‘Interviewer,’” Evelyn corrected, laughing. “I think you’d be brilliant at that, Anna.”
“Excellent, even,” I added. “You’re very good at making the interviewee nervous.”
Aurora signed something, and Evelyn translated: “She wants to know if she was also good at asking the questions.”
“You were more than great,” I replied, looking directly at her. “I don’t know which of you was more amazing.”
Anna then asked, “This is so you can get that thing… the what’s-it-called?”
“Badge?” I suggested, and she nodded. “That’s right. It means I’ll keep working at the hospital here, and we can live in New York for good. We’ll have our own place.”
Anna’s smile faded, replaced by a worried look. “But we can’t live here. It’s too far away, and Mom won’t find us.”
Evelyn was quick to reassure her. “Yes, she will, my love. We’ll let her know exactly where you are, don’t worry.”
Seemingly relieved, Anna nodded. Then, she translated for her sister: “Rory wants to know if, when Mom gets back, we’ll all live together.”
“No, sweetheart,” I explained. “But you will have two homes. One with your mother, and one with me.”
Then Anna asked one more question: “With you and Evy, right?”
Though unintentional, her words cast a sudden, palpable awkwardness between Evelyn and me. Nearly a month had passed since our charade began in that hotel. The payment was already in her account, and in a few more weeks, our agreement would end, and she would leave.
But I didn’t want her to go.
I was about to say something—what, I wasn't sure—when the front door opened and the Holloways returned, bustling in with their suitcases. As they began excitedly recounting their trip, my phone rang.
I glanced at the screen. It was my mother, likely with news about Bonnie.
Excusing myself, I slipped into the quieter hallway to answer. “Hi, Mom. How are things there?”
“They’re bad, dear. Really bad. Unfortunately, I’m not calling with good news.”
When she told me Bonnie had passed, even though it was expected, it still took a moment for the words to settle. As a doctor, death was a professional acquaintance, but it was entirely different when it touched someone close to you—or someone who should have been close.
Bonnie had been married to my brother for years. She was friendly, witty, had an easy laugh, and she was the love of Sebastian’s life. What else did I know? In recent years, I’d rarely been around. I’d never given myself the chance to truly know the most important person in my brother’s world.
And now, regret washed over me in a cold, bitter wave.
“How is Sebastian?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Like a man who’s lost his true love. Completely devastated. The funeral is tomorrow. Michael and I are helping with the arrangements. Sebastian... well, he’s in no state to make decisions. We’ve barely heard his voice.”
“I understand. I’m so sorry, Mom. I really am.”
“I know, dear. Give my granddaughters a kiss for me. Tell them Grandma misses them and loves them very much. I know they barely know me, but... please tell them. And I love you too, my son.”
“I love you too, Mom. And you can tell the girls yourself. We’ll pack our bags and catch the first flight to Los Angeles.”
“Really?” She could barely conceal her surprise, probably thinking my interview would keep me away. “It will be so good to have you here.”
“See you tomorrow, Mom.”
When I hung up, it took me a few moments to compose myself. I felt the hot sting of tears and didn't want to break down in front of the girls.
After a steadying breath, I returned to the living room.
Anna and Aurora were on the rug, already opening presents the Holloways had likely brought.
As I approached, Evelyn, John, and Carol turned to me.
They had been chatting about their trip, but they fell silent, their expressions shifting as they took in my own.
“There’s been a family emergency,” I said, my voice tighter than I intended. “My sister-in-law, my older brother’s wife… passed away.”
The Holloways immediately began offering their condolences, their voices a soft murmur of sympathy. Evelyn said nothing. She simply stood and wrapped her arms around me, and in her embrace, I felt a wave of grounding warmth.
As we stepped aside, I asked her, “Can you help me pack the girls' bags? I need to find us a flight to Los Angeles. Tonight, if possible, but tomorrow morning at the latest.”
She nodded without hesitation. The Holloways, however, exchanged confused glances.
“Wouldn't a late afternoon flight suffice?” Carol suggested gently. “We could try to move your interview up a few hours.”
“No. The funeral is in the early afternoon. It’s nearly a six-hour flight.”
“But… the interview is tomorrow,” John insisted, his tone growing more urgent. “The entire board has confirmed. Some are cutting their own trips short specifically for you.”
“And I am sorry to disappoint you, Dr. Holloway.”
“It’s not about disappointment,” he countered, frustration edging his voice. “It’s about feasibility. Rescheduling with this many senior staff… it may not be possible.”
“Again, my apologies.” I kept my voice level, but my resolve was solid. “But as you told me when you left for Christmas, family is the most important thing. I will not abandon my brother at a time like this. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have flights to book.”
As I walked away, I could hear Carol and John murmuring about a missed opportunity, a chance I might never get again.
At any other time, their words would have filled me with dread. But the loss of a family member—someone so young, a life that defied the natural order—put everything into a stark, clear perspective. It forced me, once again in a short period, to rethink my priorities.
And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, more important to me than being with my brother.