He left as a woman in dark blue scrubs knocked on the door. “I’ve brought dinner for Mr. Franklin.”
“I didn’t order that,” growled Franklin.
“No,” said Jacine. “I did. You’ve been giving the nurses a hard time about eating. Oh, I got an earful about you at the desk, and if you keep being bad, I’m going to hire a nurse to follow you around the house during your recovery.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes. I will. Franklin and Wells have some big clients to care for, and I don’t want you alone in that big house.”
“Ugh.” The nurse placed the tray in front of the patient.
“What is this?” he said.
“A nice Caesar Chicken Salad,” said Jacine.
“There is nothing nice about this. Look at it. This is an appetizer, not dinner.”
I sympathized with Franklin. Used to being in charge, having his daughter run herd on him must annoy him.
“I’m tired,” he complained. “Come back later. I’m going to take a nap.”
“Dad!”
“What? Like half-wilted lettuce and overcooked chicken will go bad? Dys, get my daughter out of here. Take her to dinner or something.”
Jacine sighed and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.
“I’ll be back later.”
She walked out of the room, but before I could follow her, he grabbed my arm.
“Keep her busy, Dys.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
