“Not to worry. No time to pack.”
My next call was to my stylist, which went to voice mail.
“Hi, Rose. It’s Jacine Alexander. Just got back into town. Please curate a current West Coast wardrobe for night and day, including underwear as soon as possible. Oh, and I lost ten pounds, so size it accordingly. Since I’ll be at the hospital with Dad for most of the day, just drop off the collection at the house. Thanks.”
Anson drove to the entrance, and I didn’t wait for him to open the door, but barreled into the vehicle.
“The hospital, please, Anson.”
“Yes, Miss Alexander. But you should let me get the door.”
“New York changes a person. You become more self-reliant.”
“And quicker, too,” he said with a mischievous grin.
I smiled for the first time since starting this trip. Anson wasn’t just an employee. He was family. Anson worked for the Alexander family for as long as I could remember.
His tone dropped. “Is there news about Mr. Alexander? The staff won’t tell me.”
“My father didn't fill out that form?” I sputtered with exasperation. That irascible parent of mine had promised to sign and submit the medical information release before I left for New York. My father worked long hours and was not always accessible. Anson was my pipeline to keep track of my father.
“He may have, Miss. The hospital didn’t have it on file.”
I whipped out my iPhone and typed a message to Tobias Marshall, my father’s lawyer and best friend, and put him on the case.
Me: Hey, it’s Jacine. What’s the update with dad?
Tobias: I’m at the hospital now with your father.
Me: I’ll be there as soon as traffic permits.
Tobias: That was fast.
Me: Not fast enough. How is he?
Tobias: Trussed up with tubes and wires and spitting displeasure. But they want to keep him for a couple more days to do tests to make sure he doesn’t have any more blockages.
Me: Good.
Tobias: He’s worried about the business.
Me: Of course. But I'll handle it while he recovers.
Tobias: He doesn’t like it.
Me: Too damn bad. See you in a few.
“Anson, he’s fine. Cranky as usual. But they are keeping him to run tests.”
“Good. I worry about him, with his schedule.”
My light and breezy tone was a total lie, but it wouldn’t do to worry Anson. He took his duties too seriously. He still called me Miss Alexander and my father Mr. Alexander even though he worked for us for the past thirty years.
Anson turned the radio a light jazz station, and I worked on business emails during the drive. The work of Alexander and Wells Public Relations didn’t stop just because the CEO of the company was in the hospital. I sent a message to the head of our IT department and told him I needed access to my father’s email. I’m sure neither man would like that, but damn it, I’m determined that my father takes time off. He’s a strong man, but Anson is right, my father does work himself into the ground.
As soon as Anson pulled up, I dashed out. He would return to the entrance at my call when it was time to leave. This was so much better than cabs and walking in NYC. But here in LA, everyone drove. No one walked unless it was on the treadmill in the gym.
“Dad,” I said as I entered. I kissed him, and his mouth twisted slightly in distaste. He was onto me and knew I didn't come just to act the dutiful daughter. I gave Tobias a quick kiss on the cheek before I turned back to my father. Tobias’s hand lingered a little too long at my waist, but I shoved away that thought. My father deserved all my attention.
