“Is she…?” Charleigh can’t force herself to mutter the rest ofthe question out loud.
“She’s still with us, thank God in heaven,” Kathleen says, her voice trembling. “But it’sbad.”
Charleigh’s throat turns to dust. “Whathappened? Nellie justsaid it was an accident, an awful one, and then I rushed out the door—”
“Apparently”—Kathleen’s eyes whisk around the room as if she’s about to tell something she’s not supposed to—“Blair had just smoked some pot, and…she dove off the roof of the old boathouse. And the exact second she was about to hit the water, a loose canoe floated out, and she landed on that instead—”
“Oh, my God!” Charleigh sucks in a sharp, dramatic breath, covers her mouth with her hand in horror. Even though right now all she feels is relief. Thiswasan accident. At least she thinks so. “That’sterrible. What are the odds?”
“I know. Monica’s in there with her right now. In the ICU. And,” Kathleen adds, her voice wobbling again, “she’s in a coma.”
“A coma? God, that’s awful! Poor Monica! I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling!” Tears gush into Charleigh’s eyes. Tears of empathy, of sadness, but also tears of relief. “Wasthere anybody by the canoe? How, I wonder, did it come undone?”
Kathleen’s face screws up in confusion—mixed with a little suspicion. “Umm. I’m not sure? I think it’s just one of those freak things—”
“Yeah, of course,” Charleigh says quickly, hopefully covering her misstep. Thank God Kathleen’s no genius.
“Her head injury is pretty severe, according to what the doctors told Chip.”
Charleigh glances over at him and feels awful. His face is mottled red, his hands tunneled in the pockets of his golfing shorts.
“Do they think she’ll make it?” Charleigh whispers.
“It’s too soon to know. But they said there’s hope. So we’re all about to do a prayer chain.”
That’s Charleigh’s cue to go.
At least she and Nellie are in the clear.
And obviously she will pray, in her own way, that Blair pulls through.
“I gotta get back home to Nellie. She was pretty shaken up over this.” She leans in to hug Kathleen. “But call me the sec there’s any update, okay?”
“I will.” Kathleen rubs circles over Charleigh’s back as if she’s consoling a small child. Charleigh pries herself away, scurries out the door.
64
Charleigh
Charleigh’s entire body sags with relief when she pulls into her drive.
An unmoored canoe that drifted out, precisely at the wrong second. A freak accident. Nothing to do with her child, then.
She takes a moment to herself before opening the door. Exhales, regains composure.
Alexander’s Wagoneer is still gone, and she’s grateful. She’s not in the mood to be peppered by questions from him, because she’s certain he’ll instantly have the same suspicions that she did about Nellie being involved. But she’ll never admit that. The whole shock-and-denial game is too exhausting for her to deal with right now.
She needs to be a calm, solid, nurturing support for Nellie, who must still be so rattled.
She steps inside her grand foyer, sandaled heels clicking along the tiles, and cocks an ear up the staircase.
Running water. Nellie’s in the shower.
Good, she can wash all that disturbing blood off her, distance herself from this completely.
Charleigh drifts into the kitchen, cracks open the fridge. Extracts an icy cold bottle of chardonnay. To mix a margarita right now seems too festive, so she’s going for the more reserved choice.
She fills a glass to the lip, nearly slopping some on her wrist as she guides it down her throat, but God damn it, sheneedsevery drop.
