“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” She eagerly took the glass of wine. That first sip was heaven. The second burned deliciously going down. And the third warmed her entire body, all the way out to the tips of her fingers.
“I hate all of the exposure that guy’s getting.” Ben cocked a hip against the counter and poured himself a glass of the late harvest into crystal Tabitha recognized as a wedding present. Had he really kept that set from so long ago? She figured it would have been sold at a garage sale by now, or at least made its way into a donation pile. “It’s almost as though they forget that there were four other guys on the boat.”
Tabitha hadn’t forgotten. She coughed softly to combat the acid from a large gulp that tried to drown out more than words.
“Do you think they’ll end up releasing their identities?” Ben asked. “I mean, they’ll have to if there is any sort of criminal investigation, right?”
“To my knowledge there isn’t going to be one. They weren’t actively hunting the sharks, and they have little proof that that was even their intent.”
“Well, I’m just glad the boat was found and that, from the sounds of it, their injuries and ailments were pretty minor.” He stepped closer to his ex-wife, picking up on something. Her stress, maybe? His tender gaze searched her out without landing on the true reason for her tension. “But I know it’s been chaos at the hospital, and that environment is never fun to work in. Hopefully in a few days all of the excitement will die down and things will get back to normal.”
There never truly was a ‘normal’ to the ER, but Tabitha would gladly welcome moving forward from this particular emergency.
She just had a sneaking hunch things were about to get more chaotic, not less.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Camille hardly recognized the sound of the landline. Truthfully, she wasn’t even aware The Getaway had one, let alone one in working order.
She folded the last towel, still warm from the dryer, and added it to the fresh stack.
The phone trilled again, sharp and blaring.
“You gonna get that, Millie?” Skip hollered from the reading room. That old sailor always had his nose in a book.
“If I can find it.”
“In the kitchen. On the wall by the fridge.”
Camille worked her way through the house, her hand landing on the receiver by the seventh ring, the time when most people would opt to hang up. The caller on the end of this line had a patience Camille would never be able to summon.
She lifted the phone to her ear. “Hello. You’ve reached The Getaway House.”
“Hi, yes. I’m looking for a Foster Spaulding.”
A little odd, but Camille supposed hedidlive here now and was welcome to receive phone calls. She shrugged. “He’s not here at the moment, but I can give him a message. Or I can give you his cellphone number if you’d like to try that.”
“We’ve attempted to reach him via cellphone, but with no luck. A message would be great.”
The long, curly cord tangled around her when she moved to the nearby drawer to grab a pen and paper to jot the information down. For a moment, Camille worried this was some scammer calling about an extended warranty on his truck, but that fleeting fear was cut short when they said, “Can you please have him call Seascape Shores General, extension six at his first opportunity? He can ask for Patricia.”
Camille’s chin pulled back, her pen stalling over the paper. Why would the hospital be calling for Foster?
“Would you be able to pass along that message?” the caller repeated.
She abandoned the notepad. She wouldn’t need it. She would definitely remember to pass this information along. “Yes. I will do that. Of course.”
“Thank you. Appreciate it. Have a great day.”
More like have a confusing day,Camille thought as she returned the receiver to its cradle.
True to form, Camille’s thoughts set off on a spiral, worst case scenarios sweeping through her overactive brain.
Was he sick? Was this call in reply to a recent appointment? When he’d told her he had to lock up at the construction site the other day, had that been a coverup for something else? Even today, was he really at the preschool repairing a drywall issue, or was he at the hospital, having more tests run?
No. She shook her head side to side briskly. He wasn’t at the hospital. They wouldn’t be calling if he was already there.
That truth softened the edges of her worry slightly, but not enough to keep her mind from running through all the possibilities.
