She stepped outside to take it. The morning had started while she was inside—the sky going from black to the color it went before it remembered to be blue. The air was cold. She tucked her free hand under her elbow.
“Eleanor.”
“How is he?”
“He’s in surgery.” Margo watched a woman cross the lot carrying flowers and a balloon.
“How long?”
“Forty-three minutes.”
Eleanor paused. “And?”
“It’s a knee replacement, Eleanor.” She pulled her coat tighter against the wind. “They do them all the time.”
“Yes, they do them all the time. I’m just asking how he is.”
“I don’t know yet. He’s having surgery, Eleanor. I’m having coffee.” She took a sip before it could get any colder.
“How are YOU?”
Margo turned away from the wind.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Mm.”
“I don’t know what kind of question that is, Eleanor. I’m fine. I’m in a parking lot. I’m waiting. Don’t mm at me.”
“I didn’t mm.”
“You were about to.”
“Margo. Go back inside. Drink the bad coffee. Call me when he’s in recovery.”
Margo shifted her weight and looked at the sky, which had finally decided on blue. “Okay.”
“And eat something.”
“Goodbye, Eleanor.”
She put the phone in her pocket, stood outside for another minute, and went back in.
The surgeon came out at eight-twenty. Margo stood up, the book sliding off her lap.
“Ms. Turner?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Klein is in recovery. The surgery went well. Full knee replacement, no surprises. He’ll be in recovery for about an hour and then we’ll move him to a room. Six to eight weeks for full rehab, but he’ll be on his feet with a walker tomorrow.”
“That soon?”
“Tomorrow morning. We get them up early. Easier on the body.”
“Okay.”
“Any questions?”
