“My stuff?” Livvy asked, her lower lip trembling. “The pretty bedspread and comforter and pillows from Parrish?”
“I don’t know anything about that, honey,” Shannon said gently.
“Parrish’s stepmother, Madelyn, came to get her other things. She gave me the bedspread and stuff.”
“When was this?” Traci asked.
Livvy looked confused. “I’m not sure. Last week?”
“We’ll get new bedding,” Traci promised. “And we’ll rebuild the dorm. Better than before.”
Shannon touched her daughter’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go get my car and bring it up here, and then we’ll leave.”
Traci followed her outside to the ambulance bay. “She doesn’t remember any of it?”
“Like I said, it’s the drugs. Dr. Ochoa said it’s not uncommon. Doesn’t matter.”
Whelan pulled Traci’s car up beneath the porte cochere, jumped out, and went back inside to get Felice.
“Call me later, okay?” Shannon called over her shoulder as she walked toward the parking lot.
A moment later, Whelan came back with Felice’s wheelchair.
“I can walk,” Felice insisted as she swung herself out of the chair and into the passenger seat of the car.
Whelan met Traci on the driver’s side and squeezed her shoulder. “Plug in your phone, please. And, if it’s okay, I’ll come by after I get off work. In fact, I’ll bring dinner.”
“That’ll be nice,” she said.
Lola greeted the new houseguest with a marathon of tail-wagging, face-licking, and crotch-sniffing.
“Okay, girl, that’s enough,” Traci said, scooping her up and leading Felice to the guest bedroom. She opened the door and Felice slumped down onto the bed.
“You’ve got to be pretty beat,” Traci said, leaning against the doorjamb. She checked her watch. “It’s nearly noon. Did they give you anything to eat back in the ER?”
“Some Jell-O. And a couple cartons of Ensure. Bleahh.” A tear slowly rolled down her cheek, and she gestured at the bag of clothes she’d brought home from the hospital. “It just hit me again. That’s everything I own right now. Everything else is gone; my laptop, my notebooks with my recipes. My knives…”
Traci sat down on the edge of the bed. “I can’t imagine how you feel right now. But I promise, things will get better. Did you happen to upload your recipes to the cloud?”
Felice’s face brightened. “Yeah. Dropbox. I put everything there.”
“Great,” Traci said briskly. “Anything else you need, including a new laptop, we’ll order online.”
Felice nodded, but she still looked troubled.
“What else are you worried about?” Traci asked.
“I can’t just stay here with you,” Felice said. “It’s nice of you to invite me, but I need a place to stay. So I can get back to work.” She held up her gauze-wrapped hands. “As soon as I get these bandages off.”
“I was thinking about that while I was sitting out in that waiting room. It’s not a permanent solution, but it occurred to me, we have an executive suite at the hotel. Charlie used it sometimes, and I even stayed there for a few weeks, after my husband was killed and I couldn’t face coming back here.”
“Executive suite?”
“Like an apartment. There’s a bedroom, bathroom, living room, even a small kitchen. I was thinking you could move in there. And you can stay until we get the dorm rebuilt, or whatever you decide.”
“Really?” Felice’s expression brightened. “Why would you do that for me?”
“Because you’re the best chef we’ve ever had,” Traci said. “My husband’s mantra was hire the best and treat ’em right.” She laughed. “Okay, so maybe that doesn’t apply to KJ and Garrett, but it absolutely applies to you and Livvy. I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you working right here at the Saint.”
