“It’s true,” Jorge said. “We had a patient in last week who was mugged leaving church. You’d have to be cold-blooded to mug an old dude leaving church.”
“Hear that?” Marjorie said, pointing at Jorge. “Muggedatchurch.”
“No one pushed me or mugged me. There was a spill on the floor, and I fell. It’s that ridiculous.”
“You didn’t break a hip, did you? Caroline Hix broke her hip and ended up in that terrible rehab place for three months.”
“Lucky me, I didn’t break anything but my air of aloof sophistication,” Frances muttered.
“Well, good. Let’s go, then. Dan has come to drive us. Oh, I forgot myself. Dan, say hello to Frances.”
Dan said obediently, “Hello, Frances. Now are you the one no one wants to play pickleball with? Or is that someone else?”
“For God’s sake, Dan,” Marjorie said.
“Hey, what’s this do?” Dan asked, pointing at Frances’s heart rate monitor. “This tells you what, the heart rate?”
“Among other things,” Jorge said, and walked over to point a few things out.
“He’s forever, huh?” Frances whispered. “And thanks a lot, Marjorie. It wasn’t enough to be trash-talked at the club. Now I can enjoy it at Silver Oak Towers, too.”
“What can I say? It’s a good story for our dinner table,” Marjorie said innocently.
Frances glanced at Dan, who was leaning forward to get a good look at the heart monitor. She thought she would prefer a cab or an Uber.
“Before I forget, I gave Aaron a heads-up about your fall,” Marjorie went on. “I told him I’d call him to let him know how you are.”
A swell of panic added to Frances’s nausea. “For shit’s sake, Marjorie, you called myson?” She immediately winced at the pain in her head that outburst caused. Her stomach roiled. Aaron was such a good son, he’d be on the first plane out of Omaha. “I don’t want to worry him.”
“I had to call him, Frances. His mother is in the hospital! Dying, for all he knows.”
“You might have at least checked to see if I was dying first. What did he say?”
“I told him you had a head injury, and he said he’d look at flights, but to call him the minute I knew something.”
“Call him right now and tell him I don’t have a head injury,” Frances insisted. Aaron was already making noises about not liking her in Houston on her own. He wanted her to move close to him and his family. To Omaha.
A young woman with a high ponytail entered the room. She reminded Frances of her granddaughter, and for a moment, she thought the young woman was in the wrong room. But then Jorge said, “Do you need me, Dr. McPherson?”
Frances was taken aback. This young woman looked far too young to be offering medical prognoses. “If you could get a blood draw ready. Thanks, Jorge.”
“I already had blood drawn,” Frances said.
“I need a little more.”
Frances was immediately suspicious. Her experience with Nick had taught her that no one asked for more blood unless they were fishing for something. “Why?”
But the teen pretend doctor smiled prettily and said, “Hi, Mrs. Deluca. I’m Dr. McPherson.”
“Howoldare you?” Marjorie asked, her voice full of wonder.
“Marjorie,” Frances hissed, then looked at the doctor and hoped she’d answer.
“Old enough to have a medical license,” Dr. McPherson assured them. “Could I ask that the room be cleared for a moment? I’d like to speak with Mrs. Deluca.”
“Oh.” Marjorie seemed surprised. “Why, is something wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” Frances said.
