CHAPTER TWENTY
Jan Cummings slowly rapped her knuckles on the conference table, and it reminded Jack of a funeral dirge. He watched her glance up again at the clock.
“I hope to heaven he hasn’t had an accident,” she said.
Bentley cleared his throat. “Are we certain he knew the meeting was at ten?”
She snapped a glance at him. “Do you think I’d forget to convey that detail?”
“Should I try calling his assistant?” inquired Tré, sitting beside Jack.
“No,” Jack said. “Not yet. He’s probably stuck in traffic.”
“Sunday morning traffic jams in New Canterbury?” murmured Bentley. “There’s a novel concept.”
Jan sighed. “Martin, why don’t you read us what you’ve come up with for a press release.”
“Certainly.” The provost took up a sheet of paper. “This is just a draft. Here we go. Last night at eleven thirty-five p.m.—”
He was interrupted by Jan’s cell phone buzzing on the tabletop. “It’s him,” she said, pressing it to her ear. Jack watched her face. He did not like what he saw.
“You’re on the plane already?” Her lips tightened and she glanced upward. “Yes, of course. That’s true, but are you sure we can’t talk about this?” She paused. “I hope that you do realize what this means for us.” She caught Jack’s eyes and shook her head. “Right. Goodbye then.” Setting down the phone, she heaved a much longer sigh and looked away. Jack felt numb. He stared into the glare of the window.
“You obviously heard,” she said.
“It would have been nice of him to call before flying off,” Bentley started. “But I always feared this opportunity wouldn’t materialize.”
“Stop that,” said Jan. “It would have worked. If it weren’t for, as the Joan Baez song goes, a simple twist of fate.”
“Bob Dylan,” said Tré.
“Pardon?” asked Jan.
“Dylan actually wrote the song,” said Tré.
Jan gave the assistant a sharp, prolonged look. “Any other balloons you want to pop, young man?”
Tré’s cheeks colored deeply.
“Speaking of busted balloons,” said Bentley. “At least we have a parachute. Shall I go ahead and call Dr. Haines and get the HWA deal moving forward?”
Jan flared her nostrils. “I’ll do it. Meeting adjourned. Leave that press release with me.”
Jack opened his mouth. She held up her hand. “All of you, go.”
Late in the afternoon, Jack was sitting at the desk staring at a half-finished sentence on the computer screen. There was a knock, and the door swung open. It was Tré.
“I thought you’d gone home,” Jack said.
“Not yet,” Tré replied. “Anything I can help with?”
“No. I’m working on a letter to the medical center staff about the transition to Health Wealth Associates. I’d like them to hear it from me first. I’m going to stay till I finish.”
“Will you be taking tomorrow off, chief?”
“Tomorrow’s Monday. No.”
“It sounds like you haven’t slept much since Friday night. I’m sure people would understand.”
Jack leaned back in his chair. “I used to be an emergency doctor. I’m used to sleep deprivation. Go home. And you take tomorrow off. I’m serious. You’ve been here all weekend too.”
“Thanks for the offer but . . .” He stopped. Someone was entering the outer office. Jack heard a woman’s voice. “Ms. Kovalenko is here, chief.”
Jack inwardly groaned. “Okay. Show her in.”
Tré stepped aside and she entered. “Dr. Forester, I’m so glad I can catch you. I tried your number, but it goes right to word mail. The switchboard says you might be here.”
Jack tapped his phone. Nothing. The battery must have died. “My fault,” he said.
“Not your fault,” she said. “Listen, I leave very early tomorrow and I wanted to thank you again and to say goodbye. You are so kind, and I hope your plan with Mr. Falconi is still a great success.”
Jack sighed and shook his head.
“What is wrong?” she asked, looking from Jack to Tré and back.
“I’m afraid that won’t be happening.”
“Not happening?”
“You must not have heard the news this morning.”
“What news?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll just say that we’ve had complications. I can’t say any more now. And I shouldn’t keep you. Thanks for stopping by, and I wish you safe travels. I suggest you wait a couple of days and read the news before you write your story.” He rose and held out his hand. “It was nice to meet you.”
She paused, her brow furrowing. “I’m so very sad to hear this, Doctor.” She shook his hand. “I hope your complication can be overcome. But there is one more favor I must ask. I am certain that I dropped an earring in your car last evening.”
“I’ll find it and send it to you. Leave your address with Tré.”
“That is so kind, Dr. Forester, but it was one my mother gave to me, may she rest in peace. I couldn’t leave without it. I know you are busy, so may I borrow your keys to go look? I will, of course, bring them back.”
“You can if you’d like,” he said, reaching in his pocket. “It’s on the ground floor in section D. Third one on the right. You know what it looks like.”
“I can show you the way, Ms. Kovalenko,” said Tré.
“No, no, please, Mr. Tré. You both have helped me so much already. Absolutely no. But thank you. I can find.” She took the key fob from Jack.
“No need to bring it back,” Jack said. “Just leave it with the parking attendant.”
She stood there for a moment looking at him. There was a glint of moisture in her eyes. She gave him a sudden hug and went to Tré and did the same. Then she was gone.
Jack heard the phone on Tré’s desk ring. Tré went out. “It’s your aunt,” he called to Jack.
“Send it back. Then go home. That’s an order.” He picked up the receiver.
“Jack, your phone is going straight to voicemail.”
“Sorry. The battery died.”
“You should be more careful. But listen, something’s happened.”
Jack drew in a breath. “Is Tony all right?”
“Yes. It’s Julia. Don’t be alarmed. She’s had a little accident.”