Chapter 20: The Harold Weatherby Wing

The atrium of Riverbend Medical Center had been hung with white flowers and a gold banner.

THE HAROLD WEATHERBY WING FOR CANCER CARE.

Four hundred chairs faced a small stage, and a covered plaque stood on an easel beside it.

I came in through the staff door with my charge nurse and six nurses from the third floor, all in scrubs.

I was barred from foundation events, and I knew it.

Nobody asked me to leave, because I stood at the back with the nurses who staffed that unit.

Gabe stood at my shoulder in a charcoal suit.

The envelope was inside his jacket.

On the aisle, in the third row, sat the detective in her gray coat.

She did not look at us.

Diane crossed the stage to applause.

She wore champagne silk and the pearl earrings, and she carried no notes.

"Eleven years ago this month," Diane said, in her warm voice, "I lost my husband."

A soft murmur went through the rows.

"Harold believed that no one should face cancer alone."

"This wing is the last gift of a good man, and I am honored to carry it out."

Carlton sat in the front row, thin and pale in a dark suit.

Teagan sat beside him with her phone held low and her red light on.

"Before I unveil the plaque, I'd like to invite my stepson to say a few words about his father."

She turned and found Gabe at the back, and she smiled at him.

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