Chapter 6: The Waiting Room

Odette came to my emergency room on Wednesday at six in the evening, which is the busiest hour we have.

The waiting area was full.

A man held a bag of ice against his jaw, and a mother held a feverish toddler on her lap.

Two teenagers sat in the corner passing a phone back and forth.

Odette walked through the sliding doors in a pale blue suit and her pearls, with a leather folder under her arm.

She looked around the room once.

Then she crossed it with her chin up, looking at no one.

"Kathleen, darling," she said. "There you are."

I stood at the triage desk in my scrubs with a clipboard in my hand.

"Mrs. Rask," I said. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Summer told Donovan you fell down the stairs on Tuesday night and were confused."

"Summer worries," Odette said, and smiled.

She was not stiff, or pale, or favoring either leg.

I put the clipboard down.

"What do you want, Odette?"

"A private word."

"I'm working. Anything you say can be said here."

The charge nurse behind me stopped typing.

Odette lowered her voice a little, which made no difference in a room that size.

"We have all been very patient," she said. "Donovan is ill, Lowell is under tremendous strain, and the family would like this resolved quietly."

She opened the folder and took out a cheque.

It was on the Rask Hotels account and already signed.

She turned it around and slid it across the desk.

The amount had been left blank.

"Name it," Odette said. "Within reason."

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