Page 72 of Lillian

“Mommy?” Grace says, drawing my attention.

“Yeah, sweets?”

“My throat hurts,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I know, that’s why we’re here. We’re going to get you some medicine.” I hope, at least. Let it be just the flu or even strep. Though this is the first time I’m hearing about a sore throat, so probably not strep.

“Can we get ice cream after?” She bats her lashes at me. Ah, so maybe not a sore throat after all. Little brat knows how to get what she wants. And because she truly has been sick, I cave.

“Sure.”

She grins nice and big just as the door swings open and a young man in a white coat strolls through. Jesus Christ.

This is her doctor? He looks eighteen. Just out of med school.

“You must be Grace!” he says to my daughter. “Woah, that’s one big smile. Are you sure you’re sick?” he teases her, but to my horror, she shakes her head no.

“Yes, she is,” I interject so he doesn’t get the wrong idea. “She’s been sick all weekend. Coughing so much she can’t sleep.”

“Okay, well let's take a look then,” he says as he squirts out some hand sanitizer and rubs his hands together. “Any other symptoms, Mom?” He says as he walks over to Grace, takes something off the wall, and looks in one ear and then the other with it.

“She had a runny nose and a little bit of a fever the first day or two. Wouldn’t eat anything and just said something about a sore throat.”

He nods along with my words and tells Grace to open up and sayah.“There’s a little bit of redness, but nothing too bad.” With his fingers, he massages up and down Grace’s throat, checking for swelling. When he seems satisfied there, the stethoscope settles in his ears as he listens to her heart and lungs. “Big breath, Grace.” She breathes in on command, and as she exhales, she coughs again. It shouldn’t make me feel good that she does. But I want him to see what it sounds like so he can diagnose her properly.

“That doesn’t sound good, huh?” His words are said to Grace, and she giggles.

“Well, Mom, everything looks good. Obviously she’s got the cough and red throat. But has she gotten her appetite back? Been drinking plenty of fluids?” I nod. “Good. Just a small flu, you’re doing everything right. I’d give it another week or so and if the cough doesn’t disappear, come back and see us, okay?” He squirts more hand sanitizer and starts to leave.

“Wait. That’s it?” I ask incredulously.

“That’s it. Nothing we can do for the flu besides what you’re already doing. It’ll pass.” He gives me what I’m sure is meant to be an encouraging smile and then walks out the door.

Grace and I leave the office, and twenty minutes later, I still feel annoyed. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but whatever it was, it was more than that.

I pull up my favorites on my cell and hit call. It rings for a few minutes, and Lincoln answers in a tone that embodies exactly how I’m feeling. “Hey.”

“Woah. Bad day?” I grumble.

“You don’t know the half of it. I got fucking served. My dad and mom are suing Becca, trying to put her into a conservatorship.”

My mouth pops open in shock. “Can they even do that?”

A humorless laugh meets my question. “Of course, they can. She’s bipolar, and her entire trust fund is made up of their own money. With the incident at the ranch that just happened, it’s not even going to be that hard of a sell.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”What a damn day, I think.

I hear him take a big breath, and when he blows it out, his voice is calmer, more sure. “No, I’m taking care of it. The good news is the date isn’t for another month. So we have time to get a case put together. The bad news is I called the judge and the ranch and they both say Becca has to stay put until the hearing. So she can’t move in yet.” A pit forms in my stomach at the news. It feels like a bad omen, somehow.

“Ugh. Lincoln, I’m sorry. That sucks. Is she doing okay with the news?” I hope she’s okay. I’m not sure what kind of triggers bipolar disorder has. Maybe that’s something I should read up on…

“She seems okay. Annoyed more than anything.”

A half-hearted chuckle. “I get that. Well, let me know if I can help.”

“Thanks, Frasier.” I can hear the grin in his voice. “How’d the appointment go?”

I roll my eyes. “They said it’s the flu and to come back if it doesn’t improve.”

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