Page 4 of Peppermint Bark

“About ten minutes ago.”

He muttered a curse word. The bad one, the one that rhymes with duck. “Is this why my kid sister was calling so insistently?”

“That was me, calling from your sister’s phone. I work for her and I —”

“Let me get this straight: My dad fell. It might be a heart attack. Now my flaky sister’s assistant is interrupting my negotiation to tell me that she doesn’t have any details. Is that accurate?”

I felt like I was an inch tall. He grunted, ready to hang up.

Then I remembered: This was about Bruce. Not my feelings, not his ego.

“No, that’s not accurate. I was with your dad all morning,” I rushed, uncertain he’d let me finish. “He was sweaty and pale. The doctors used a defibrillator, this is serious.”

The silence was deafening. I wondered if he’d already hung up. I was ready to call back when he spoke, so calm it felt deadly. “Why were you with him?”

“He was at the hospital for a ceremonial ribbon cutting.”

“Shit, Mom told me about that. This is what he gets for being philanthropic.” He released a heavy, put-upon sigh. “He knows I’ve got this acquisition to finalize, and partnership promotions are in six weeks. I’m swamped.”

That ticked me off. Before I knew what came over me, I snapped, “Listen, you don’t want to regret not being here if something goes wrong, and your mother will need your strength. You should come home.”

The challenge buzzed like a tuning fork, vibrating across 2500 miles.

After a fraught silence, his voice was calm and detached, every consonant clipped. “Connor, give Lacey my work cell number so she can call back when she has more details. If she shares it with my sister and I get texts about my favorite boy band, I’m holding you accountable for getting me a new number.”

“Of course, sir,” his assistant said, startling me as Alexander hung up. “Are you still there?”

I wasn’t sure. I felt dismissed and devalued, like when I was scolded by my father for fidgeting at church. I touched my face to confirm I still existed. “His sister warned me, but nothing could have prepared me for that. Is he always like that?”

“Not always.” Connor rattled off a number which I scrawled onto a post-it.

I couldn’t help myself: I went all social-worker on my best-friend’s-brother’s-assistant. “You say he’s not always like that. What’s going on?”

When he hesitated, I said in my kindest voice, “Connor, today has been a nightmare. Bruce was doing me a favor when he collapsed and the doctors rushed him into emergency surgery and I don’t know if …” My breath hitched but I pushed through. “Then his ungrateful son bit my head off. I won't tattle. Heck, I’m probably never going to talk to him again after today.”

I wondered if Connor’s hands were tied. I didn’t intend to drag an innocent assistant into unnecessary drama, knowing assistants were often the hardest working, least acknowledged staff. I readied myself to apologize for asking him to divulge private information when he said, “Ok, Grace, here’s what we’re going to do.”

Chapter 2

Grace

I stayed with Mallory and Helen all afternoon in the waiting room, eating Thai takeout and playing countless games of UNO as I bit my fingernail to the quick — although Mallory’s somehow still looked perfect.

When the hospital surgical liaison confirmed the severity of Bruce’s heart attack, I asked Helen if she would prefer to call Alexander with the medical update or if I should. Her tear-brimmed eyes met mine and filled with gratitude.

In a terse follow-up call, Alex grilled me with a series of precise follow-up questions, as Connor had prepared me to expect, testing all my professional training in calm communication with family members, and hung up before I could ask about his plans.

That evening, Bruce’s family was called up to the cardiac ICU, and when I hesitated at the nurses’ station, Mallory gripped my hand and pulled me along. When I retracted my hand and gestured for her to lead the way, Mallory slid her arm through her mother’s as they walked into Bruce’s room. I washed my hands, giving them time without me loitering. They were his family, I was just his daughter’s friend.

Bruce’s skin was sallow, gray hair clumpy due to his awful surgical shower cap. He smiled groggily as his wife and daughter leaned down for a hug. Mallory, who normally could joke about anything, forced a tight smile.

“Mr. Clarke, I’m Carla, your overnight nurse,” she greeted as she washed her hands. She recognized me as a fellow staff member, her lips lifting before she pulled a flashlight out of her scrubs pocket to check his pupils. “You gave these women quite a scare. Can you tell me who they are?”

I braced myself. Carla was doing her job, trying to check her patient’s cognitive skills and memory while taking his vitals.

She couldn’t know how loaded her question was.

“The gorgeous one is my wife Helen. Her cute clone is my daughter Mallory. And over there,” his head flopped in my direction. No better time to get an honest opinion than after anesthesia, it’s practically truth serum. “That’s my Grace.”

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