Of Flesh and Blood (56 page)

He paused. “I wasn’t aware.”

“Apparently not.” William kept his tone as polite and cordial as ever. “Allow me to enlighten you about something else. Since the Alfredson has an international reputation to protect, we have an in-house legal department that deals extremely effectively with any and all unfounded accusations. As well, we keep the two best civil litigating law firms in the Pacific Northwest on permanent retainer. Our success rate under such circumstances is nothing short of extraordinary.”

Rymer cleared his throat anxiously. “Listen, your threats might work on someone else, but I—”

“Mr. Rymer, what you reported today was inaccurate, defamatory, and libelous. We intend to bring the full weight of our legal resources down on
you and your newspaper. You might think you are impervious to such actions, but I promise you that your editor and publisher will not.”

Rymer didn’t reply immediately, but William could hear him breathing steadily on the other end of the line. “What do you want from me?” he asked petulantly.

“Your paper will print a front-page retraction of today’s story, apologizing for its inaccuracy.”

“My editor won’t—”

“And you will not write one more word about this hospital, my family, or the Stafford case ever again. Do you understand?”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Never have I been more!” William snapped, raising his voice for the first time. “Today you handed us a smoking gun. And we will not hesitate to use it. Rymer, you have picked the wrong hospital to misrepresent and sensationalize!”

William put down the receiver without waiting for a response. Though his spiel included a healthy dose of bluster, William did believe the Alfred-son’s case against the reporter and his newspaper would be strong. From experience, he suspected either the reporter or one of his bosses would flinch sooner than later, but he intended to leave nothing to chance. He snatched the sticky note with the phone number for the newspaper’s editor-in-chief off the edge of his computer screen. As he reached for the phone again, a voice called out from the doorway.

“Dad,” Erin said. “You got a minute?”

“Of course.” William rose from his chair with a stab of agony in his back, but he managed to hide the pain from his expression. He hobbled across the floor to meet her.

Erin put her arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. William broke free of the hug and led her to the seats at his desk. Though drawn, her face glowed with a familiar tranquility that he had not seen in a long while.

“I just saw Jill,” she announced.

“How is she?”

Erin shrugged. “Her vitals are stable, and her spirits are a little higher. But she still doesn’t look good. So weak and fragile.”

He nodded. “It’s going to take time.”

“Dad, she is so worried about her baby and what those antibiotics might do.”

“Can you blame her?”

“No. Not really.” Erin chewed her lower lip. “She’s not the only relative who has me worried, either.”

“Tyler?”

“You, Dad!” She ran her hand up and down to indicate him from the waist up. “You’re turning to skin and bones.”

William laughed self-consciously. “You know me, I’m not much of a cook. I have never eaten well since your mother died.”

“Are you eating at all?”

“I would be foolish not to. I get the wholesale price on everything in the cafeteria.”

“Dad, I’m serious. The stress of this job of yours . . .” She shook her head. “I think it’s killing you.”

He shifted in his seat, aware of the cancerous ache in his spine. “Erin, no question it has been a hard few weeks. Maybe I have lost a few pounds over this, but this is as stressful a time as I have gone through in this role. However, the end is in sight. Next week is the board meeting.”

“Are you still worried?”

He showed her a tired smile. “At this point, I just want it to be over.”

“I want to come to the meeting, Dad.”

William frowned. “It’s a meeting for board members only—the Alfred-son family.”

“You’re going, right?”

“Yes, but I am presenting to them.”

Erin held her hands open in front of her. “Our family has been running their hospital for more than a hundred years,” she said. “Don’t you think more than one McGrath deserves to be present at the meeting that will decide its fate?”

William’s heart warmed. He accepted that, as a father, he had not been nearly involved enough in her life, but no one could deny that his daughter had turned out exceptionally well. “You’re absolutely right. I would like you to be there. Your brother, too, if he is interested.”

“Count on it,” she said. “By the way, Dad, I operated on a stabbing victim in the ER last night.”

William smiled. “I heard you did well.”

“She’s doing all right.” Erin shrugged modestly. “I think I’m going to be able to return to work sooner than I thought.”

“And your carpal tunnel syndrome?”

Erin looked down at her hands. “Was never the issue.”

He nodded understandingly. “Of course, Erin.”

“It was Africa, Dad.” Her voice cracked. “Or, at least, something that happened to me over there . . .”

He sat still as he listened to his daughter describe the hellish assault and massacre she had survived in Nakuru. As Erin described her anxiety attacks and post-traumatic stress disorder that followed, William realized his worries over the Alfredson’s board meeting paled in comparison to what she had suffered. “Oh, Erin, how awful,” he said.

She wiped her moist eyes with the back of her hand. “Now that I’ve stopped trying to pretend it never happened, I’m doing a lot better, Daddy.”

Erin had not called him Daddy in years. William filled with even more affection for her. For a moment, he considered sharing his own secret about his bone cancer, but he held his tongue. It was not the right time.

Erin rose and headed for the door, but William stopped her. “You’re such a caring person, Erin. A wonderful daughter, wife, and mother. And the very best kind of doctor.” He paused and glanced down, embarrassed at his display of emotion. “I know I don’t say this often enough, but I am so proud of you. I always have been.” He nodded. “I always will be.”

She reached out and wrapped him in another hug. “Oh, Dad.”

As soon as she had gone, William checked his watch. He was late for his lunch meeting with Eileen Hutchins. He hurried out to the car, moving as fast as his damaged spine would allow.

By the time William reached the corner table at Le Bistro, Eileen Hutchins was already seated. She smiled politely as he sputtered an apology for his lateness.

“Glass of white?” she asked, holding up her own.

“Yes, thank you.”

Eileen signaled to a waiter, who hurried over to fill William a glass from the bottle on ice by the table.

She raised her glass. “What shall we drink to?”

William smiled wryly. “How about the past?”

Eileen laughed. “You can’t go wrong there, I suppose.”

They clinked glasses. “To the Alfredson’s storied past,” she said.

“At least no one can sell
that
.” William sighed. “Eileen, did you happen to see this morning’s paper?”

She nodded noncommittally.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, William. Mr. Rymer is a parasite of the worst kind.”

“His ‘facts’ were way off base. If it’s any consolation, I spoke with him earlier. I do not believe we will be seeing any more articles on the Alfredson or the McGraths.”

“That’s something, I suppose.”

“And we’ve managed to quash the
C. diff
story.” He updated her on the improved status of the superbug and the senator’s plans to publicly endorse his treatment at the Alfredson. She listened attentively, but her taut features showed little relief. “What is it, Eileen?”

Eileen reached in her pocket, extracted a piece of paper, and carefully unfolded it. William immediately recognized it as the one she had brought to his office that listed all the voting members on the Alfredson board. He saw that a few of the handwritten plus signs had been crossed out and replaced with minuses.

“We’ve lost some votes, have we?” he asked.

Eileen nodded. “I heard from one of my cousins in Seattle. He and his daughter have decided to vote in favor of the sale.” She reached out and patted William’s hand. “He said it has nothing to do with the recent publicity.”

“I wonder.” William glanced at her hand on his and smiled. “Where does that leave us?”

“Twenty-eight in favor, twenty-six against, and six unknowns.”

The news was bleak but not unexpected. “So we need at least four of the unknowns to vote against the motion to block the sale,” he said.

“Providing my count is accurate. Yes.”

William stared at his glass for a long moment. So many events had conspired against their cause recently that it seemed as though the hospital was destined to be sold and the McGraths’ ties to it severed. However, the growing inevitability no longer felt like the end of the world. He had come to see there were more important things in life.

He looked up and stared into her captivating eyes. “Eileen, after the board meeting is over—whatever the outcome—I wondered if maybe, sometime, you would consider having dinner with me?”

She flapped the page in her hand and laughed. “Not for more strategizing, I hope.”

William reddened. “Just dinner.”

“I would like that, William. I would like that very much.”

Lorna awoke at five
A.M
. burning with impatience and curiosity. The night before, three-quarters of the way through the Alfredson’s Spanish flu saga, Dot had suddenly arisen from the couch and announced she was going to bed, leaving Lorna in mid-story with Evan hovering by his gravely ill daughter’s bedside.

Lorna had an appointment to see her lawyer at eleven. She had intended to leave the mansion by six, without waiting for the old crone to rise. But her lawyer would have to wait; Dot’s information was too valuable.

Biding her time, Lorna sat at the desk of the guest room with her bag packed beside her. She stared at the screen of her laptop, reviewing the rapidly accumulating notes. Satisfied they were in order, she launched into a new chapter. Her fingers could barely keep up with the story as it unfolded on the screen.

Lorna smiled to herself as she reread the page she had just typed. She could not have invented better history. It possessed all the elements she had hoped to uncover and then some: secrets, life-and-death struggles, betrayal, and family conflict.

Perfect
. She smiled to herself. The years of writing academic papers that no one read would be behind her soon. This was a story people could not ignore. All she needed now was the right ending.

Shortly before eight o’clock, Lorna heard shuffling sounds downstairs. She quickly stowed her laptop inside her bag and headed down. In a sheer leopard-print robe that exposed her thin legs and knobby knees, Dot sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a pen in the other. In
front of her,
The New York Times
was opened to the crossword puzzle page. Dot finished inking in an answer before she even looked up at Lorna. “Good morning, darling. I thought I had already lost you
forever
.”

“I wanted to say thank-you. And, of course, good-bye.”

Dot studied Lorna with that amused twinkle in her eyes. “I am the one who should be thanking you.”

“For what, Dot?”

“Taking the time to humor an ancient relative and listen to her rambling stories.”

“I’ve been totally enthralled by those stories. You’ve completely changed my perspective on our family history and the Alfredson itself.”

“Oh, I’m delighted,” Dot said. “So you will be attending our little family gathering at the board meeting after all?”

“Absolutely.”

“That’s wonderful. All the family should be there to witness it.”

“Witness what?”

“The end of an era, darling!”

“The
end?
” Lorna said. “You think the family will vote to sell the Alfred-son?”

“Oh, it will be close, but of course we will.” She chuckled. “We Alfred-sons usually find a way to do the wrong thing.”

“I thought you said it didn’t matter to you one way or another how the family votes?”

“It doesn’t.” She looked back at her crossword puzzle and took the time to fill in a few more squares. “Besides, no one cares what this dotty old bird thinks. My opinion is completely irrelevant.” She sighed. “Perhaps I have not had the good decency to die off like the rest of my ilk, but I realize this is a decision for the younger generations.” She laughed again. “Still, I am
dying
to see how it all unfolds.”

Lorna intuited there had to be to more to it. Something in Dot’s devil-may-care attitude did not jibe with the passion with which she reveled in Marshall and Evan’s story. But Lorna had no time to worry about her great-aunt’s motives. “Dot, last night, you left Liv McGrath on her deathbed.”

Dot tapped her chin with the pen. “Ah, so it seemed, darling. Didn’t it?”

Only Fate conspired to prevent a marital union of the Alfredson and McGrath families that would have legally enshrined the deep bond the two families already shared.