nodded to the nurse. “We’ll take it from here.”
Terry patted the elderly woman. “You listen to the doc now, Mrs. Jefferson. Everything will be fine.”
“Thank you, dear. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t count on you.” The woman beamed at the paramedics.
He flashed a glance at Terry, who was fanning her flushed face. Her red curls were damp with perspiration and her neat navy shirt was wrinkled. “Stick around for a few minutes. I’d like to speak to you.”
She nodded, and he helped push the stretcher back to an exam room.
It didn’t take more than a few minutes to determine what he’d already suspected—there was nothing wrong with the woman that merited a trip to the emergency room. The fact that the nurse also knew Mrs. Jefferson well enough to know she’d like grape juice just confirmed it. He left the woman happily drinking her grape juice and went in search of the paramedics team.
He caught up with Terry in the hallway. “Where’s your partner?”
She swung toward him, resting a frosty water bottle against her temple. “Jeff’s restocking the unit. Do you want me to get him?”
“Not necessary. I can say what I need to say to you.” And he shouldn’t be noticing how those damp red curls clung to her skin. Terry didn’t mean anything to him except an obstacle to be overcome. “That woman shouldn’t have been brought to the E.R. There’s nothing wrong with her.”
“That decision isn’t really up to the paramedics, is it? We don’t practice medicine.”
He glanced around, but no one was in earshot. “Are you throwing my words back at me?”
Terry’s face crinkled into a sudden smile. “Sorry. It’s just that we all know Mrs. Jefferson is a frequent flyer.”
“Frequent flyer?” He understood, all right, although he hadn’t heard them called that—those people who called the paramedics when they got lonely or needed attention.
“Look, she lives alone in a third-floor walk-up and her air conditioner just broke. I suppose she got a little scared. Anybody might in this heat. It happens.”
“I know it happens, but it shouldn’t.” This was exactly the sort of thing Morley had been talking about. “It wastes the hospital’s resources.”
Terry looked unimpressed. “I don’t work for the hospital, I work for the city.”
He planted his hands on his hips. It was probably a good thing, for Terry’s sake, that she didn’t work for the hospital.
“That’s not the point. We have to cut costs in the E.R., and every patient that’s brought in here for no reason eats into our budget.”
“She probably doesn’t need a thing except to rest in a cool place for a while. That’s not going to take any of your budget.”
“She can find a cool place in a movie theater.” He stopped short, realizing he was letting himself get into an argument with a paramedic. “Take her home. Now.”
Terry looked at him as if she could hardly believe her ears. “You can’t expect us to haul her back to that hot apartment now. Give me a few hours. I’ll call Brendan and see if he can’t get someone to donate a new air conditioner.”
Brendan Flanagan, her minister cousin. The board member. Being caught between a board member and the hospital administrator was not a good place to be. For a moment longer he glared at Terry, annoyed at her ability to put him on the spot.
But this was a no-win situation. “All right. But she’s not staying for supper. You and your partner get back here for her before five, or I’ll call her a cab.”
“Right. We’ll do that.” She spun, obviously not eager to spend any more time in his company.
He stood for a moment, watching the trim, uniformed figure making for the door. At the last moment she stopped, turned and pulled something from her pocket.
She came back to him and held out a folded slip of paper. “I nearly forgot to give you this.” She stuffed it in his hand and hurried out the door.
Jake unfolded the paper. It was a carefully drawn map, designed to take him to the Flanagan picnic on Sunday.
He didn’t suppose he could get out of that picnic without offending several people, including one who was on the hospital board. But he suspected that, if Terry had anything to say about it, he wasn’t going to enjoy himself.
The hot day had given way to a sticky, humid evening, with clouds thickening. A shower would be nice, Terry thought hopefully as she slid out of the car. But if they did get one this time of year, it would be a thunderstorm. She walked toward the back door of the comfortable house that had sheltered three generations of Flanagans.
Mom was in the kitchen, wiping cookie dough off the table. The aroma of chocolate chip cookies filled the air, and red geraniums rioted on the windowsills. She looked up, smiling as always. Mom always made you feel as if you were the best thing she’d seen all day.
Terry put one arm around her mother’s waist while snagging a handful of still-warm cookies with the other hand.
Mom kissed her cheek and gave a laughing swipe at her hand. “Someday you’re not going to be able to eat like that, Terry.”
“Then I’d better take advantage of it while I can. Umm.” She slid onto the stool next to the pine table. “Which of your grandchildren do I have to thank for the cookie baking today?”
“Mary Kate dropped the children off while she did some shopping. She’s insisting she has to look for a job, and she needs some interview clothes that make her look like a physical therapist instead of a mom.”
Terry sank down on the kitchen stool. “That wasn’t the life she and Kenny had planned. They always felt it so important that she stay home with the children.”
“Life changes when we least expect it.” Her mother took a package of chicken from the refrigerator and opened it. “Losing Kenny hit Mary Kate hard. She hasn’t discovered all her strength yet.”
Terry blinked. “What do you mean? She always seems to keep her feelings under control.”
“I’m not sure what I mean.” The admission was unusual for Mom, who’d always seemed the source of all answers to Terry. “At first I thought she was coping well with Kenny’s death. Now, I’m not so sure. She’s hiding something behind that cheerful face she puts on.”
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