“Donovan, I think you should ask the doctor to make a house call.”
“I think you’re right,” Donovan said, stomping from the room, his shoulders rigid. He loped down the steps two at a time to the alcove where a phone sat on a small table. He flipped through the list of pages of Carol’s frequently called phone numbers and dialed. At three in the morning he wasn’t surprised to hear the doctor’s service pick up. “This is Donovan Mitchell. I need to speak to Dr. McGuire right away. This is an emergency. It’s about my daughter, Abby Mitchell. He did some laser work on her face yesterday and she’s running a skyhigh fever and the medication he gave us isn’t working.” The woman on the other end of the line said she’d try to get in touch with the doctor. “You won’t try,” Donovan lashed back at her. “You will get in touch with him. Right now, not two hours from now!”
Donovan slammed down the phone and raced upstairs. “I’m not sure, Carol, but I think the doctor is on his way.”
“That’s good, Donovan. Real good.”
“Don’t cry, Carol, I’ll be okay,” Abby said, her teeth chattering as she huddled beneath the electric blanket. “Is it bad?”
“It doesn’t look … you know … pretty, it’s kind of rawlooking. Puffy actually.”
“Did Connor call?”
“No, honey, he didn’t call back. He’ll probably try again in the morning. Or you can call him. Is the pain easing even a little?”
Abby closed her eyes and whimpered.
“I’ll kill that son of a bitch doctor when he gets here. This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Donovan seethed. “It’s going to be okay, Abby. Just hang on.”
“What if he doesn’t come, Donovan?”
“Then I’ll go and get him!”
Carol’s eyebrows shot upward. She nodded, knowing full well Donovan would do exactly what he said he would do. She felt pity for the unseen doctor as she watched Donovan stare at his watch. Abby continued to shiver beneath the electric blanket.
Thirty-seven minutes later the doorbell rang. Donovan’s feet barely touched the steps as he headed for the ground floor. He yanked open the door, and barked, “Follow me.”
Donovan and Carol huddled together while Bunny Webster, wiping sleep from her eyes, stood fearfully in the doorway.
“You said ‘sting,’ Dr. McGuire,” Donovan said. “Meaning it was going to sting when you applied the laser. You didn’t say anything about pain afterward. You used the word ‘discomfort.’ I think this is beyond discomfort. I don’t need a medical degree to know Abby has a massive infection. Abby is not a complainer. If she says her face and head are on fire, that’s exactly what she means. She has a fever and chills. Well?”
“You were right to call me, Mr. Mitchell. We need to get Abby to the hospital. I lasered too deeply. I’ll call for an ambulance.”
“Is she going to be all right?” Carol whispered.
The doctor stared at Carol for a long moment before he turned to leave the room without answering her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Abby sat on the sofa, doing her best to wrap a radio-controlled car for Bobby in shimmering gold-foil paper. Earlier in the week, she’d made a detailed list for Bunny, who’d done her Christmas shopping for her.
She felt as if she’d been to hell and back this last week. The doctor had prescribed massive doses of antibiotics and a privateduty nurse watching her round the clock. Her fever was gone, and the facial swelling was minimal. At times the pain had been unbearable, but her face was on the mend, and the pain was fast becoming a bad memory.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Abby?” Bunny asked.
“I’m fine.” Abby raised her head and smiled. “The worst is over. I can tell I’m starting to heal because my face itches.” She wrapped a length of ribbon around the awkwardly shaped box and held it tight until Bunny put her index finger in the middle of it. “This has got to be awfully boring for you. I really can manage myself, you know. Carol could probably use your help in the kitchen. Christmas Eve is the one day of the year she allows helpers into her lair. She fusses and frets all day long as she cooks. I would think she would be behind with all her preparations because of the time she spent going back and forth to the hospital to visit me. Go on, Bunny. I know you’re dying to help her. I’m okay. I’m just going to sit here on the sofa and wrap the last of these gifts. Then I’m going to sit back and admire this magnificent Christmas tree until it’s time to eat.”
Bunny clasped Abby’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re home. We were all so worried. I thought your family would go out of their minds. Donovan … I’m never sure what I should call him. Anyway, he really went to town on that doctor and the medical center. They listened to him, and man, did they hop around when he was in sight. I heard the words malpractice and lawsuits so many times I lost count.”
Abby smiled. “Most of the time Donovan is more bark than bite. I’m not saying he wouldn’t have followed through, but luckily things worked out. I sure would have hated to spend Christmas in the hospital.”
Bunny grinned. “I hope you’re up to talking to Connor when he calls tonight. I have to hand it to that guy, he’s called twice a day, every day, for updates on your condition. Last night when he called, I told him you’d be coming home this morning, and he sounded very relieved.”
“I begged the doctor to let me come home a few days ago, but he wanted to be absolutely sure everything was okay before releasing me. I suspect he was overly cautious because of Uncle Donovan. I really wanted to go to the mountains, too, but I’m just not up to it. You aren’t too disappointed we aren’t going, are you, Bunny?”
“Nope. I’m going to stay here with you, and we’re just going to hang out. I’m going to cook and bake and eat and sleep and watch television. When I’m not taking care of you, that is,” Bunny added hastily.
“Carol doesn’t want to go now because of me, but Donovan is making her because he doesn’t want to be a liar. We would have all been going but for me having to go back to the hospital. And I don’t need you to take care of me. I just want you to keep me company. This isn’t much of a Christmas vacation for you, is it?”
“Will you stop with all that? Believe it or not, I’m enjoying myself. This is the best, Abby. I really like your family. Everyone has made me feel so welcome. Don’t worry one little bit about me.” She gazed at the tree. “I can hardly wait to see what’s in all those presents. I never saw so many in my life.”
Abby laughed. “Carol starts shopping the day after Christmas for the following year. Donovan says she’s the queen of the shopping brigade. Sometimes I think she spends more time choosing the bows and wrapping paper than the presents.” Abby finished up the bow she’d been making and set the box aside. “There’s something about a red bow on a gold-wrapped box,” she said thoughtfully. “When my parents were alive, my mother just stuck the presents under the tree any which way. Mallory always got the most. On Christmas morning, she would get up before me and open my presents. Mama would say she could play with them until she got tired of them, then they would be mine.” She shook her head at the hurtful memory.
“That’s terrible!” Bunny said in outrage.
Abby picked up a rectangular box and laid it down on top of the Christmas paper. “I suppose it was. I cried a lot back then. I wasn’t much of a scrapper.”
Bunny glanced toward the kitchen, then whispered, “I probably shouldn’t ask this, but is your family rich?”
“I think so,” Abby said, looking sideways at Bunny. “The newspapers say Donovan’s a millionaire ten times over. Sometimes I hear Carol and Donovan talking about their investments, where to put what, that sort of thing. Why?”
Bunny shrugged. “I’m just nosy, I guess. This is an enormous house. Carol doesn’t work. School is expensive, and you aren’t going on student loans like I am. You said Donovan paid a fortune for your sister to go to a private school. I’ve never known anyone rich.”
Abby’s forehead wrinkled. “Does my family being rich both
er you?”
“No, of course not. But I have to admit I’m a little envious. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live in the lap of luxury.”
“This is all just stuff, Bunny,” Abby said, waving her arm expansively. “In the scheme of things, it isn’t important. At least to me it isn’t. You know I’m not materialistic.”
“Damn. Abby Mitchell, you are so well adjusted it makes me crazy.” Bunny hugged her knees and gazed at the Christmas tree. “Don’t you get melancholy at this time of year? Do you ever think about your parents and wonder what it would have been like if they hadn’t died?”
“Sure. I miss my father most of all. He was very good to me, and I know he loved me.” She paused a moment before speaking about her mother. “I don’t think I ever really knew my mother. I don’t have one good memory of her other than she was pretty.”
Bunny looked down at her hands. “You never talk about them. How come?”
Abby shrugged. “Because I can’t remember all that much.”
“How’d they die, if I might ask?”
“Carol told me my mother had some kind of rare heart problem. Her sister, Donovan’s first wife, had the same condition and died giving birth. Carol said when my father found my mother dead, he was so grief-stricken that he shot himself. Right after that we all left New Jersey and moved here. Donovan has never mentioned their deaths to me. Carol said she saved all the newspaper clippings if I ever wanted to read about it, but I’ve never wanted to. What’s the point? Every year Donovan gives me a new picture of my father, one I’ve never seen before. They were really good friends, more like brothers.”
“Oh, I just remembered,” Bunny said suddenly. “Donovan put your mail in your room, and said there’s a very impressivelooking letter addressed to your pseudonym. Aren’t you dying to know what it is? I mean—it could be another sale. That article you did on campus life or one of your short stories. There are also two letters from Oregon!”
“Two!” Abby squealed.
“Yep. Two. What are you going to open first?”
“Certainly not the one from the publisher. It could just as easily be a rejection letter, and you know it. You’re seen me get enough of them. Besides, I don’t feel like getting depressed on Christmas Eve. Where are Connor’s letters?”
“In your room,” Bunny said, obvious disappointment in her voice. “I’ll get them, then I’ll see about helping Carol in the kitchen. Where are Donovan and Bobby? I haven’t seen them in a long time.”
“I think they said they’d be in the garage. Hurry, Bunny. I want to read Connor’s letters.”
Bunny stood up. “You don’t want the one from the publisher then?”
“No,” Abby said, shaking her head. “I’ll look at it after New Year’s. I’ll be stronger by then and better able to deal with rejection.”
“All right.” Bunny sighed before rushing off. She was grinning from ear to ear when she came back. “They feel kind of mushy,” she said, handing them over. At Abby’s long-suffering look, Bunny headed for the kitchen. “Guess I’ll go help Carol.”
Bunny was still grinning when she entered the kitchen. “I think Abby is going to be okay, Mrs. Mitchell. She’s reading her mail. What can I do to help you?”
“Sit here and talk to me.”
Bunny looked at the kitchen clock. “Do you want me to drive Abby to the cemetery tomorrow or the day after?” Carol looked up from the pie crust she was rolling out, her face blank. “Did … did I say something wrong?”
“No. It’s just … why would you think Abby would want to go to the cemetery?”
Bunny flushed a bright red. “I’m sorry. My family always goes to the cemetery on Christmas to put flowers on my grandparents’ graves. I just assumed … I’m sorry.”
Carol slammed the rolling pin down on the piecrust. “It’s not a problem, Bunny. You just caught me off guard. Abby’s parents were cremated. Abby has her father’s urn in her closet. Donovan gave it to her when she was sixteen. Don’t fret, Bunny. You didn’t know.”
Bunny squirmed in her seat. “Abby never talks about her parents or her sister.”
“She was only five when they died,” Carol said as she carefully laid the piecrust in the glass dish. “I think it has all pretty much faded from her memory. She talks about her father from time to time, but the older she gets the less she speaks of him. She hardly ever talks about her mother. Basically, all she knows is Donovan and me when it comes to family. And then, of course, there’s Mallory. Do you like ambrosia?” she asked, adroitly changing the subject.
“I love ambrosia!” Bunny closed her eyes and licked her lips.
“That’s wonderful. You and Bobby can eat the whole thing. I always end up making four desserts because everyone likes something different. Donovan likes mince pie. I like strawberry rhubarb and Abby likes key lime. The same thing goes for dinner. Christmas is the one time of year when I make everyone’s favorite dish. Since you’re a guest, you get to sample everything.”
“Well, I can handle that. I’m not sure about my hips, though,” Bunny said, glancing around at the food-laden countertops. She’d never seen so much food in her entire life.
“That’s why you make a New Year’s resolution. You can diet then. By the way, we’ll be back from the mountains New Year’s Eve. We always like to spend it at home. I feel bad about leaving, but Donovan is insistent, and now that Abby is on the road to recovery … I’m glad you’re going to be with her, Bunny. I’ll feel much better knowing she isn’t alone.”
“Hey, Mom, come look,” Bobby said, poking his head in the door that led from the garage to the kitchen.
“Oh, my!” Carol said, peeking in at the new Jeep Bobby and Donovan had spent the last half hour trying to wrap.
Bunny walked up behind Carol and looked in. “Wow! How many rolls of paper did that take?”
“Nine!” Bobby said proudly.
“Don’t forget the six rolls of Scotch tape.” Donovan guffawed behind Bobby. “And the miles of ribbon that we curled ourselves. Do you think Abby will be surprised?”
“She won’t guess, will she, Mom?” Bobby asked.
Carol and Bunny burst out laughing.
“I think the wheels might give it away,” Bunny said as soon as she could catch her breath.
Donovan threw his hands up in the air. “We ran out of paper.”
“Mom,” Bobby pleaded. “Do you have a little more that you could give us. Just enough to cover the wheels on this side. Two wheels, Mom. That’s all.”
Carol groaned. “Oh, all right. It’s in the hall closet upstairs, but be quick about it. It’s almost dinnertime.”
As soon as Bobby was gone, Donovan inched toward Carol. “If we ever do this again, let’s just put a bow on it, okay? I don’t know about you two, but I’m ready for my first cup of holiday cheer. What do we have?”
Carol linked her arm around his. The past week had been trying, to say the least, but now, finally, things were getting back to normal. As to their argument over Mallory—neither one of them had mentioned it or her again, which was fine with Carol. “How about a beer?”
“Ah, a woman after my own heart.” He turned to close the door. “I never gift-wrapped a vehicle before. It got a little dicey when we got to the top.”
“Abby is going to love it. Her first car,” Carol said, sighing. “She’s going to want to drive back to school. You know that, Donovan.”
“I know, but she’ll understand why she can’t once I explain it to her. She’s a sensible girl. Are we packed?”
Carol opened the fridge. “We are,” she said, taking out a Corona and handing it to him. “How about you, Bunny?”
“Eggnog for me, please.”
Donovan reached for the bottle opener. “I’d like to get an early start. I’m glad we’re doing the Christmas Eve thing. Getting up at four in the morning and pretending I’m having a good time is not something I enjoy. We always look like bleary-eyed owls in the pictures you take, Carol. Wh
ere’s Abby?”
Carol opened a wine cooler for herself. “She’s in the living room, waiting for the phone to ring, no doubt,” she said.
In spite of her teasing tone, Bunny noticed the grim set to Carol’s jaw.
Bobby bounded into the kitchen, a roll of Christmas paper in his hand.
“Hurry up, sport,” Donovan said sternly. “Wrap those wheels, then get cleaned up. Shirt and tie.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Bobby grumbled as he peeled off a strip of tape. “She’s never going to guess it’s a car. She’s going to think we wrapped up that old refrigerator box. I just know she’s going to think this is a big joke. The joke’s going to be on her, right, Dad?” Bobby smacked his hands together the way he’d seen his father do.
“What a great Christmas Eve!” Donovan shouted after the last present had been opened.
“I second that,” Carol said.
“I got everything I wanted,” Bobby said, scooping up a pile of discarded wrapping paper, tissue, and ribbon and tossing it into the air over Abby and Bunny.
Abby got up and waded through the sea of presents to kiss each member of her family. “I hope we can do this every year. I love you all so very much.”
“Oh, jeez, my Corona’s empty,” Donovan said. “Abby, you’re up. Would you mind getting me another one from the fridge in the garage?”
At the door to the kitchen, she stopped and looked back. “Anyone else want anything while I’m up?” Receiving no other requests, she made her way to the garage.
The moment Abby was out of sight everyone scurried to the kitchen. When Abby squealed, they all shouted, “Merry Christmas, Abby!”
Abby stood staring at her new Jeep, too excited to speak. After all the lectures Carol and Donovan had given her on why she shouldn’t have a car of her own … and now this! Totally out of the blue. One of these days she’d have to ask them what changed their minds. It was probably Carol, she thought. Carol was the one who made the decisions.
The Guest List Page 10