Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
So she texted him and let him know where she was and that she might sleep here and go straight to the hospital to visit Clara in the morning. In the afternoon, she thought maybe she’d stop by the closed gallery and do some painting. She’d been working on two special pieces there, one for each of the twins, recreating what they’d each liked about the original canvas that had been destroyed.
Fallon might be good at painting but she was the worst at protecting her heart.
Chapter Nineteen
“Clara! You’re awake,” Fallon said, as she walked into the hospital room and found her boss and mentor sitting up and alert. “I brought you your favorite blend of tea.” She held the large cannister in her hands. “I didn’t think flowers that would make your allergies go crazy were a good idea. And I’m sure they’re monitoring your food. So… tea.”
“Thank you! I was running out at home. Don’t tell Oliver but I really prefer my own blend to his special tea. But enough about that. I understand you found me? I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come by.” She held out her hand for her to clasp.
She put the tea on the moveable tray and took the older woman’s fragile hand in hers. “Clara, I adore you. I’m just glad you’re going to be okay. Was it your heart?”
“No, actually. The tests came back the same as last time I had a checkup. My own cardiologist stopped by. But they’re rerunning blood tests. There was an abnormality or something and they want to retest to be sure. I didn’t pay much attention. I do know they’re giving me saline and flushing out my system. They want me to stay a few days but I’m just glad I’m finally feeling better.”
“Good. Make sure you follow the doctor’s orders. Has anyone contacted Oliver?” Or maybe the doorman told him about his mother’s collapse and to what hospital she’d been taken.
“No. I haven’t heard from him. When I sat up and was dizzy, I tried calling for him but he didn’t answer. And I passed out before I could get to my phone.”
“Well, you’re on the road to recovery and that’s what matters. Oliver will turn up.” He always does, she thought, but didn’t say as much out loud.
They sat and talked about the work that had been done in the gallery. “The insurance company promised to cut the check soon and as you know, I had workers in last week. You can see it today if you’d like to stop by,” Clara said.
Fallon nodded. “In the meantime, when I leave here I’ll call Sylvie and tell her we can open tomorrow!” Excitement fluttered in her belly at the thought. “I missed the place while we were gone.”
A knock sounded on the door. “Time to take your vitals, Mrs. Morganville,” a young nurse said.
“That’s my cue. You should nap when she’s finished.” Fallon bent over and kissed her cheek. “Take care and I’ll talk to you soon.”
She left the hospital and took an Uber to the gallery, unlocking the door and letting herself in. Since she wasn’t ready for customers, she locked the door, flipped on the lights, and walked through the gallery, pleased with the changes. Clara had obviously taken the opportunity to have the entire gallery side painted and new sconces put in over where the artwork would hang. For someone who’d been laid up in bed, she sure had been working behind the scenes or her decorator friend had. Either way, Fallon was in love with the new look.
Tomorrow she’d get started on checking in with their usual artists but today, she had some painting of her own to do. She set up at her favorite easel, turned music on loud on her cell phone, and settled in to paint for the girls.
As usual when she worked, she got lost in the color mixes, choices, and strokes. By the time she looked up and glanced at the clock on her phone, hours had passed and she had messages from Brooke, her brother, Remy, who she hadn’t spoken to in too long, and Dex’s wife, Samantha, who wanted to make lunch plans and catch up.
She spent a few minutes rinsing the brushes off in the back and setting them out to dry before walking back into the room. Something smelled off and she sniffed, then sniffed again.
She smelled smoke.
A glance at the door to the gallery, a door she knew she’d left open, was now shut and she rushed over and turned the knob. To her relief, it hadn’t self-locked and she flung it open only to see the room filling with smoke.
Slamming the door closed because the paints and removers in this room were flammable, she grabbed her bag and jacket and ran to the front door. She unlocked it and tried to push but it wouldn’t budge. Using her body weight, she flung her shoulder against the door to no avail.