Before Karen could respond, we arrived at the front entrance where Paul stood waiting. An elderly man with white hair stood next to him. Paul introduced him as Dr. Graham, an old family physician. I shook his hand but Karen rudely turned her back on him. Paul waved off the obvious snub saying Karen was upset. Dr. Graham nodded and returned to the hospital.
"Timmy has a gigantic lump and a cut on his head," Paul explained. "He's still sleeping but the doctor says his vital signs are close to normal. He's in ICU, just in case. It isn't a fracture but there was concern with some bleeding from the ears. It's now stopped. Do you want to peek in on him while I stay here with Karen?"
"No," I said. "This is a family matter. You go back. You should be there when Timmy wakes. Spend the night if you feel it's necessary. I'll stay with Karen."
Paul hesitated but he knew my suggestion had merit. "I'll only call if there's an emergency. He noticed how lightly I was dressed. "Thatcher is coming," he said to Karen. "Have him drive both of you back to the house. You'll freeze to death out here." Before he could explain his plans, a nurse waved from the doorway. She gave a thumbs-up sign.
"Go," both Karen and I said in unison and Paul entered the building.
"Who is Thatcher?" I asked.
"Thatcher Wright. He works for Daddy and fixes things."
"Can Thatcher fix me a hotel room? I'd really rather not stay at your house." I said it automatically without thinking. Did I selfishly hope Paul would slip into my hotel room for a quickie after news of Timmy's recovery? No, I didn't want to sleep with the ghost of my almost-lover's dead wife.
Karen nodded. "Thatcher can fix anything."
I opened my purse and wallet. Eighteen dollars, but I carried a credit card, albeit with a meager balance.
"Why do you carry under wear in there?" Karen asked peeking over my shoulder as I tried to stuff the lavender panties deeper.
"Just in case," I answered lamely as another white-haired gentleman drove up and alighted from the same limousine that had driven us to the hospital. He gave Karen a hug and extended his hand.
"Miss Blanding. I'm pleased to know you." He held the rear door for us and sat up in front. "Home," he said to the chauffeur and we were off.
"Mrs. Blanding wants a hotel," Karen said in a voice that offered no room for discussion. Just a room, I thought to myself, not the entire facility.