While My Sister Sleeps

When Molly returned to Snow Hill, the parking lot was filled with customers’ cars. Slipping inside, she took the back stairway to her office and closed the door. She shooed one cat from her chair and another from the keyboard, then sat and folded her hands.

She didn’t want to be here, but her father had asked. And besides easing her guilt, Molly wanted to help. She could fight it long and hard, but pleasing Kathryn had always been high on her list.

Right now, Kathryn wanted her to work. So, dutifully, she logged on and pulled up her calendar for the week. Today and tomorrow were for ordering, but Thursday she was supposed to follow up her mother’s speech at a women’s club in Lebanon with a how-to on making dish gardens. Obviously, they couldn’t go. What excuse to give? Same with a pruning demonstration in Plymouth. And Friday’s appearance at WMUR in Manchester? Molly hated being on TV, even with Kathryn doing the talking. Television made her eyes look too close, her nose too short, her mouth too wide. She had experimented wearing her hair back versus loose, wearing trousers versus jeans, wearing blue versus purple or green. No matter what, she paled beside Kathryn.

Neither of them would be up to doing TV on Friday so her father could cancel that one.

Her intercom buzzed. ‘Any news?’ Tami asked.

‘Not yet,’ Molly replied, feeling disingenuous. ‘We’re waiting for more tests.’

‘Joaquin was asking. He was worried when he didn’t see either of your parents’ cars. They usually get here early after they’ve been away.’

Joaquin Pea was Snow Hill’s facilities man. Not only did he maintain the buildings and grounds, but because he lived on-site, he handled after-hours emergencies.

Joaquin adored Robin.

Tell him she’ll be fine, Molly wanted to say, but the MRI mocked that claim. So she simply said, ‘Dad’ll be here later,’ which begged the question of what to tell Joaquin or anyone else who might ask about Robin. But Charlie was good at this. Wasn’t he their PR man?

Ending the call, she sorted through the requisition forms she had collected at yesterday’s meeting. With fall planting season under way, Snow Hill’s tree and shrub man had a list. Their functions person had booked three new weddings and two showers, and the retail store was gearing up for October’s opening of the wreath room, all of which required special ordering. And then there was Liz Tocci, the in-house landscape designer and total pain in the butt, who was arguing–yet again–in favor of a supplier who carried certain elite specialty King Protea plants but who, Molly knew from experience, was overpriced and unreliable.

Molly loved King Proteas, too. As exotic flowers went, they were gorgeous. But Snow Hill was only as good as its suppliers, and this supplier had sent bad flowers once, the wrong flowers another time, and no flowers at all the third time Snow Hill had placed an order. In each instance, clients had been disappointed. No, there were other exotics Liz Tocci could use.

But how stupid was it to be worried about Liz when Robin was comatose?

Unable to spend another second thinking, Molly set to ordering for the functions. But she wasn’t in a wedding mood. So she focused on Christmas. It was time to preorder. Last year, they had sold out of poinsettias and had to rush to restock at a premium cost. She wanted plenty at wholesale this year.

How many hundreds to order–three, four? Eight-inch pots, ten-inch, twelve-inch? And how many of each size to upgrade to ceramic pots?

She struggled with the decisions, but came up short. She was about as interested in poinsettias as she was in moving. Digging up her landlord Terrance Field’s phone number, she punched it in. ‘Hey, Mr Field,’ she said when the old man picked up, ‘it’s Molly Snow. How are you?’

‘Not bad,’ he replied warily. ‘What is it now, Molly?’

‘My sister’s had an accident. It’s pretty serious. This time I really do need an extension.’

‘You said that last time, too. When was that, a week ago?’

‘That was a problem with the moving company, Mr Field, and I did work it out. This is different.’ In the space of a breath, she realized that her argument was lame without the truth. ‘Robin had a heart attack.’

There was a pause, then a gently chiding, ‘Am I truly supposed to believe that?’

‘She collapsed while she was running. They say there’s brain damage. She’s in critical condition. Call Dickenson-May. They’ll verify it.’

After another pause came a sigh. ‘I’ll take your word for it, Molly, but I’m over a barrel here. You promised to be out Monday, and my contractor is starting Tuesday. I’ve paid him a hefty deposit to work quickly, because if the house isn’t ready for the estate agent to show by the first of November, selling will be difficult. I need that money.’

Molly knew his estate agent. She was an old family friend. ‘Dorie McKay will understand,’ she pleaded, ‘and she’s totally persuasive. She can work things out with the contractor. All I want is an extra week or two.’

But Terrance didn’t budge. ‘It isn’t the contractor, Molly. It’s me. First of December, my rent is tripling. The building is going condo. If I don’t sell in Hanover, I can’t buy here in Jupiter, and I can’t afford the triple rent.’

Molly might have begged–just one extra day? two extra days?–but one or two days wouldn’t make a difference, not with Robin breathing through that god-awful respirator.

Besides, it wasn’t like she couldn’t do the packing. Robin wouldn’t have done much anyway, and they did have a place to go. Molly just didn’t want to move. Despite all the natural beauty in the area, Snow Hill being the least of it, there was a special charm to the cottage. She loved driving down the lane and parking under the oak, loved walking in and smelling aged wood. The house made her feel good. It would be nice to stay a while longer, especially with Robin’s future in doubt.

One thing was for sure: Robin would be neither conducting a clinic that afternoon nor talking with sixth graders on Friday. Molly began with the Friday call, knowing that a Phys Ed teacher, who was less personally involved, would accept a cancellation more easily than a running group would. And she was right. When she explained that Robin was sick, the teacher was disappointed but understanding. The head of the running group was another story. Jenny Fiske knew Robin personally and was concerned.

When she asked what was wrong, Molly couldn’t get herself to blame the flu. ‘She had some trouble yesterday during a long run. They’re doing tests now.’

‘Is it her heel again?’

That would have been the recent bone spur incident. But a bone spur wouldn’t keep Robin from meeting with a running group. Robin adored meeting with running groups. She would have gone on crutches, if need be. No, for her to cancel out on a running group would take something serious. Molly tried to come up with a possibility. Pneumonia? Stomach cramps? Migraines? Lasting for weeks?

Finally she just said, ‘It’s something with her heart.’

‘Oh God, the enlarged heart thing. She was hoping it would go away.’

Molly paused. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t think she meant to tell me, but we were together last year when the news reported autopsy results on a guy who died during the Olympic marathon trials. He had an enlarged heart. It was totally tragic. I mean, he was only twenty-eight. Robin was saying how scary it was, because she has the same thing.’

That was news to Molly. It would be news to her parents. But Robin told Kathryn everything. If she had known something like that and hidden it from her mother for the sake of glory, it would be awful!

‘Is that the problem?’ Jenny asked.

‘Uh…uh…’

‘Is she all right ?’

Oh, yes, her mother would have wanted her to say. But it was a lie, possibly compounded now by Robin’s lie. Angry at her sister, and at her mother, who reveled in the glory of parenting a world-class runner, Molly blurted out, ‘Actually, she’s not. She hasn’t regained consciousness.’

‘Omigod! Is she at Dickenson-May?’

‘Yes.’

‘In the ICU?’

Starting to worry, Molly backpedaled. ‘Yeah, but will you kind of…not tell people, Jenny? We don’t know where this is headed.’

5 (#ub02bbdb4-800c-53f7-9f2e-2b2079b3618a)

Molly kept an eye out for Chris. The minute he returned to Snow Hill, she was in his office. ‘Did you hear anything last year about Robin having an enlarged heart?’

He shook his head. ‘Who says she did?’

‘Jenny Fiske. She implied Robin knew there was a problem and ignored it.’

‘You told her Robin had a heart problem?’ he asked.

Molly grew defensive. ‘I had to. And anyway, it’s ridiculous keeping this to ourselves when there are friends who really care.’