The Accidental Bride

No more cooking.

Find a new line of work.

She closed her eyes. “Please come in, Grace.”

“You’re family?” The doctor closed his file and studied Grace.

“A friend. A very good friend,” Grace said fiercely. “I’ll help any way I can.”

“Good. Your friend has some big decisions in front of her. Having a support network will be crucial. What about family?”

“No,” Jilly said coldly. “None.”

“I see.” The doctor tapped the thick chart. “It could be worse. You’re young and otherwise healthy, Ms. O’Hara. No tobacco use. No obesity or diabetes. But your last ECG shows an elevated heart rate. I’m not thrilled about your LDL levels, either.”

“What does all that mean?”

“Your heart is working too hard. At this point, surgery is not recommended. Diet, medication and lifestyle changes are the first step.”

Jilly ignored the first two items as irrelevant. “Lifestyle? I’m not giving up my work, Doctor. I can’t,” she said hoarsely. “I could … cut back a little. Maybe go in late sometimes.”

The doctor looked at her and frowned. “I’m not sure you understand what I’m saying. We only get one heart, by nature’s choice. Blowing through it isn’t a sane plan.” He shook his head slowly. “By all rights you’re far too young for us to be having this conversation. But you’ve had a warning shot over the bow and now you need to pay attention. I’d hate to see you back here in three months. Or in three weeks,” he added gravely.

“So you’re saying I can’t work? I have to lie in bed and vegetate?” Jilly’s voice rose with an edge of hysteria. “I’ll go insane.”

“Then stay busy. Take up a hobby. Find something that relaxes you. For the moment your old life needs to be put on hold while we assess our options and how well you respond to those options.” He glanced at the needles sticking out of Grace’s bag. “Why not take up knitting? Some convincing tests show that knitting confers a measurable relaxation response.”

“Not the way I knit,” Jilly rasped. “I’m terrible at it. Can’t I just—well, cut back my work hours?”

The doctor crossed his arms. “All I can tell you is what makes the best sense for the long term.”

Jilly squeezed her eyes shut. “You don’t understand. Cooking is all I have.”

“What I understand is your health. For you that means at least six months stress-free. It means medication, exercise and careful medical follow-up. The rest will be up to you and your body.” He closed the chart and slid it under his arm. “Get some rest. I’ll be back this evening with a detailed health plan. It won’t be the end of the world.”

He nodded at Grace and then walked outside as his beeper began to vibrate.

Jilly closed her eyes and gripped Grace’s hand. In three months her salsa line would be gone, her vendors lost. In four months her investors would bail out. Her business would be destroyed.

“Hey.” Grace gave her a mock shoulder punch, though her eyes shimmered with tears. “It’s not a disaster. You’ve got us. Remember that. We’ll work this out together.”

Jilly tried to smile.

But Grace didn’t understand. It was different for her and the others. They had families and people they could rely on in an emergency. Jilly was alone—and she always would be.

GRACE SPOKE QUIETLY, keeping an eye on the door of Jilly’s hospital room. “She’s going to have to make huge changes, Caro. That means no stress and no cooking for at least six months.”

“She’ll hate it,” Caro said fiercely. “It will feel like a death sentence for Jilly. Hold on. The baby’s crying.”

Grace heard rustling and then the sound of sniffling.

“Okay, one hungry baby emergency under control.” Caro took a deep breath. “So it was definitely her heart?”

“That’s what her doctor said.”

“We have to get her through this transition somehow.” Caro hesitated. “Can you get email?”

“I’m on my cell right now, but I can get email on that.”

“Great. There’s something I want you to see. This will make Jilly rest, whether she likes it or not.”

“The intervention idea?”

“I think I found the perfect place. There’s a lovely resort in Wyoming that specializes in craft retreats. She can enjoy a class in the day and then relax with a spa treatment at night. Lots of nature. Lots of peace. Not a lot of noise or distractions.”

“What’s this place called?”

“Lost Creek. They hold a highly praised knitting retreat there every year.”

“Knitting? You’ll never convince her.” Wearily, Grace rubbed a cramp in her neck. “Jilly hates to knit. And she hates to be manipulated.”

“I know.” Caro hesitated. “And that, my friend, is where you come in… .”

CHAPTER FIVE

Oregon

Three weeks later

“BEHOLD THE NEW ME. Completely calm. Seriously relaxed.”

Jilly scowled at Grace, who was driving. “In fact you see before you the queen of relaxed. But there’s one problem. You can only take so many walks or read so many fluffy magazines before your brain starts to rot. So listen to me, Grace, because this is serious. I love Summer Island. It was nice for the first few days and totally great to see Olivia again. Your grandfather, too.” Jilly tugged back her hair in a vicious twist and dragged a rubber band around the thick strands. “But if I have to endure five more months of this fun, I may shoot someone. Most likely myself,” she muttered.

“Relax, Jilly.”

“Relax how?” Jilly glared up at the gray Oregon sky. “At least in Arizona, it was sunny. These gray skies are depressing.” Jilly sat up straighter, watching a road sign flash past. “You just took the wrong turn. We’re supposed to be going to that new restaurant in Portland.” Jilly’s head whipped around as Grace turned onto the freeway and took the exit for the airport. “What are you doing? I thought we were going to Portland.”

“Not exactly.” Grace pulled into a parking spot and waved at a nearby car. Caro and Olivia jumped out, beaming in excitement.

“What’s going on? Why are Caro and Livie here?”

“Because, my dear, sweet, idiotic best friend, they came to see you off. Caro has your suitcase packed and Livie bought you some new clothes.”

“Clothes? Why clothes?”

“Because you’re going on a trip and you’ll need them.”

“This is a joke, right? You planned some kind of a girls’ night out in Portland. Just don’t tell me it’s at a Chippendales place because my heart isn’t in it. My heart, get it?” Jilly’s face was stony. “I’m trying not to spoil the party here, Grace.”