“It’s so quiet,” she said to the cats. “My ears are ringing. Are yours?” She pressed play on the next voicemail.
“Hi, Charity, it’s your mother. You’re probably on the airplane now, but please call when you land. There’s been an…incident. We’re all at the hospital. Now’s not the time for details. Oh… Please call me. Love you, Charity. So so much.” And then the message ended.
Charity stopped eating ice cream. Her mother was never—ever—short-winded. So that was the first red flag. The second, her mother lived for spilling details. Not a one. But the last flag, the big one: they were all at the hospital. Something bad had happened.
In five minutes, she was on the road to the hospital, puzzling over possibilities.
It wouldn’t be Dad. Mom wouldn’t have been able to call her if it were—it would have been Felicity on the phone.
Could it be Grams? Was her great-grandmother back from her widows’ group cruise down the Rhine? Again, Mom seemed too calm for that to be the case.
So, who?
She didn’t want to think about the kids. But it was graduation night. Accidents happened.
I’m such an idiot. She thought about the bottle of champagne sitting on the floor in the brown paper bag. She was trying to be the cool aunt. An idiot.
The roads were quiet. No traffic. She sat at the red light, her fingers tapping in irritation. Did she really have to sit here? No one was coming. No one. At all.
She put her foot on the accelerator and rolled through the intersection.
Red and blue lights came to life, the siren scaring her so much that she jerked her rental car and bounced off the curb.
“Dammit!” She hung her head, waiting. And still, the knock on her driver’s window made her jump.
She rolled down the window.
“Evening,” the officer said. “In a hurry?”
She nodded, trying to sound calm. “I’m headed to the hospital.”
“Emergency?” he asked.
She nodded, glancing up at the man shining a flashlight on her. Beyond a large, dark shape and a glare in her eyes, she couldn’t see much. “According to my mom, yes. I just flew in from Chicago.”
“Wait. Charity? Charity Otto?”
She held her hand up, trying to see. “Yes?”
“Well, hell, Charity, let’s get you to the hospital.”
Chapter Three
Felicity stared straight ahead, her anxiety rising faster than the elevator they were riding.
“Is this weird for you?” Charity asked, rolling the collapsible storage cart full of recyclable shopping bags back and forth. When they’d been growing up, Felicity had always known when Charity was nervous or upset by how much she fidgeted. Since she’d offered to come with Felicity to Matt and Amber’s apartment, her sister had been on full-fidget mode. Spinning her bangled bracelets, tapping her fingers on her thighs, brushing through her long strawberry-blond curls with her fingers. Constant movement. It was oddly comforting.
“I’m guessing it’s really weird,” Charity added.
“Yep,” she agreed. Weird didn’t begin to describe it. This was…enemy territory. He’d left her for this.
Matt. Matt who was gone forever.
She had yet to come to terms with what, exactly, that meant. But she’d had no choice about coming here. Thinking about Jack waking up to a stark, empty hospital room full of hovering strangers with nothing familiar to soothe his fears was all she needed to go through with it. Surely Jack had some special blanket or toy in his crib he’d want when he finally opened his eyes.
The Porsche key fob was heavy in her hands. Not from the keys but from the size of the keychain. It had been Amber’s—Amber’s shiny convertible and Amber’s keys. Keys to a shiny convertible that now belonged to her daughter.
For now, she’d use the keys to enter Amber’s apartment. Amber and Matt’s apartment. Where they were going. Now.