“Didn’t Jesus say that?”
“And Chairman Mao, I think.”
Matt pointed to the clock. Dr. Rosen was late. “My doctor is probably making a prom date,” he said.
I smiled. “She is young, isn’t she? But that doesn’t mean you don’t have to follow her orders and go to bed when you get home.”
“I’m ready to promise anything as long as they let me out of here,” he said.
“Isn’t the food scrumptious?”
Matt frowned. “Even your cousin’s fruitcake is better.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her.”
Enough, I thought. This was the kind of hospital small talk people made when someone was dying. “Are you up for some real work?” I asked him.
“You bet. What do you have?”
I reviewed Jake Powers’s remarks, the ones Matt had missed when he inconveniently lost consciousness. I used the notepad to emphasize key words and possible links.
“So you think this bute is the key? Maybe an illegal drug? And the vet you met at the high school is involved?”
I nodded. “The trouble is, there doesn’t seem to be enough at stake to kill someone over it. You remember what Lorna Frederick said about prize money and—”
“What is this?” A loud, reprimanding voice. Jean Mottolo, nee Gennaro, entered the room. She was in nicely tailored casual pants and a thick Irish sweater, comfortable for driving, but not inappropriate if a prospective client came her way. She stood at the foot of Matt’s bed, arms folded, and glowered at me. “I can’t believe you’re making him work. Don’t you care at all about him?”
I was dumbstruck. First, I’d forgotten she’d said she’d be coming to the hospital, and second, I hadn’t been scolded in a long time.
Matt recovered from the outburst quickly. He pointed to an orange chair stuffed under the television set. “Jean, pull up that seat please, and sit down.”
Jean obeyed, breathing heavily. She’s nervous and worried about her brother, I told myself.
“I’m sure you didn’t drive all this way to upset us.” He took her hand. “You know I wouldn’t be ‘working,’ as you call it, unless I wanted to. What’s going on with you, Jeannie?”
I’d never heard Matt call his sister “Jeannie” and suspected it was meant to recall happier days of their childhood. I could see her body respond to the endearment. She took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Gloria,” she said, using the correct words, but in a tone that sounded like a homework assignment from her brother. She swiveled her head to face first me, then Matt, and back to me. “What’s going on is, I feel very left out of all this. Is there something you want to tell me?”
Matt and I looked at each other. “I told you everything I know, on the phone, Jean,” I said, proud of my adult behavior so far.
“How nice of you to call my sister, Gloria,” Matt said, with a teasing smile to both of us.
I went on, needing to finish my defense. “The doctor will be by in a few minutes and then Matt should be able to leave, but I didn’t know that until I got here.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean, Jeannie?”
She looked at Matt, tilted her head toward the door and reception area beyond. “The nurse told me your fiancée was in here.”
Matt and I looked at each other and burst into a reasonably decorous laugh; the rattle of the food carts passing by provided the perfect background music.
Matt held up his hand in a let me explain gesture. “We told them that because hospitals have a hard time with people who are unrelated. You can’t get information, can’t come and go—”
“So it’s not true?” Jean sat back, apparently immensely relieved.
“I haven’t gotten down on one knee yet, but … did you think we were just temporarily playing house?”
Jean gave a loud sigh. “So are you getting married or not?”
I stood and picked up my purse, headed toward the door. “Anyone want a cup of coffee?” I asked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It felt so good to have Matt back from the hospital. He sat in the living room wrapped in a new flannel blanket I’d ordered on-line, but his color was returning, and his appetite was excellent. Even I had a hard time eating two whole cannoli in one sitting, but he managed, within an hour of being home.
“Don’t want to insult Rose,” he said, as if she were present to witness any restraint.
Jean had left his hospital room by the time I got back from the vending machine with a coffee-colored beverage. She had a client to see in Medford, she’d told Matt, and would be back to Fernwood Avenue in the afternoon. I didn’t ask how the marriage conversation turned out. It seemed ironic that the subject had been instigated by a nurse who happened to be on duty when Matt was wheeled in.