“If it’s not for any of those reasons, then why do you want to move?” Zoey asked.
“It’s not that it’snotfor any of those reasons. But none of those reasons alone is the deciding factor. It’s the combination and because the timing is right—for all of us. You could stay here until your job begins. And it’ll work out well for Mark, too, since he just found out he has until Labor Day to vacate his home.”
“He’s going to move to Dune Island in September? Then why would you need to move out?”
“No, he can’t move here—there aren’t enough job opportunities in his field. But he’ll start leasing the house out then, so he won’t have to worry about money if he doesn’t get a job offer as soon as he hopes to get one. He’s been so stressed out about securing employment, he’s lost almost twenty pounds in a month’s time. He’s not sleeping, either. I’m more concerned about his health than I am about mine.”
Zoey could have smacked her forehead. Her aunt had mentioned she was concerned about his employment situation and health once before, but she still felt blindsided to learnthatwas ultimately the ‘deciding factor’ in Ivy’s decision to move.
She had severely underestimated Mark’s cunning. He was well aware that for every reason he’d suggested Ivy needed to move—her health, her memory, her loneliness, the upkeep of her house—Zoey had already thought of a way to address the problem. So he had shifted his focus. Instead of merely playing up his aunt’s declining health and other challenges, he’d apparently been playing up his own.
That explains why she was always so quiet during those marathon phone calls with him—he must have been giving her a sob story about how tragic his situation was. Especially how his health was suffering. Heknewshe’d be upset about him losing his appetite!She could only imagine what else he’d whined to her about whenever he was alone with her.
The brilliance of his scheme was he knew Zoey couldn’t do a single thing to change his situation, the way she could for Ivy. Zoey couldn’tmakean employer hire Mark. Nor could she improve his health or cause him to gain weight. For all she knew, he hadn’t applied for a single job and he’d purposely been working out for ten hours a day in order to lose weight. But all that mattered was he’d convinced Ivy he was suffering. And a lifetime of experience had taught him that she’d do whatever she could to rescue him. Including moving into an assisted living facility.
Ivy continued, “He’s got it figured it all out, down to the penny. I don’t have quite enough funding to cover the assisted living costs, but he’s willing to share the profits from leasing out the house.”
That’s big of him.“You’ve told me why you’re not unwilling to move and you’ve explained how the timing and the move is good for me and good for Mark, but I still haven’t heard you say this is whatyoureally want to do, Aunt Ivy.”
“Oh, I know it will be an adjustment, but I’ll get used to it.” She laughed. “I’d better—because if I change my mind, I won’t get my down payment on the facility back and I can hardly afford that as it is.”
“When is that due?”
“Well, today I have to place a call to the trust fund executor and work out a few details, but the assisted living director is willing to wait until the fifteenth.”
“Of September?”
“Of June. This coming Monday.”
Zoey hopped to her feet. “Uh-oh, I think I hear my phone ringing. That might be the library director.”
Her phone wasn’t ringing; her ears were. She ran up the stairs, so frustrated that if it wouldn’t have upset her aunt, she would have run up the attic stairs, too. And then she would have climbed the ladder and stood on the widow’s walk and screamed so vociferously, the islanders would have told stories about it for generations to come.
Chapter Twelve
Since Ivy’s pre-op assessment process was slated to take two hours, Zoey sat in the hospital lobby, using her phone to research all the Melissa Carters in North Carolina. After staying up half the night contemplating how she could prove Mr. Witherell was Marcus Jr.’s father, the only plan Zoey had come up with was to contact his one living relative and ask her outright. It was a long shot—averylong shot—and she was dreading the conversation, but she was now decidedly desperate enough to give it a try.
She narrowed her list down to three Melissa Carters she thought might be related to Mr. Witherell and gave them a call. The first number was no longer in use. The second number was answered by a child who said Melissa Carter was her nana who had gone to heaven when he was eight. No one answered the third number she called, so Zoey left a voicemail.
Afterward, she walked along Port Newcomb’s waterfront, purchased clam chowder from Captain Clark’s and ate it on their deck overlooking the water. It was an overcast day and while she usually enjoyed watching the large ferries docking and departing, today the low thrum of their engines set her teeth on edge. She kept checking the time on her phone; she’d asked the receptionist to call when Ivy was done. Since she still hadn’t heard anything, she returned to the pre-op department.
“How much longer will it be until Ivy Cartwright’s assessment is done?” she asked the receptionist.
“She… th-they had to take her upstairs to cardiology. The nurse was supposed to call you. I’ll go get her. She can explain it better.”
Zoey’s legs felt hollow as she waited for the nurse to come out. She explained her aunt had been exhibiting symptoms—sweating, chest pain, lightheadedness—consistent with a pulmonary embolism. After additional tests, she’d been admitted to the hospital.
“This is the best place for this to happen. If she hadn’t come in for the assessment, we might not have caught it in time. I’ll take you to her.”
“Thank you,” she said even though she didn’t feel grateful. She felt terrified. And guilty. She should have tried harder to convince her aunt to go to the ER after she’d spent the night at the assisted living facility. And she definitely should have tried harder to stop Mark from taking her off-island in the first place.
At the cardiology wing, she was informed the doctor would be out to see her shortly. She took out her phone and numbly tapped Gabi’s number, but her cell was turned off, as usual. She left a message and then a text. Mark had gone back to Boston on Tuesday, but she figured he’d want to know. When he didn’t pick up, she left a voicemail and a text for him, too. She felt so desperate to talk to someone that she called Kathleen but when she couldn’t reach her, she didn’t leave a message.
Three phone calls and that’s it. That’s my entire family, she thought.And if Aunt Ivy dies…She sniffled, on the cusp of weeping. Too bad she didn’t keep a tissue tucked in her sleeve, the way her aunt did. The reminder made her sadder, so she called Lauren, but her friend must have been at work and couldn’t answer her phone.
Shortly afterward, the doctor came out and said Ivy was resting comfortably. He explained they’d given her medication to try to break up the clot. If it didn’t work, they’d resort to surgery. And he said she’d be in the hospital for five to seven days.
“Did this happen because of her arrhythmia?”
