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"Or it might." my mother said.
"Or it might be more extensive. yes. Let's get him functioning again and take it all a step at a time. Mrs. Montgomery."
He glanced at me. "I'm his sister," I said.
"Well, that's nice. He has support. He's going to be fine eventually. That's the important thing."
He smiled quickly and started away.
"Thank you. Doctor," I called after him. He just lifted his hand and continued.
"I don't know if I could ever be someone who treats people's troubles as day-to-day work," my mother muttered. "I told that to your father once. too."
"What did he say?"
"The secret is not treating it like day-to-day work. The secret is treating every cure as if it was a miracle in which you were lucky enough to have played a role. There aren't many like him, though." she added with a deep sigh.
She went back in to spend time with Linden. and I collapsed on the settee in the waiting room, closing my eyes and getting myself some rest. I woke up when I felt someone nudging me and looked up to see Thatcher standing there.
&
nbsp; "I thought you two might be here. after I saw your car was gone. How is he?"
I told him what the doctor had said.
"At least he's being honest. The rest, as Shakespeare says, is in the womb of time."
"Aren't we all?" I muttered. I was tired and cranky and disgusted with everything. I had a sudden urge to go home. I longed to be in my own home, walking my own grounds, feeling closer to my father.
I suddenly remembered that I had called and Miles had not answered,
"I've got to make a phone call." I told Thatcher, and he handed me his cell phone.
I'll get myself some coffee," he said.
I called and waited as it rang and rang and rang. Now I was convinced something was not right, so I sifted hurriedly through my purse until I found Mr. Bassinger's phone number. Thatcher returned while I was calling Bassinger's office. His secretary put me right through.
"Willow, I've been waiting to hear from you," he said immediately.
"Did you call me?"
"Yesterday, midafternoon, Didn't you get the message?"
"No," I said, looking up at Thatcher, "What's happening. Mr. Bassinger?"
"I'm afraid its not good news. Miles is gone." "Gone? You mean he left the property?"
"No. He's passed away, Willow. Apparently, your aunt Agnes had someone look in on the house regularly. Fortunately, I should say. He wasn't dead long, not quite a day. I got there just after the police and the ambulance had arrived. He was found in your father's office, clutching a pile of blank paper, his eyes open wide like someone who's died of shock. It was confirmed as heart failure. Ironic how they both went the same way, but in Miles's case, it isn't so hard to understand, considering his life and all he's gone through, that is.
"I have people in the house, cleaning it up. There were prospective buyers set to visit it yesterday, but we had to put that off, and now we have to disclose Miles's death. Where are you? What are your plans?"
"I'm staying someplace else for now," I told him, and gave him my mother's phone number, "I'm not sure how long, but I'll call you very soon. What about Miles's funeral?"
"Your father had all those things prearranged. We'll do it day after tomorrow. I expect they'll release the body today. Sorry about all this happening, all this bad news on top of bad news."
You have no idea, I thought.
"My father's death broke his heart. My father was his only friend. I should have realized," I said.
