“Right.” Mary smiled.
Simon smiled, too. “Everybody does whatever Daddy says. All the time. Ha!”
Rachel’s eyelids started to droop. “Horton hatched the egg.”
“I know,” Mary said, more quietly. “Because Mayzie flew away to Palm Beach.”
“Pom Beach.”
“Right.” Mary stroked Rachel’s head, remembering her hair, which used to be so rich and thick. “I think it might be your bedtime.”
“I’m not tired.” Rachel closed her eyes.
“Good night now, sweetie. I love you. I’ll see you again soon.” Mary kissed her on the cheek, backed away from the bed, and got her stuff. She went out into the hallway as Simon gaveRachel a kiss and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
“Thanks for coming,” Simon said tiredly. “She saw you right away, didn’t she? That made me happy. I like that she wasn’t snowed under. Sometimes these drugs, they just put her out.”
“I bet.”
“She loves you.” Simon’s gaze met hers, and they both knew what they were feeling, so neither of them had to say anything.
“I love her, too. Anyway, I have good news.”
“Tell me. Let’s go sit there, I want to be nearby if she wakes up. My dad needs the rest.” Simon motioned to a line of blue bucket chairs outside a playroom, with a sign on the door:For the safety of our BMT patients, the playroom is open only to patients and parents/caregivers. When leaving, patients must put dirty toys in the dirty toy bin. Thanks!
“Here’s what’s going on.” Mary took a seat and told him everything, including the conflict-of-interest issue, which concerned him.
“I’m sorry if I’m making life difficult for you,” Simon said, after she had finished.
“You’re not. It’s a judgment call, and I’m making a judgment. And in any event, it looks like it’s form over substance.”
“So what’s the next move?”
“We wait and see how they respond to the complaint and our settlement demand. I’m optimistic, I really am.” Mary’s gaze shifted to the room, where Rachel had fallen asleep in an identical posture with Feet, their heads off to the left. “Look at those two. You think they’re related?”
Simon turned around, then burst into a grin. “Oh, I would say so.”
“Your dad must be exhausted.”
“He is. Yours, too.”
“What do you mean?” Mary asked, surprised. “Is my father here?”
“Yes, in the family lounge.”
“The McDonald’s one? I didn’t look in when I passed.”
“He’s in there. I tried to get him to go home, but he wouldn’t listen. He never does.”
“This is typical?” Mary didn’t get it. It wasn’t as if her father had so much else to do, but he wouldn’t ordinarily stay out all day.
“Completely typical. He stays, even after Pigeon Tony and Tony From-Down-The-Block go home. Why don’t you persuade him to go? Maybe he’ll listen to you. I sleep here, but if he goes home, he can take my dad.”
“Oh boy.” Mary rose, hoisting her bags to her shoulder. “You need somebody to wrangle senior citizens.”
“Exactly.” Simon chuckled.
“Let me go see what I can do.” Mary headed down the hallway toward the lounge, then spotted her father shuffling toward her from the opposite end of the hallway. His head was downcast so that his bald head shone in the bright overhead lights. She stood at the lounge door until he had almost reached her, looking up with a startled smile.
