Chasing Their Losses Read online

  “We can still ride in the afternoon,” Cara said. “But I have to do a home diet consult.”

  John signaled the waitress for another glass of wine. “Since when did you start doing weekend diet instructions?”

  “I haven’t. But this is a special case. And you should be glad, because it’s going to help you. It’s for one of your patients, Angie Cabella.”

  John forehead furrowed into a deep frown. “I don’t recall ordering a house call for Angie. I know she’s having problems, but I expected your dietitian, Beth, would straighten things out. In fact, I saw Beth’s note in her chart that she’d gone over Angie’s diet with the mother present.”

  “Not mother, stepmother.”

  John fixed his gaze on her and shook his head. “I don’t understand what’s possessed you to take it upon yourself to break our date and go out to the Cabella house when the patient has already received a diet consult. Beth is a good dietitian. Why should you undermine her by getting involved?”

  “Because Angie’s father asked me to. He’s a VIP, John. Heavy contributor. I’m expected to do him special favors.”

  “Her father?” John emptied his glass and set it back down. “How does he know you?”

  “I’m sure I’ve told you we dated when we were younger. I saw him the other day. He’s recently remarried, and thinks his new wife needs some special instructions.”

  “Whoa.” John pushed away his plate and folded his arms on the table. “Tony Cabella is your old boyfriend?”

  Cara ran her finger around the rim of her water glass, avoiding the intense scrutiny of John’s dark brown eyes. A rugged five foot ten, he was different from Tony in every way. She couldn’t help but notice the contrast between John’s red checked flannel shirt, blue jeans, wiry black hair, dark facial stubble, and Tony’s suave demeanor.

  “That was a very long time ago,” she said. “I haven’t seen him for several years. He asked me to talk to his wife and see what I could do.”

  “I see. This isn’t really business. You’re doing him a personal favor.” John stabbed a bite of salmon and chewed it thoughtfully. “I guess I remember your mentioning that you had gone together at one time. But I didn’t think it was that serious. You showed me the house where you were raised. How did you hook up with a rich guy like Cabella?”

  “He lived next door to one of my high school classmates.”

  “So what happened; why did you split up?”

  “For one thing, his parents didn’t want him involved with anyone but a Catholic girl. They were very devout; in addition to going to Mass almost every day, they used to go on retreats to some monastery in the summer. They were worried we were getting too serious, especially when we were still seeing each other after high school. And as you mentioned, I lived on the wrong side of the tracks. They thought I was a low class tramp just out for his money. They brought his cousin into the agency and threatened his inheritance if he didn’t find a nice girl from St. Mary’s.”

  “So he didn’t have the guts to stand up to them?”

  “It wasn’t just that. We argued a lot. He was temperamental and inconsiderate at times. I finally realized it would never work out. That’s when I took a job in Florida. It seemed easier to get out of town and start a new life.” Cara took a deep breath and exhaled. It bothered her that John was probing into her past. Did she really owe him an explanation about Tony?

  John’s posture softened. He scooped up her hand, covering it with his warmth.

  “Sorry, I have no room to talk, considering my history with Janice. You’re right, let’s talk about something else.”

  Janice Carson. Now it was Cara’s turn to be jealous. It hurt to know that John had once had a relationship with the most beautiful blonde nurse in the entire hospital. Why was he suddenly so understanding about their change of plans? What if he decided he didn’t have to sleep alone tonight, after all?

  Cara knew that John was a little upset when they parted ways in the parking lot. He gave her a quick, cool kiss on the lips when she opened her car door, and climbed into his red pickup truck, the tires squealing as he revved the motor and backed up, waiting for her to leave. As she turned right, he turned left without a backward glance.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A VISIT WITH GAIL

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Cara drove east toward the edge of town. When she located Tony’s address with her GPS, and saw a massive red brick house with white pillars, set in the midst of other upscale homes, she resisted an impulse to park her old Honda down the street where it couldn’t be seen as belonging to her. The Cabella’s garage door was open, with an empty space next to a gleaming white Cadillac SUV.

  Someone had left. Was it Gail or Tony?

  Cara rang the door chimes and waited awhile, stewing that Gail had forgotten that she was coming. She rang the chimes again, until at last, a tall slim blonde with startled blue eyes opened the heavy carved wooden door, filling the air with a whiff of tropical fragrance

  At five foot six, Cara felt momentarily intimidated as Gail looked down at her from a height of about five foot ten. In spite of the brisk autumn weather, Gail wore denim cutoffs revealing the kind of long tan shapely legs that make other women feel as if they’re walking around on pegs. A silky pink polo shirt clung to her high rounded breasts and small waist. She held out her hand. “I’m Gail. You’re Tony’s friend, right?”

  Cara detected a sharp edge to Gail’s voice. She tried to sound professional as she returned Gail’s firm handshake. “Yes, Tony thought perhaps I could help you manage Angie’s diabetes.”

  Gail held the door open so Cara could enter a large foyer with a winding staircase, crystal chandelier, and gleaming hardwood floors. On a gray marble topped table, an enormous vase of exotic orchids and lilies trembled in the breeze.

  “I’m sorry Tony put you to all this trouble.” Gail said. “I certainly have sense enough to know what Angie should eat. Why don’t you come on out to the kitchen. We’re just having brunch.”

  They walked down a long hall into a state-of-the-art kitchen replete with granite countertops, hanging copper kettles, and mahogany stained wood cabinets. A tall slim blond boy with a tiny gold cross dangling from his left earlobe stood at the stovetop, surrounded by crockery, spatula, eggs, and milk. The air smelled of pancakes, and the floor was sticky underfoot.

  “Doug’s cooking,” Gail said. “His specialty, chocolate chip. Would you like one?”

  “No thanks, I’ve eaten.” Cara spotted Angie sitting at the table pouring syrup over a plate of pancakes.

  She sat down beside her. “Hi, remember me?”

  “Yeah, you’re the lady from the hospital, Dad’s friend.” Angie cut a wedge of pancake and smeared it around the plate to saturate it with syrup.

  Cara tried to see the label on the bottle, but it was turned around. “Where did you buy the dietetic syrup?” she asked Gail.

  Gail winked. “It’s regular. We’re just cheating a little bit today. Angie’s sick of all that diet food.”

  Cara fought the urge to pick up the plate and throw the pancakes in the wastebasket. Why would Gail show such blatant disregard for Angie’s health by encouraging her to consume sucrose? She clamped down a rush of anger by telling herself to be diplomatic. She stretched her lips into a smile and asked Angie, “what did you eat for breakfast when you first got up this morning?”

  “This is my breakfast, silly,” Angie licked some butter running down her arm.

  Cara looked at her watch. 10:15 a.m. “You haven’t eaten anything at all until just now?”

  Angie yawned. “Nah, we stayed up late watching movies last night.”

  “Sure you don’t want a pancake?” Gail asked.

  “No, if you don’t mind, I’ll just have some coffee, black.”

  “Sure. Sorry this place is such a mess today.”

  Cara watched Doug polish off five pancakes to Angie’s two. When they were finished, the children ran out of the kitchen. “Where are you guys go
ing?” Gail called.

  “Upstairs,” Doug yelled, making no effort to clean up the mess he’d made.

  “It’s such a nice day,” Cara said when they’d gone. “Does Angie play outside very often?”

  Gail gave her a blank look. “What would she do?”

  “Does she have a bicycle?”

  “I think so, somewhere. But you know, the kids are so busy with their devices.”

  “Angie really needs to get some exercise,” Cara said.

  At that moment, the landline rang. Gail could have taken it right there, but she excused herself and ran upstairs, leaving Cara alone in the kitchen wondering what in the world she’d gotten herself into. The milk was sitting on the counter, along with the eggs and butter. Cara decided to help out and do a little clean up. She picked up the cartons and opened the refrigerator door, surprised to see a topsy-turvy arrangement of foods--trays filled with wine and seltzer water, and various packages of fancy cheeses, caviar, dips, and several styrofoam boxes of takeout.

  “What are you looking for?” Gail was suddenly back in the kitchen, and from the jut of her jaw, Cara could see she wasn’t happy to see the contents of her refrigerator being investigated.

  “Just putting things away,” Cara said. “I didn’t think you’d want the milk sitting out.”

  “I suppose you have to be extra careful.” Gail’s glossy pink lips quivered with amusement. “Seeing you had a salmonella outbreak at the hospital.”

  Cara closed the refrigerator door, ignoring Gail’s obvious attempt to embarrass her. “I didn’t know you were living in Lewiston then,” she said evenly.

  “Sure, it was right after Tony and I got married. Jesus, I hated it here at first, what with all the snow. And when that came out in the paper, I wondered just what kind of a place I moved to.”

  “You’d never heard of any food borne outbreaks in California?”

  “Nope.” Gail picked up a rubber band and twisted her hair into a pony tail. She could easily have passed for eighteen, but the twelve year old boy had to be her child, so Cara figured she must be close to her own age. “Let’s get out of here,” Gail grimaced at the sight of the slopped up countertops. “My cleaning lady will be here soon and she’ll take care of all this.”

  The living room looked as if a decorator had earned quite a healthy commission. The cushiony overstuffed sofas and chairs picked up the deep shades of red in the oriental rugs, luxurious silk drapes, and fabric covered walls. Everything smelled new. Gail sat in a chair, propped her feet up on the coffee table, and lit a cigarette. “Oh, sorry, do you mind?” she asked.

  Cara did mind, but she shook her head, and hoped she wouldn’t have a coughing fit. Gail held out a pack of Virginia Slims. “Want one?”

  “No thanks. Look, Gail, I don’t want to take up a lot of your time, and I have another appointment. I know my clinical dietitian went over the diabetic diet exchanges with you and Angie last week in class. I just wanted to be sure you understood what Angie needs to keep her blood sugar under control.”

  Gail looked away and blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “We’re going to start on it next week. I have to do some shopping; I just haven’t had time. I know I shouldn’t have let her have those pancakes, but it’s tough. And what is Doug supposed to do? He isn’t diabetic. Am I supposed to cook separate meals for the two of them?”

  “A diabetic diet is healthy and balanced,” Cara said. “It wouldn’t hurt Doug at all. You could just fill in some extras for him. Tell you what, let’s sit down right now and plan a week’s menus. You’ll be surprised how easy it is.”

  At that moment, the chandelier's crystal prisms rattled and they heard a loud crash from upstairs, followed by an ominous quiet. Gail stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray and yelled. “Doug? What’s happened?”

  No answer.

  “Oh, God. Now what?” Gail jumped out of her chair and Cara followed her upstairs. Doug stood in the hallway, blocking their path.

  “Where’s Angie?” Cara asked.

  “It was an accident,” Doug said.

  Without waiting for further explanation, Gail pushed Doug aside and hurried down the hallway into a bedroom where an unconscious Angie lay on the floor. Cara knelt down, listening for a heartbeat, relieved to find Angie was still breathing. “Maybe we should call 911,” she said.

  “What for?” Gail said. “Haven’t you ever seen a kid pass out? She’ll wake up in a minute with a bump on her head.”

  Angie opened her eyes.

  “See?” Gail was triumphant. “She’s going to be fine.”

  “Get me a blanket,” Cara said. “She feels cold.”

  “Sure.” Gail yanked a frilly white eyelet comforter off the bed, stretched it across Angie’s small body and stroked the child’s hair. “What happened, sweetie?” she asked, her voice soft and tender.

  Doug appeared at the doorway. “Angie was climbing up on the dresser. She wanted to get one of her dolls off that shelf up there.”

  Cara looked up at a line of dolls from foreign countries arranged neatly in a row. It appeared the dolls were merely decorative—not to be played with. She glanced back at Angie. Her color was coming back, eyes wide open. Gail probably had more sense than she’d given her credit for. After all, she was an experienced mother. Still, John should be called.

  “I think we should call Dr. Drakos, just to be on the safe side,” Cara said.

  Gail nodded. “I have his phone number on the fridge downstairs, I’ll run down and call.”

  Cara could have told her John’s number, but thought it best not to bring it up. “Sure, I’ll wait here with Angie,” she said.

  Angie watched the door as Gail and Doug walked away. “I didn’t climb on the dresser,” she whispered. “Doug made that up.”

  “Then what really happened?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think he pushed me against the wall.”

  “Why? Were you having a fight about something?”

  “He said I’d been in his room and played on his computer. But I didn’t. I can go in my Daddy’s office anytime and do games on his.”

  Cara’s stomach was in knots. What had she gotten herself into by agreeing to come out to Tony’s house? This was turning in to much more than a simple diet instruction. What they really needed was a family therapist, not a dietitian.

  Gail reappeared at the door. “I’m thinking maybe it would be better if you talked to the doctor while I stay with Angie.”

  “Sure,no problem.” Cara could have used her cell phone to call from the bedroom, but decided it would be better if she went downstairs so Angie wouldn’t overhear the conversation.

  * * *

  A long, sinewy gray cat licked a plate on the granite kitchen countertop, As Cara picked up her phone to call John, the animal regarded her calmly with yellow-green eyes and made no move to jump down. Sourness rose in her throat as the cat’s tail dusted the counter.

  John picked up on the first ring. After their disagreement, Cara had been afraid he might not be in a good mood. Now, the sound of his upbeat, friendly voice sent a rush of relief through her body.

  “Hi, what’s going on?” he asked.

  When she explained what had happened, he told her what Gail should do, then said he hoped to see her soon. Energized at the prospect of a pleasant afternoon, Cara sprinted upstairs.

  Cara said. “Dr. Drakos said it’s a good sign that she didn’t vomit and seems alert, but you’ll need to watch her closely for the next twenty four hours. If she vomits, loses consciousness, or shows any sign of disorientation, you need to let him know immediately.”

  Gail’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Oh dear, I have a tennis date.”

  “That’s too bad. But I’m sure your partner will understand if you cancel.”

  “No, I can’t do that. We’re practicing for a tournament.”

  Cara clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides to keep her annoyance from showing. Just for a moment, she’d seen a warm,
caring side of Gail. Amazing that a person could turn off such emotions like a light switch.

  “What were you going to do?” she said, her voice quavering. “Leave the kids alone?”

  “Why not? Doug’s twelve--old enough to baby sit an hour or so.”

  “But you can’t do that now. You’ll have to stay home.”

  “No.” Gail pulled off her shirt, revealing a pair of bouncy breasts in a pink push up bra, and deep cleavage. “I’ve got to change.”

  Cara gritted her teeth. A simple home call was turning into a complicated baby sitting job. “Can you call a friend to stay while you’re gone?” she asked.

  “Yes, I could do that.” The creases in Gail’s forehead smoothed out. “Tony’s sister lives nearby. I’ll give her a call.”

  “Oh good, Aunt Janie.” Angie clasped her hands, pale cheeks flushing with delight. Cara inhaled sharply as Gail disappeared into her bedroom to call her sister-in-law, praying that Angie’s aunt would be available.

  Janie was there in five minutes. She was a female version of her brother: short, glossy chestnut hair, muscular trunk and limbs, the Cabella dark brown eyes, and dimples. She wore gray running shoes, a white sweatshirt over black spandex tights, and smelled of sweat.

  “Lucky I had my cell phone,” she said. “I was doing my morning run. Now what’s happened to my poor baby?” She rushed to Angie’s side and scooped her up in her arms.

  “Careful,” Cara said. “She hit her head a few minutes ago and passed out. She seems to be all right but Dr. Drakos says someone needs to be with her the next twenty four hours to make sure she doesn’t vomit or lose consciousness. Gail should be back from her tennis date in a couple of hours.”

  “Sure, no problem” Janie said. “By the way, what are you doing here? It’s been years, but you still look great.”

  Cara found it hard to believe Janie didn’t know she was the nutrition director at Sycamore, especially after all the media scrutiny last winter. “I’m here at Tony’s request,” Cara said. “He’s worried about Angie; she can’t seem to get her blood sugar under control these days.”