Angel Falling Softly - By Eugene Woodbury Page 0,3
they’re doing. I think it’s the same Wylde guy who funded a wing at the hospital.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m going to be late.” She leaned over and pulled on her shoes.
Milada said, “I’m going to try and get you onsite. It’s what they’re really doing that matters. Not what they say they’re doing in press releases.”
Kammy’s head popped up. “What? Oh, sure. That’s cool.” She rose to her feet at the same time Edward returned with the folders.
“Is there anything else?” he asked stiffly.
“No. This should keep me busy for the time being.”
Kammy grabbed her slicker and hat and followed Edward out the door. She said in a loud-enough voice for Milada to hear, “Hey, don’t take it personally. When she travels, my big sister’s a bitch to everybody.”
Milada shut her eyes. Hearing the door close, she opened her eyes and scanned through the folders. The filings for the current year-to-date were missing. But she’d had her fill of Edward. Instead she spent the rest of the morning answering correspondence, devoting her attention to anything from Jane, her broker Garrick Burke—the family was his only client—or her stepfather, Michael.
The conference room door opened. A young secretary said, “Ms. Daranyi? You’ve got a call from Ken Garff Mercedes.” Noticing the absence of a phone, she darted out of the room and rushed back in with a telephone, which she plugged in next to the network cable. “Line two,” she said.
Milada hit line two. “Milada Daranyi.”
“Ma’am?” said a male voice on the other end. “Oh, yes, Ms. Daranyi. The S500. We don’t have the tinting you ordered in stock. It should be here by Thursday, Friday at the latest.”
“That’s fine. Please call me when the car is ready.”
She gave them her cell phone number and hung up. The secretary again poked her head into the room. “Ms. Daranyi? Um, want to get some lunch? The Seagull Room.” She bobbed her head toward the ceiling. “It’s pretty good.” She spoke with a complete lack of conviction.
Milada said, “That sounds nice—” The sentence trailed off with an obvious question mark at the end.
“I’m Karen, Karen Talbot.”
“Well, Karen, shall we plan for twelve-thirty then?”
The secretary took a deep breath, showing more relief than she’d probably intended. She nodded and smiled and ducked out of the room.
Chapter 5
A good example is the best sermon
Rachel opened her eyes. The book she’d brought with her lay open but unread in her lap. The clock on the wall said one o’clock. She always tried to be home when Laura returned from school, so she’d better get going. There was no telling what might come up between here and there.
She bade the nursing staff good-bye with a smile and a nod to Veralee, Jennifer’s critical-care nurse, who returned her pleasantries. “See you tomorrow, Sister Forsythe.”
Yes, tomorrow, Rachel thought darkly. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. When Jennifer started on the chemo, Rachel had stayed overnight at the hospital for a week. She was better acquainted with the night shift at Deseret Children’s Hospital than with most of her neighbors.
She walked down the open staircase from the third floor. Freed from the calm cocoon surrounding her daughter’s bedside, she found that the vague feelings of anger, the glimmering sense of upset, returned. It was something more than the cosmic injustice of it all. It was David. He’d powered Jennifer through the chemo with prayer and raw emotional muscle. But then came the GVHD and the coma, and he was out to sea. He did things with the kids or did things for them. Faced with a child who did nothing, he had nothing to give. It was easier to work and tend to his flock. Easier to deal with other people’s problems.
But hadn’t she wanted to be a bishop’s wife? Come to believe she’d earned it? Deserved it? No, not growing up. Not when they were first married. And not even when David was briefly elevated to the stake high council. Nevertheless, there was little subtlety in the politics of picking a Mormon bishop. When David was called as first counselor four years into Bishop Ackerlind’s term, everybody knew David was going to be the ward’s next bishop.
She found herself looking forward to that which she’d once scoffed at. It would be like being first lady, enjoying no de jure authority but having all she said taken with extra seriousness.
Though by now it was beginning to wear. All things being equal, it was the hours of David not being