Bitter Pill (Sisterhood #32) - Fern Michaels Page 0,4

scolding and gave her mother a hug. “Mom, you know I want what’s best for you.” She tried to choose her next words carefully. “I’m just concerned about your health. That’s all.”

“To be perfectly honest, I haven’t felt this good in . . . , well, since I can’t remember when.” Charlotte had a lilt in her voice, which Maryann hadn’t heard in a while.

“I’m so glad. Maybe these treatments are working!” Maryann gave her mother another hug, but Charlotte stiffened and looked toward the vanity, where her pill bottles were.

“What? What is it, Mom?” Maryann stepped back and gave Charlotte a quizzical look.

Thinking about what she had been doing for the past several days—flushing her pills down the toilet—Charlotte decided to change the subject so as not to let on about her secret.

“You know how much I hate to fly.”

“Well, it is first class. At least if anything happens, you’ll go out in style!” Maryann thought she was being humorous, but it only made Charlotte shudder.

“That makes me feel so much better,” Charlotte replied sardonically. She took a deep breath and reached for her daughter. “I know you mean well, my dear. But I’m getting antsy, and besides, I think Liam would rather be spending more time with his friends than with his grandmother.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Liam loves you! He misses you all the time!” Maryann protested.

“I know, but he’s almost eight years old. Little boys want to go out and play with their friends. Not take walks every day or play board games. Spelled b-o-r-e-d.” That finally broke the tension, and both women laughed and hugged.

“You will call me when you arrive at Myra’s?”

“Of course, darling. But it is six hours’ difference. You may already be in bed.”

“Just do it, please.”

“I should be arriving at Myra’s around five in the afternoon their time, so it will be about eleven o’clock here.”

“That’s fine. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re safe and sound.”

“Safe, yes. Sound? To be determined.” Both laughed at the double entendre. Maryann grabbed the bigger of the two suitcases and headed out the door. Charlotte scooped up the meds and threw them in her tote bag.

At first, Charlotte had been going to flush all the pills, but then she had decided she should bring them with her. She still wasn’t sure if they were effective or not, but if her mood over the past few days was an indication of their usefulness, it was clear that she did not need them. Maybe she would ask Myra and Charles their opinion. Charles was not a doctor, nor was Myra, but between the two of them, they undoubtedly had connections to top medical professionals. Then she grimaced at her thoughts. Maybe it was too much to ask of her generous friends. She ultimately decided she would take each day as it came. That thought gave her a little peace of mind.

Minutes later, the lobby intercom buzzer sounded. “Ride for Mrs. Hansen.”

“She’ll be right down,” Maryann said to the disembodied voice that had come out of the box on the wall. She turned to her mother in earnest. “Please be sure to follow up with either Dr. Marcus or Dr. Steinwood.”

Charlotte grunted. “We’ll see, my dear. I’ll decide after I get back to Aspen.” She gave her daughter another big hug. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

The Range Rover was humming softly as the driver helped her inside. He stored her luggage in the rear compartment and handed her the tote.

Charlotte peered into the bag and checked the medicine bottles, almost six thousand dollars worth of pills. She had no idea what kinds of medicines they were, but she was determined to find out. She zipped the tote with the drugs, sat back in the luxurious leather seat, and willed herself to relax. She then recalled her other favorite movie quote, this time Vivien Leigh as Scarlett O’Hara—Tomorrow is another day. She smiled. Yes, I’m feeling much better today. Thank you very much.

Chapter 4

Pinewood

That same afternoon, the day of Charlotte’s arrival, Myra had Yoko bring armloads of flowers from her greenhouse to decorate every room in the farmhouse. It was still early spring, and Myra’s gardens were not yet in full bloom. Only the potted plants on the terrace, which Yoko had helped her plant, provided an array of color to brighten the end of a long winter.

Hearing the commotion in the foyer, Charles wiped his hands on his apron and joined several of the sisters, who were carrying what seemed like

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