grip, man. He smiled despite himself. “Yes, my name is Kent Anthony. I believe you have a reservation for me. I’m with the Niponbank group.”
She nodded and punched a few keys. Kent leaned on the counter and looked back toward the men laughing in the lounge chairs. Several were shaking hands now, as if congratulating themselves on a job well done. Excellent year, Mr. Bridges. Stunning profits. By the way, have you caught wind of the young man from Denver?
The programmer? Isn’t he here somewhere? Brilliant, I’ve heard.
“Excuse me, sir.”
Kent blinked and turned back to the counter. It was the check-in clerk. The pretty dark-haired one. “Kent Anthony, correct?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“We have a message for you, sir.” She reached under the counter and pulled a red envelope out. Kent’s pulse spiked. It was starting already then. Someone other than the bonehead troop under Borst’s command had sent him a message. They had not sent it to Borst; they had addressed it to him.
“It’s marked urgent,” she said and handed it to him.
Kent took the envelope, flipped it open, and withdrew a slip of paper. He scanned the typed note.
At first the words did not create meaning in his mind. They just sat there in a long string. Then they made some sense, but he thought they had made a mistake. That they had given him the wrong message. That this was not his Gloria to which the note referred. Couldn’t be.
His eyes were halfway through the note for the second time when the heat came, like a scalding liquid searing through his veins from the top of his head right down his spine. His jaw fell slack, and his hand began to quiver.
“Are you all right, sir?” a voice asked. Maybe the clerk’s.
Kent read the note again.
KENT ANTHONY:
YOUR WIFE GLORIA ANTHONY IS IN DENVER MEMORIAL HOSPITAL STOP
COMPLICATIONS OF UNDIAGNOSED NATURE STOP
CONDITION DETERIORATING QUICKLY STOP
PLEASE RETURN IMMEDIATELY STOP
END MESSAGE
Now that quiver had become a quake, and Kent felt panic edge up his throat. He whirled around to face Borst, who had missed the moment entirely. “Markus.” His voice wavered.
The man turned, smiling at something Betty had just said. His lips flattened the moment he laid eyes on Kent. “What is it?”
Yes indeed! What was it? Leave these in power about him to their excesses before he’d had a chance to help them understand who he was? Leave the party in Borst’s hands? Good grief ! It was a preposterous notion!
Surely Gloria would be fine. Just fine.
Please return immediately, the message read. And this was Gloria.
“I have to go. I have to return to Denver.” Even as he said it, he wanted to pull the words back. How could he leave now? This was the pinnacle. The men laughing over there by the fountain were about to change his life forever. He had just flown two thousand miles to meet them. He had just worked five years to meet them!
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to take the meeting for me.” He shoved the note at his boss and stumbled past him, suddenly furious at this stroke of fate.
“Great timing, Gloria,” he muttered through clenched teeth, and immediately regretted the sentiment.
His bags were still on the cart, he realized, but then he didn’t care where his bags were. Besides, he would be right back. By tomorrow morning, perhaps. No, tomorrow evening was the Paris trip. Maybe on the way to Paris then.
Okay, Buckwheat. Settle down. Nothing has happened here. Just a little glitch. A bug. She’s only in the hospital.
Kent boarded a Yellow Cab and left the bustle at Miami’s Hyatt Regency behind. Gloria would be okay. Had to be. She was in good hands. And what was one conference? A dread fell into Kent’s gut, and he swallowed.
This had not been in the plans. Not at all.
CHAPTER SIX
THE WAITING room in Denver Memorial’s ICU wing was decorated in a rust color, but in Helen’s mind it was red and she wondered why they would choose the color of blood.
Helen
She nodded and punched a few keys. Kent leaned on the counter and looked back toward the men laughing in the lounge chairs. Several were shaking hands now, as if congratulating themselves on a job well done. Excellent year, Mr. Bridges. Stunning profits. By the way, have you caught wind of the young man from Denver?
The programmer? Isn’t he here somewhere? Brilliant, I’ve heard.
“Excuse me, sir.”
Kent blinked and turned back to the counter. It was the check-in clerk. The pretty dark-haired one. “Kent Anthony, correct?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“We have a message for you, sir.” She reached under the counter and pulled a red envelope out. Kent’s pulse spiked. It was starting already then. Someone other than the bonehead troop under Borst’s command had sent him a message. They had not sent it to Borst; they had addressed it to him.
“It’s marked urgent,” she said and handed it to him.
Kent took the envelope, flipped it open, and withdrew a slip of paper. He scanned the typed note.
At first the words did not create meaning in his mind. They just sat there in a long string. Then they made some sense, but he thought they had made a mistake. That they had given him the wrong message. That this was not his Gloria to which the note referred. Couldn’t be.
His eyes were halfway through the note for the second time when the heat came, like a scalding liquid searing through his veins from the top of his head right down his spine. His jaw fell slack, and his hand began to quiver.
“Are you all right, sir?” a voice asked. Maybe the clerk’s.
Kent read the note again.
KENT ANTHONY:
YOUR WIFE GLORIA ANTHONY IS IN DENVER MEMORIAL HOSPITAL STOP
COMPLICATIONS OF UNDIAGNOSED NATURE STOP
CONDITION DETERIORATING QUICKLY STOP
PLEASE RETURN IMMEDIATELY STOP
END MESSAGE
Now that quiver had become a quake, and Kent felt panic edge up his throat. He whirled around to face Borst, who had missed the moment entirely. “Markus.” His voice wavered.
The man turned, smiling at something Betty had just said. His lips flattened the moment he laid eyes on Kent. “What is it?”
Yes indeed! What was it? Leave these in power about him to their excesses before he’d had a chance to help them understand who he was? Leave the party in Borst’s hands? Good grief ! It was a preposterous notion!
Surely Gloria would be fine. Just fine.
Please return immediately, the message read. And this was Gloria.
“I have to go. I have to return to Denver.” Even as he said it, he wanted to pull the words back. How could he leave now? This was the pinnacle. The men laughing over there by the fountain were about to change his life forever. He had just flown two thousand miles to meet them. He had just worked five years to meet them!
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to take the meeting for me.” He shoved the note at his boss and stumbled past him, suddenly furious at this stroke of fate.
“Great timing, Gloria,” he muttered through clenched teeth, and immediately regretted the sentiment.
His bags were still on the cart, he realized, but then he didn’t care where his bags were. Besides, he would be right back. By tomorrow morning, perhaps. No, tomorrow evening was the Paris trip. Maybe on the way to Paris then.
Okay, Buckwheat. Settle down. Nothing has happened here. Just a little glitch. A bug. She’s only in the hospital.
Kent boarded a Yellow Cab and left the bustle at Miami’s Hyatt Regency behind. Gloria would be okay. Had to be. She was in good hands. And what was one conference? A dread fell into Kent’s gut, and he swallowed.
This had not been in the plans. Not at all.
CHAPTER SIX
THE WAITING room in Denver Memorial’s ICU wing was decorated in a rust color, but in Helen’s mind it was red and she wondered why they would choose the color of blood.
Helen
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