Emily's Choice (15 page)

“I’m sorry
for yelling at you earlier, Dad.”

Clint nodded
and pulled Emily in for a hug. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you in front of him.”

“I need you
to understand, though, that we’re not getting back together. It’s beyond repair,
and when I no longer need to be here, Sadie and I are returning to Boston.”

“I hear you,
but you need to understand that I don’t agree with your decision. I don’t want
to make you any angrier, but I will not give up trying to persuade you to stay.”

“Well, so
long as we understand each other.” Emily smiled.

“Indeed.”
Clint smoothed a hand down Emily’s face. “Jason and Sadie are bringing pizza
back with them this evening, and we’re
gonna
eat here
before dispersing to our respective hotels.”

Nodding,
Emily sat down at “her” table. “Sounds good.”

“I’m going
to run out and do some errands while Grace is in testing. Call me if I’m not
back by the time she’s done?”

“Sure, Dad.
Is there anything I can do for you?”

Clint shook
his head. “No, I just need a haircut. I’m going to pick up some toiletries. I
don’t like what they have in the hotel. And see if I can find a couple more
books to read.” He pulled on his button shirt. “Anything is better than sitting
around here waiting. I think I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime.”

“I’m just
going to sit here and try to get some work done. I’ll let you know if I hear
anything.”

Clint nodded
his thanks and walked out of the waiting room.

Emily was deep
in conversation with Phil when Hope and Tyler returned from lunch. She had
designs spread all over the table and three chairs lined up by the table.

“No, Phil, I
just don’t think that’s going to work. She hates pastels; it’s written clear as
day on this order.”

“But maybe
she doesn’t know she likes pastels. I’m telling you, we need something to
soften up the room.”

“I agree,
but we’re going to have to figure it out without the use of pastels.”

“What if we
give her two options? One with pastels and one without? And we don’t even have
to use a lot of pastels, just a pale yellow or green would go a long way to
softening up that room.”

“I guess
that would be okay, but we offer it as a last resort. You know if we offer it
first, she’ll close her mind to it as soon as she sees the pastels and that’ll
be the end of the presentation.”

“Works for
me.”

“I hate this
room. Who designs a room with barely any windows? It’s a nightmare.”

“You can
only add so many lamps to the room before it becomes too cluttered.”

“Exactly.
Okay. Well, you come up with the design using pastels, and I’ll work on mine.
We can talk later and compare notes.” Emily took a sip of her Pepsi. “Did you
send out the acceptance letter?”

“Yeah, it
went out with this morning’s mail run.”

“Have you
heard from Jenny? How’s her project?”

“I haven’t,
but I’m sure she’s working away on it.”

“Yeah. Okay,
we can talk about the rest tomorrow. But this one is due tomorrow, so let’s get
it done.”

“I love
having a plan for my afternoon. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.” Emily
hung up and eyed her siblings. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,”
Tyler snickered.

Hope shook
her head and tried to hide her smile.

“What?”
Emily asked again.

“It’s just
you’ve turned this waiting room into a conference room-type place, your papers are
everywhere, and have you seen your hair, Medusa?”

“What?!”
Emily shrieked. She ran out of the room and straight to the bathroom. Between
the wind and her hands, they were right. She looked like a nightmare. Doing her
best to repair her hair, she returned to the waiting room. “Anything good to
eat down there?”

“The usual
hospital cafeteria fare,” Tyler replied. “I had a greasy cheeseburger with
fries, and this one,” he said thumbing Hope, “had a nice healthy salad.”

Hope stuck
her tongue out at him. “There’s a nice selection. You can pretty much find
whatever you feel like.”

Emily
nodded. “Okay, I guess I’ll go eat before I begin working on this project. I
need some fortification. You guys need anything?”

“Nah,” they
said in unison.

“Okay. Dad
went out to run errands. He wants a call if we hear anything ahead of when we’re
supposed to.”

Tyler
saluted her. “We’ll be good soldiers and guard the situation. Never fear,
fearless leader, we’ve got this!” he mocked.

Emily’s
smile was tight. “Good. See you in a bit.”

When he was
sure Emily was out of earshot, he turned to Hope. “What’s her problem?”

“What are
you? An idiot? She’s in close quarters with Jason. Dad’s being relentless in
his pursuit to keep her in
Mosquero
, and I’m pretty
sure he’s pushing hard for her to patch things up with Jason.”

“Seriously?
Dad
is doing this?”

“Yeah, it’s
weird, I know. But Mom being here must have opened his flood gates of opinions.
She told me they got into a huge argument before she came to get me at the
airport. And apparently Jason heard some of it.”

“Oops.”

“Yeah. She
was mortified.”

“Well, can’t
say I disagree with Dad.”

“Me either.”

“Do you
think we should get involved?”

“I’m not
getting involved. You do what you want, but I’m staying out of it. I live with
her, no way I’m taking a public stand. Nope!”

Tyler
laughed. “Smart. I might join you and just sit back and watch the fireworks.
There’s bound to be some more.”

“Yep.”

Thirty
minutes later, Emily swung into the room. She threw a bottled water to her
sister and a Mt. Dew to her brother. “Figured after your gossip session, you’d
be parched.”

Tyler raised
his eyebrow and Hope’s jaw dropped.

“Please, you
think I don’t know? My ears were burning the whole way through lunch.”

“You give
yourself way too much credit,” Tyler said. “You only took up about a minute of
our conversation.”

“I bet,”
Emily said and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “So, whose side are you
on?” she asked, swinging her eyes from one to the other.

“I don’t
know what you mean,” Hope said.

“Really?”
Emily lifted an eyebrow and tapped her foot.

“We’re on
the winner’s side.” Tyler laughed. “We’re total bandwagon groupies.”

“Funny.”
Emily smirked.

“We just
want you to be happy,” Hope said in a calm voice.

“Oh, I know,”
Emily said sarcastically. “Everyone just wants me to be happy and somehow they
think that involves moving back here and taking up with the cheating jerk.”

Hope sighed.

Emily waved
her hand in the air. “Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“May the
best man win!” Tyler shouted.

Emily
laughed and shook her head. “You’re so weird,” she said, sitting down at the
table. She pulled up her email and tried to block out Tyler and Hope’s
conversation.

Their easy
banter made it hard to concentrate and left her wanting to join the
conversation. It wasn’t often that she felt left out, but today was one of
those days. Between Jason sneaking up on her and her argument with her father,
not to mention the conversation she was sure Tyler and Hope had had about her,
she was feeling off. Left out. Out of the loop.
However
you wanted to phrase it, she didn’t feel right and it bothered her.

She normally
would be fine, setting up her
office
and getting her work done. Ignoring
the easy banter of her siblings. But today was impossible, and it was the worst
possible day for it. She needed the escape and this project was not only due
next week, but she and Phil still had so much to do. The client would be coming
into the office on Wednesday at 2:00 p.m. and Phil would be presenting their
designs.

From the
beginning, Emily knew this project would be trouble. Maryanne Thompson was the
client, and she was fairly well-known and hoity-toity in Boston. They were old
money, and Maryanne was not shy about informing anyone who would listen about
how her husband’s family had made a mint in the railroad business and
miraculously kept it by diversifying their investments. They’d been smart, she’d
often say. They hadn’t taken their newfound wealth for granted and because of
that, look where they were.

She had a
very narrow view of design, and Emily couldn’t fathom why she’d chosen their
firm for her design needs. They were anything but old-fashioned, their tastes
running toward modern and contemporary. The thick draperies and wallpaper of
long ago held no desire for anyone in their firm, but it was what appealed to
Maryanne Thompson, and by all that was holy, she’d have new everything—drab as
can be.

Emily was
determined to give Maryanne what she wanted, but modernized. Instead of
wallpaper, Emily was experimenting with different paints and paint designs. As
for the draperies, Emily couldn’t see any way around them. There was one window
in the room, nothing spectacular. It seemed to Emily that it was added as an
afterthought, with no real thought to the aesthetics. She was hoping Maryanne
would be amenable to having a slight remodeling project to make the window
bigger and grander. Opening up the room and letting in more light.

Which the
room could definitely benefit from. And if she felt like being unkind, which
when she had to speak with Maryanne was quite often, the room’s owner could
benefit from more light as well. Brighten up that dark and drab personality.

Emily shook
her head and pulled up her design plans. Phil would be presenting three
designs, though he didn’t know it yet. There was his design, incorporating the
pastels Maryanne despised. Emily’s first design, which basically is a mirror of
what is currently there, just new. And her third design, with the bigger
window, new paint, and no draperies.

She hoped
Maryanne liked the designs they offered but was prepared for a negative
reaction. She just hoped, if Maryanne did indeed hate the designs, she didn’t
go spreading it around like wildfire. Especially with Kendra out of the country
and unable to help with staving off the bad review.

Taking a
deep breath, she tried one more time to dive into her work, but she just couldn’t
concentrate. And when her father walked in a couple of minutes later, she knew
it was over for good. She’d just have to work tonight, after Sadie and Hope
went to bed and burn the midnight oil to get it done.

She closed
her laptop and put it in her briefcase and then rolled up the design plans,
putting an elastic around them and setting them on the chair next to her
briefcase.

“Done
working so soon?” Clint asked her.

“Not
exactly, but I’m having a hard time getting into the groove. I’ll work tonight
after Sadie’s in bed.” Emily stood and stretched. “Did you get your errands
done?”

“Your hair
looks nice, Dad,” Hope gushed. “Where’d you go?”

“Some
quicky
haircut place down the street. It was next to the
drug store. Got my toiletries and some books. Counting it as a win.” He sighed
and glanced toward the door. “Your mother’s not done yet?”

“Not that we’ve
heard or seen,” Tyler answered.

Clint looked
at his watch. “Guess it’s only been an hour and a half.” He sat down heavily on
the chair and opened his book. “Maybe they’ll be done with her by the time I
finish this book.”

No one knew
what to say, so they sat in silence as Clint read, lost in their own thoughts.

Forty-five
minutes later, the doctor came in. “Mr.
Camancho
?”

Clint shot
to his feet, the book falling to the floor next to him. He bent down to pick it
up, holding it nervously in his hands. “Yes?”

“I’ve
reviewed all the results and I’m sorry to say that there is still no brain
activity.”

“But how is
that possible? She reacted to the song,” Clint asked.

“We think
that was an involuntary movement,” Dr.
Mosler
explained. “The next step is discussing removal of the life-support systems and
letting Mrs.
Camancho
go.”

“What?” shrieked
Hope. “No, no, no. That’s not an option. She could still get better!” She
turned to Clint. “Couldn’t she, Daddy?”

Tyler and
Emily wrapped their arms around Hope, shushing her while the doctor continued
to speak with Clint.

“I understand
this is not what you were hoping to hear. It’s certainly not what I was hoping
to convey to you this afternoon. Mrs.
Camancho
has
sustained a large amount of trauma to her brain, and it is our opinion that she
will not recover from it.”

“What about
a second opinion?” Emily asked.

Dr.
Mosler
nodded. “I would be happy to provide you with the
names and contact information of several neurosurgeons.”

“Assuming we
don’t obtain a second opinion, when would you recommend disconnecting my wife
from life support?”

“That is
completely up to you, Mr.
Camancho
. I know this is a
difficult time, and I know that a decision of this nature is not made lightly.
She is in no pain, so if you need a day or two, I’m happy to accommodate you.”

“Can we have
a few minutes to discuss this?” Clint asked.

“Of course.
Just have the nurses page me when you’re ready.”

Clint nodded
and sat down on his chair. He dropped his head in his hands and took a shaky
breath.

“Daddy!
Please don’t. Please don’t make this decision without a second opinion. I mean,
that doctor doesn’t even look old enough to be out of high school!” Hope
pleaded. She was on her knees in front of him, hands wrapped around his
forearms.