Chapter 3 More Tests and a New Wedding

Evelyn’s POV

I got to the hospital a little after seven.

Mom was awake, which wasn’t surprising. She barely slept there anymore. Every time somebody came in to take blood, check her temperature, hang another bag or ask the same questions she’d answered twelve times already, whatever sleep she managed to get was gone.

She was sitting up with the television on low when I came in.

“You came.”

“Rachel called me.”

“I told her not to.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that.”

Mom looked toward the door. “I’m going to complain.”

“Go ahead. She already ratted you out.”

“I wasn’t hiding anything.”

“Your blood count dropped overnight.”

“It’s done that before.”

I put my purse down and pulled the chair closer to the bed.

“That doesn’t make it better.”

She picked at the edge of the blanket instead of answering.

There was a breakfast tray in front of her. The eggs looked untouched. One corner of the toast was missing.

“You need to eat.”

“I tried.”

“You took one bite.”

“I took more than one.”

“Two?”

“Maybe.”

I pushed the tray closer.

She gave me a look but picked up the toast.

“How was the wedding?”

“Long.”

“Was it pretty?”

“It better have been.”

She smiled a little.

“The flowers came?”

I leaned back in the chair.

“No.”

Her hand stopped.

“No?”

“The roses never showed.”

“What did you do?”

“Found other ones.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you want, a reenactment?”

“I saw the pictures this morning. There were roses everywhere.”

“There were by the time the ceremony started.”

“Where did you find that many roses that fast?”

I hesitated.

Mom narrowed her eyes.

“Evelyn.”

“A funeral supplier.”

She stared at me for a second.

“They weren’t being used.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“I paid for them.”

“You bought somebody’s funeral flowers?”

“No. I bought flowers from a place that also supplies funerals.”

“That sounds very different now that you’ve said it properly.”

“I was tired.”

“You’re still tired.”

“I know.”

She tore off another piece of toast.

“Were you really on television?”

“For about five minutes.”

“You looked nice.”

“I looked exhausted.”

“You still looked nice.”

I reached for the coffee beside her bed and stopped when she slapped my hand.

“That’s mine.”

“It’s cold.”

“I know.”

“You hate cold coffee.”

“I’ve lowered my standards.”

“Apparently.”

She took the cup and drank it anyway.

The door opened a few minutes later and Dr. Shah came in.

“Good morning.”

Mom looked at her. “Is it?”

Dr. Shah smiled. “I’ll let you know in a minute.”

She came over to the bed and pulled up Mom’s chart on the tablet.

“Your repeat hemoglobin came back a little better. Seven point eight. I’m not transfusing you right now.”

Mom looked at me as if she’d won something.

I ignored her.

“What about the fever?”

“Still there, but lower than it was overnight.”

“And everything else?”

“Kidney function is a little better. Inflammation is still high.”

“So basically the same.”

“Basically.”

I’d gotten used to answers like that.

Better here. Worse there. Something improved while something else dropped. Every time they thought they were getting somewhere, another test came back and changed the direction again.

“What did Keller say?”

“He reviewed her file yesterday.”

“And?”

“He wants another panel.”

“What kind?”

“More extensive genetic and hematology testing.”

Mom groaned.

“More blood.”

Dr. Shah looked at her. “Unfortunately.”

“You people have taken enough of it to build another me.”

“Hopefully not. One Margaret is plenty.”

Mom gave her a look.

Dr. Shah glanced at me.

“Insurance hasn’t approved it yet.”

“How much?”

“I don’t have the number.”

“Can you find out?”

“Yes.”

“If they deny it, I need to know what it costs.”

Mom set her toast down.

“Evelyn.”

“What?”

“You’re not paying forty or fifty thousand dollars for another test.”

Neither of us knew what it cost yet, but she knew how these things usually went.

“I didn’t say I was.”

“You were thinking about it.”

Dr. Shah closed the tablet.

“We’re appealing it first.”

“How long does that take?”

“A few weeks, usually.”

Mom laughed once. “Perfect.”

Dr. Shah looked back at her.

“I know.”

She stayed another few minutes, went over the rest of the morning plan, then left.

Mom waited until the door shut.

“You have work.”

“I know.”

“So go.”

“I just got here.”

“And now you know I’m not getting blood this morning.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to leave.”

“You were at that wedding all day yesterday.”

“I’m fine.”

“You always say that.”

“Because I am.”

She picked the toast up again.

“You’re selling my apartment this week, dealing with me, running your company and whatever else you don’t tell me about.”

“There isn’t anything else.”

“That’s worse.”

I checked my phone.

There were already messages from Nora.

Mom saw me looking.

“Go.”

“I’ll come back later.”

“You don’t need to come back tonight.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Go home after work.”

“I’ll see.”

“That means no.”

“It means I’ll see.”

She shook her head.

“You get that from your father.”

“Being annoying?”

“No. Thinking if you keep moving nobody can tell you what to do.”

I stood and picked up my purse.

“I’ll bring you coffee later.”

“Real coffee.”

“Decaf.”

“Don’t bother.”

“I love you too.”

I kissed her cheek and left before she could start another argument.

By the time I got to the office, Nora was on the phone with somebody arguing about chair covers.

She held up one finger when I walked in.

“No, I understand what the invoice says. I’m telling you we didn’t order two hundred and forty of them. We ordered one hundred and eighty.”

She listened for a second.

“No. Sending extra does not mean we bought them.”

I took my coat off and went into my office.

She appeared a few minutes later with coffee.

“How is she?”

“Same.”

“Did they give her blood?”

“Not yet.”

Nora put the coffee down in front of me.

“Drink that before you start opening things.”

“Why?”

“Because somebody has been calling all morning.”

“Who?”

“Vescari.”

I looked up.

“Vescari?”

“Yes.”

“About what?”

“A wedding.”

I reached for the coffee.

“Whose?”

“Costanza Vescari.”

That got my attention.

I knew the name. Most people in New York did, even if they couldn’t tell you exactly what the Vescari family owned.

Banks. Buildings. Investment firms. Half the names changed depending on which article you read, but their money was everywhere.

So were the rumors.

Nora walked around the desk and opened my laptop.

“They emailed too.”

“You’re opening my email now?”

“You gave me the password.”

“For emergencies.”

“This is close enough.”

She clicked the message.

The email was from the Vescari family office. Short introduction. Private wedding. Eleven weeks away. They wanted me personally.

Then I saw the fee.

I leaned closer.

“Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Six hundred and fifty thousand?”

“Yes.”

“For planning.”

“I checked.”

I scrolled down.

“Half upfront.”

“That part I checked twice.”

I looked at her.

“What kind of wedding needs a six hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar planner?”

“One where they don’t want anybody saying no.”

“There’s always somebody willing to say no.”

Nora smiled. “That’s probably why they called you.”

I opened the first attachment.

The contract was long. The security requirements were longer.

Background checks for staff.

Approved vendor lists.

No press.

No social media.

No personal photography at the family property.

Restricted areas.

Security clearance for certain parts of the estate.

I stopped reading.

“No.”

Nora was sitting across from me now.

“You haven’t finished.”

“I’ve finished enough.”

“You’re really going to turn down six hundred and fifty thousand dollars without meeting them?”

“I have five weddings between now and theirs.”

“We have a staff.”

“We have a staff that already has five weddings.”

“We could bring in freelancers.”

“And spend eleven weeks teaching them how I work.”

“They’re not all idiots.”

“I didn’t say they were.”

“You made the face.”

“I don’t have a face.”

“You have several.”

I closed the attachment.

“This is going to be a nightmare.”

“Probably.”

“Then why are you pushing it?”

She pointed at the fee.

“That.”

“I saw it.”

“I know.”

My phone rang.

I glanced down and saw the hospital number.

Nora stopped talking.

I answered.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Brooks? This is Andrea from patient financial services.”

“Hi.”

“I’m calling about the testing Dr. Keller ordered for your mother.”

I grabbed a pen.

“Okay.”

“The insurance company denied the authorization.”

I closed my eyes for a second.

“Why?”

“They’re calling part of the testing investigational.”

“Can you appeal?”

“We already started one.”

“How long?”

“Usually thirty days. Sometimes a little less.”

“She’s admitted right now.”

“I know.”

“What does it cost if I pay for it?”

There was some typing on the other end.

“The current estimate is forty-eight thousand seven hundred.”

I looked at the number I’d been scribbling on the paper without realizing it.

“Forty-eight thousand?”

“Yes.”

“Does that include the hospital portion?”

“That should be the full estimate, but I’d need billing to confirm.”

“Can you have them call me?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

I hung up.

Nora didn’t say anything right away.

Then she asked, “Insurance?”

“Denied.”

“How much?”

“Almost forty-nine.”

“For the test?”

“Yep.”

She looked at the laptop.

I followed her eyes.

Neither of us said anything for a few seconds.

Then Nora leaned back in the chair.

“Take the meeting.”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“I’m not saying take the wedding.”

“You are absolutely saying take the wedding.”

“No. I’m saying go hear what they want.”

“I know what they want.”

“You know what they put in an email.”

“That’s usually a good start.”

“Evelyn.”

I looked at the screen again.

Three hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars upfront.

I could hear Mom already telling me not to do something stupid because of her.

I picked up my phone.

Nora nodded once.

“I’m not saying anything.”

“You don’t have to.”

The woman who answered sounded like she had been expecting the call.

“Vescari Family Office.”

“This is Evelyn Brooks. I’m returning a call about Costanza Vescari’s wedding.”

“Yes, Ms. Brooks. Thank you for getting back to us.”

“I can meet. I’m not agreeing to anything yet.”

“Of course.”

“What times does Ms. Vescari have?”

“She can see you today at five thirty if that works.”

“That’s fast.”

“The wedding is in eleven weeks.”

“Right.”

I checked my calendar.

“Five thirty works. My assistant will be with me.”

“Ms. Reed?”

I looked at Nora.

“Yes.”

“Not a problem. We’ll add her to security.”

“Apparently you already know who she is.”

“We require names in advance.”

“I didn’t give you hers.”

There was a short pause.

“Your office staff is listed publicly.”

Not her last name, but I let it go.

“Fine. Send me the address and anything else I need.”

“We will.”

I hung up.

Nora was watching me.

“They know my last name?”

“Looks like it.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“Probably not.”

“That didn’t sound convincing.”

“It wasn’t supposed to.”

She got up.

“I have to call the chair-cover idiot back.”

“Good luck.”

“I’m going to need it.”

The rest of the day went the way most days did. A tasting ran late because the groom suddenly decided he hated mushrooms after approving them two months earlier. A florist sent peonies that were three shades darker than the sample. One of my brides called crying because her future mother-in-law had ordered herself a white dress and wanted to know if I could tell her she wasn’t allowed to wear it.

I told her I could.

Nora told me I enjoyed that part of the job too much.

By five twenty, we were walking into Vescari Capital.

The lobby was quieter than I expected. Security checked our IDs, made a phone call and directed us to a private elevator.

Nora looked at me once the doors closed.

“They took a copy of my license.”

“They took mine too.”

“I know. I watched.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it.”

“There aren’t any buttons.”

I looked at the panel.

She was right.

The elevator was already moving.

“Okay, that’s a little weird.”

“Thank you.”

The doors opened on the forty-second floor.

A woman was waiting for us and took us down the hall to a conference room.

Costanza Vescari stood when we came in.

I recognized her from pictures, although she looked younger in person. She came around the table and held out her hand.

“Evelyn. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course.”

“And you’re Nora.”

Nora shook her hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Please sit. I have a lot to go over, and before you say anything, I know eleven weeks is awful.”

“At least you know.”

Costanza laughed.

“I’ve already fired four planners.”

Nora glanced at me.

I looked at Costanza.

“Four?”

“One was my fault.”

“That’s honest.”

“The other three were absolutely theirs.”

“Of course.”

“I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.”

She sat and started pulling things toward her.

“I don’t need somebody who agrees with everything I say. Tanner thinks I do, but he’s wrong.”

“Tanner?”

“My brother.”

I heard movement behind her.

I looked toward the other end of the room.

A man had been standing near the windows.

Black suit. Dark hair.

Same face.

Same man from across the street.

He looked at me like seeing me there was the most normal thing in the world.

Costanza followed my attention.

“Oh. That’s Tanner.”

I didn’t take my eyes off him.

“I know.”

Costanza looked between us.

“You do?”

“No.”

Tanner finally spoke.

“Not yet.”

I stared at him.

Then I looked at Costanza.

“I need to ask your brother something before we talk about flowers.”

She glanced at Tanner again.

“Okay.”

I looked back at him.

“Why were you standing across the street watching me last night?”