An Eggshell Present: An Abishag’s Fourth Mystery (Abishag Mysteries Book 4)

by Michelle Knowlden

  “Mr. Crowder?” Mom asked.

  Hastily, I scraped some canapés, veggies and dip, and a handful of teeny apple pies onto an empty plate and pushed it into Connor’s hands. “That should be enough for you both.”

  He looked curiously at us again, and then disappeared down the hall.

  Mom frowned at me. “I don’t think that’s proper food for a man in a coma, Leslie.”

  I started to say something, but Kat spoke over me. “I believe your husband is not a criminal, Mrs. Greene, but I cannot emphasize enough that his bid for the state senate is in grave danger. The only connection to these holding companies is your husband’s initials on the receipts and emails approving contributions over the legal limit.”

  Mom stared at Dad aghast. “Gerry, you’ve been framed.”

  I asked urgently, “Do you remember signing those receipts, Dad?”

  He shook his head. “I always told ‘em to do what’s best.”

  “Told who, Mr. Greene?”

  He scratched his head. “You?” He gestured at Kat.

  Kat exhaled. “I wasn’t working on your books then, Mr. Greene. This would have happened six to eight months ago.”

  “Can’t you ask Sebastian?” Mom sounded impatient. “If he’s over his coma, then he can say who signed for your father.”

  The last thing I needed was my mother reporting that my husband had risen from near death before I told Tina or the Abishag agency. I distracted her with the truth.

  “Mom, it’s important to understand that Dad’s personal computer shows him logging in the contributions himself. Unless he can remember who actually did it, he is the only one guilty.”

  Mom bit her lip. Seeing how stricken she looked, I felt sorry for her. An unfamiliar emotion.

  Even Dad looked worried. “But I don’t remember. That should prove me innocent, yes? I would know if I’d entered the data myself.”

  “Mr. Greene, I have experience with investigations of this sort,” Kat said. “If you give me permission and full access at Vote Greene headquarter, we’ll do everything in our power to stop you from going to prison.”

  “I would be most appreciative,” Dad said.

  “And make sure he’s elected too,” Mom said.

  Kat hesitated. “We’ll do our best. Isn’t that right, Les?”

  I had been chewing on a carrot and thinking about what to tell Tina and the Abishag Agency about Sebastian. I blinked at Kat and then at Mom who stared at me expectantly. Dad was peeling bread off another sausage.

  “We’ll do our best,” I repeated.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Why did you promise my parents something we can’t deliver,” I said.

  Kat tossed the last of the catering boxes into the trash. “We’ve done forensic accounting before, Les. And Fitz is a genius. We’ll figure out who hacked your dad’s computer. If we can’t, we’ll follow the money.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I know you can. But you also promised to get him elected.”

  “Oh, that.” She sealed the bag and headed for the bins in the garage.

  “Kat!”

  She turned slowly, and I saw her eyes twinkling. “You worry too much about things that don’t matter. Let it go.”

  “If my dad loses the election and we both know he will, my mother will blame me.”

  “So? You’ll avoid her calls for a few months. She’ll be on a new mission soon enough. You know Penelope Greene always has a Plan B.”

  I went back to wiping down the dining room table and thought about what Kat said. People on the outside saw things differently. It didn’t mean they understood about the unbearable tension that lay ahead.

  Sebastian had never understood it either. Like Kat, he encouraged me to stand up to my mother. I don’t know why they thought that would fix anything. Like Kat said, Mom always had a Plan B. If she didn’t stick a knife in me today, there was always the dagger tomorrow.

  When Kat returned from the garage, I said, “I’m spelling Connor for an hour, and then I’ll take a nap.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m going to the store. I’ll make goulash for dinner tonight and warm up some for Dog later. He loves it.”

  I felt a twinge of guilt but only nodded and headed for the back room. In my past Abishag marriages, Dog and Kat rarely had time alone or even together, and those times had been so short. Since he began interning this year and taking shifts with Sebastian when home, it’d been weeks since they’d had any couple time.

  The three of us needed to talk soon about Sebastian’s status change. Another reason I avoided telling Tina and the agency. I expected Florence Harcourt would have the agency lawyers dissolve my contract with the Crowders. Although I had only an Abishag marriage with Sebastian, I didn’t think I could bear being separated from him.

  Tina might let me stay on and help with his care. I could never predict what she would say or do. Hard to predict what Sebastian wanted. I suspected he’d miss Dog more than he would miss me.

  I pushed the door open, and Connor’s eyes brightened. Sebastian was awake, the pegboard on his lap. More pegs in the board than lost in the blankets. I hoped that was a good sign.

  Sebastian and I needed to talk.

  Leaning against the open window, I felt a light breeze laden with the faint fishy smell of the ocean. I waited for Connor to shut the door.

  Sebastian concentrated on the pegboard, his hand still clumsy, aiming a fat yellow peg into a yellow hole.

  “Sebastian?”

  He looked up and the peg dropped from his fingers.

  He grimaced. “Les.”

  I walked to the bureau, looked at the chair next to the bed, and hesitated. His gaze followed me. Maybe it would be better to stand further back when I talked to him about Tina. About the Abishag agency. About the possibility of our Abishag marriage ending.

  “You eat lunch?” he asked.

  Had he sensed that I had something difficult to discuss? Before the accident, Sebastian always tried to make it easier for me to tell him … well, anything.

  “Thanks for asking,” I said. “I did have lunch. Same food as you had. My parents brought it for us.”

  Something seemed to flicker in his eyes. “Your parents?”

  Surprised, I said, “Gerry and Nell Greene. Do you remember them? Dad’s running for State Senate. You worked on their finances.”

  “Maybe.” His attention drifted to the door. “Difficult.”

  I sighed. “I know it’s difficult to remember …”

  He shook his head. “Difficult lady.”

  I laughed. “No kidding. What do you remember about her?” I felt a surge of hope. Maybe he was beginning to remember more about the last two years.

  He frowned and then started when a cell phone on the bureau suddenly vibrated loudly, hopping across the wood. Connor had left it there again. Automatically, I checked caller ID. Hazelton, T. It went to voice mail.

  Sebastian’s attention drifted to the door again.

  “Want me to get Connor?” I asked.

  He exhaled. “No.”

  Still he looked at the door. Was he waiting for Dog again?

  I sat in the chair and took his hand. “Sebastian?”

  His gaze drifted back to me. Though it had nothing to do with his mother or telling the agency about his recovery, I had to know. “Why do you want to talk to Dog?”

  “Can’t tell.”

  That shocked me so much, I squeezed his hand too tightly. He winced. Immediately I loosened my grip on his hand, keeping in mind that he was still healing from terrible injuries.

  “Why can’t you tell me?” I asked.

  “Don’t re...member.”

  I tried to puzzle it out. “Would Dog remember?”

  He nodded, his head jerking awkwardly. “Hope so.”

  Hope. Not an easy concept for someone severely brain-damaged. Hope, that thing with wings. Maybe Sebastian would recover fully. Maybe despite what Dog and Doctor Ingram said, I could start hoping, too.r />
  I smoothed Sebastian’s dark hair from his forehead, and his smile came and went. He touched my hand.

  “I re-member this,” he said.

  I grimaced mockingly. “Me doing this? Or maybe some other girlfriend.”

  His eyes softened. “No. You.”

  I swallowed and said in a rush, “Sebastian, should I tell the Abishag agency? I mean about you doing so much better? It would mean, it might mean, that we couldn’t stay married, because you don’t need an Abishag wife anymore.”

  His hand jerked in mine. Something rippled across his face, and he flung my hand away.

  “Never mind.” I said hastily. “We don’t need to tell them …”

  Sebastian opened his mouth, but only said, “…ack…” He went rigid, shaking violently.

  I froze for an instant. Then I ran for the hall, yelling for Connor. I called 911 while Connor restrained him through his convulsions. Moments later, Sebastian went slack, fearfully unmoving and terribly silent.

  The ambulance arrived in ten minutes. While the paramedics worked on him, Connor told me to get my purse, probably trying to get me out the way. Thomas’s old study couldn’t hold more than three people at a time.

  Remembering the long days I lived in hospital waiting rooms, I packed bottled water, cans of mocha, and a bag of trail mix. My heart racing, I paced the hallway and then moved into the living room when they rushed a gurney to the study. Minutes later, they rolled Sebastian through the front door, and I followed them to the ambulance.

  “I’m going with you,” I told the paramedic as they slid Sebastian in.

  Connor tugged me away from the ambulance. “Let them go, Leslie. We’ll follow in my car.”

  Fighting tears, I nodded.

  I locked the townhouse door, wondering when we would return. Then I ran for Connor’s SUV as he pulled out of his parking space.

  About halfway to the hospital, I remembered that Kat had gone to the market. I called her cell and got voicemail. I left her the name of the hospital and asked her to tell Dog.

  Because I could not bear to think of anything else, I thought only of the goulash that probably would not be made tonight. As we pulled into the parking lot, I started to cry. Connor said nothing, and I did not explain.

  Connor had called me Leslie as we were standing by the gurney. Before that, he’d only called me Mrs. Crowder. I couldn’t say why that shattered me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I called Doctor Ingram while Connor and I sat in the emergency waiting room. Then I called Mrs. Timmons and Tina. In that order. I told Mrs. Timmons not to come, and that I’d call her later if Sebastian’s situation turned dire. Tina said she would be there in 30 minutes.

  How would I (or should I) tell her about Sebastian waking and talking? Had I robbed her of that brief time where she could tell her son good-bye?

  Would it have been easier if Sebastian had died without waking? How cruel (or kind) was this brief hope that he’d recover and be himself again?

  Hope deserted me. Completely. I did not believe that Sebastian would survive this horrific seizure. I did not believe he would wake again before dying.

  Kat rushed into the waiting room fifteen minutes later, her face ashen. While she held my hand in a death grip, Connor told her what happened.

  When he stepped out to call the hospice agency, Kat said, “I knew something was wrong when I walked into the house. It was too quiet. I dropped the grocery bag and ran into Sebastian’s room. Paper, gauze, tubing everywhere.” She took a shuddering breath. “Thank God, you left me a message.”

  “Did you call Dog?”

  She shook her head and took another long breath. “I’ll call him now.”

  She stood on the other side of the vending machines, leaning against the wall, her face hidden in the shadows. I think she was crying.

  Later she said, “He’ll come straight here when he gets off. Unless …” She bit her lip and said firmly, “Unless we tell him to meet us at the house.”

  Before I could do more than nod, Connor returned. He halted uncertainly in the doorway.

  “You should go home,” I said. “We’ll call your care facility if, when, we need you again.”

  “I can wait till Douglas returns,” Connor said.

  It always took me a minute to remember Dog’s first name. “He won’t be back till after ten. Kat and I will be fine. Doctor Ingram’s on his way, and Sebastian’s mother is coming.”

  He ducked his head. “Then I’ll wait for your call.” He hesitated and pulled a plain card with just his name and cell number from his wallet. “If you need anything, Mrs. Crowder, please call me direct.”

  I took it gingerly, not sure what to say. He wheeled and walked quickly out the door.

  “You do attract good-looking males.” Kat smiled wryly.

  “He’s just being nice, Kat.” Changing the subject, I handed her the bag of drinks and trail mix.

  Before she could open a mocha, I spied Doctor Ingram talking to a doctor down the hall. I leapt to my feet. Throwing an arm around me, Kat held me tight till he stepped into the waiting room. She released me when I stepped forward, and Luke took my hands in his.

  “How is Sebastian?” I asked.

  “Stable,” he said. “You remember that I told you seizures were common with his type of brain injury?”

  “Not really,” I said. “But Dog will explain it to me later. Is Sebastian dying?”

  “He’s not in immediate danger, Leslie. But you should prepare yourself. He won’t be able to survive many attacks like this one.”

  “Prepare myself for him dying?” I sagged into a chair near me.

  Still holding my hand, Luke sat in the chair next to mine. Behind her concern, Kat cast a sardonic look at our clasped hands.

  “I hope he does survive, but it’s best to prepare for any eventuality, yes?” He smiled his professional smile of perfunctory comfort.

  “Yes.” I pulled my hands from his. “May I see him?”

  “Perhaps tomorrow morning. We’ll have the test results then. He should sleep through the night. So should you.”

  None of my previous husbands had returned to the hospital from hospice care. Sebastian had now returned twice. Abandoning him to a cold institutional night seemed against every rule in the Abishag Wife’s Handbook.

  “His mother is on her way here,” I said. “May I look in on him for just a second? She’ll want to know …”

  “Tomorrow,” Luke repeated.

  My pleading look wasn’t making any headway. At that moment, Tina swept into the waiting room. “Leslie, what’s happening?”

  I jumped to my feet. “Tina, you remember Luke, Doctor Ingram? Doctor Ingram, this is Tina Crowder.”

  “Mrs. Crowder,” he said guardedly. Tina maintained a difficult relationship with some of Sebastian’s doctors.

  “Miss Crowder,” she said. “Leslie is the only living Mrs. Crowder.”

  “Sebastian had a seizure, Tina,” I said. “Doctor Ingram says he’s stable now.”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand. He’s in hospice. Why was he brought here?”

  Luke’s eyebrows rose. “Due to the change in his status, Leslie, Mrs. Crowder, made the right decision in calling 911.”

  She raked a harried hand through her hair. “What change in his status?”

  Before Luke could spill the beans, I said, “Douglas Kovic will explain it to us, to you, later. Doctor Ingram says we should return in the morning to get the test results. I just wanted to see Sebastian before we left.”

  I may have overdone the pathos in my voice. Still confused, Tina turned on Luke. “Of course we must see my son. Where is he?”

  Bowing to the inevitable, he said, “Come with me.”

  As if she were invisible (and quite a feat with her dread locks, piercings, and tats), Kat gathered our things and followed us.

  Sebastian wasn’t in ICU bed number six as he had after the accident. He was in a quiet corner of the emergency room w
here a curtain surrounded each bed. Pale and still as death, he still seemed better without his mouth foaming and that wild blankness in his eyes.

  Shock marked Tina’s face. She hadn’t been to the Santa Monica townhouse since his removal there. She hadn’t seen Sebastian since he had left the hospital to die. In the past six weeks, his wounds and injuries had mainly healed. He was now recognizable as Sebastian.

  “He looks well,” she said.

  He moved restlessly, and she gasped.

  I slipped around Luke. “Sebastian?”

  He didn’t open his eyes, but his breathing changed.

  She rounded the other side of the bed. “Is he awake?” Without waiting for a response, she poked him.

  Before the doctor could protest, Kat touched Tina’s shoulder. “Miss Crowder, perhaps it’s best we leave him alone. We’ll see him tomorrow morning. Doctor Ingram can explain his current status before he leaves.”

  “Of course,” Luke said and steered her to the exit. “Would you like some coffee?”

  Kat stopped before she followed them out and nodded at Sebastian. “He’s awake,” she whispered to me. Then she was gone, too.

  I leaned closer and gasped when he opened his eyes.

  “Les?” He slurred my name.

  I swallowed a sob. “How do you feel?”

  “Tired.” It came out “tarred.”

  “The doctor wants to keep you overnight, but I’ll be back first thing.”

  “’kay.”

  “Your mother, too.”

  “O…kay.” This he accompanied with a sigh.

  In a rush, I said, “I should have told her right away. My fault. I shouldn’t have waited.” Guilt riddled my voice.

  “I waited.” For a second, I thought Sebastian was back to repeating what he heard. Then I saw a ghost of a smile on his lips. “My mother…diff...cult lady, too.”

  My breath caught, and then I grinned. “No way. Tina’s a peach compared to my mom. Thanks for being nice about it. I’ll go talk to her now.”

  I swiftly kissed him. Hope stirred when I saw him smile again.

  “Guilt me.” His voice sounded more blurry, and his eyelids drooped.