by Noelle Fox
Yet it would be odd for the lawyer to offer an all-expense paid trip if he wasn’t.
“Mommy? Can we go to the park this afternoon?” Bree came out of her bedroom, trailing her blanky. Ever since Bree’s illness, her daughter and the ratty pink blanket were connected at the hip.
She pulled Bree and the blanky into her lap and pressed a kiss to her little girl’s forehead, gauging her temperature the old-fashioned mommy way, rather than using the fancy temporal thermometer she used in the clinic. Bree had finished her second course of antibiotics a full week ago, but Hannah knew her once active and energetic daughter was still feeling the effects of her long illness.
“Of course we can.” She cuddled Bree close and tried not to think about everything that still needed to be done. For one thing, she had medical school loans to pay, and this month’s lag time would present the perfect opportunity to do some moonlighting at the local urgent care clinic. Not to mention, she needed to arrange for Bree to enter a K-4 program in the fall when Hannah started her full-time job.
She set Bree back down and began clearing their lunch dishes before heading out to the park. Bree loved to swing; if she took a nap afterward, all the better.
Rainbow Park was within walking distance. The minute the swing set came into view, Bree ran toward it. Hannah strapped Bree into the child safety swing and gave her a strong push.
“Higher, Mommy, higher!”
Hannah obliged, smiling at the joyous sound of Bree’s laughter. Moments like this made her heart swell with gratitude for the pediatric specialists who’d cared for her daughter at St. Louis Children’s. For some odd reason, Bree’s pneumonia had stubbornly refused to go away, until the infectious disease specialists provided a unique blend of intravenous antibiotics for the little girl.
The memory of those long nights, listening to the rattling in Bree’s lungs still haunted Hannah. There was nothing more helpless than watching your child suffer, something she didn’t want to experience ever again.
“Wheee!”
Hannah pushed the swing again and again, trying to ignore the idea of a two-week all expenses paid vacation poking like a thorn at the back of her mind. So what if it was a timeshare sales pitch? Maybe two weeks of relaxing in the sunshine, watching and listening to the ocean was exactly what her daughter needed.
Forty-five minutes later, Bree’s energy flagged, so Hannah took her home and put her down for a nap—another holdover from Bree’s illness, the little girl slept more now than she used to. Grabbing her phone, Hannah punched in the number of the lawyer who’d sent the letter.
“James Whittaker, how may I help you?”
Oddly enough she hadn’t expected him to answer personally. Didn’t lawyers have assistants? Paralegals? She took a deep breath. “Hi, this is Hannah Shaw. You sent me a letter.” The statement came out more accusing than she’d intended.
“Yes. Dr. Shaw, I did. Thanks for calling. I know you’re probably thinking there’s some sort of catch here, but I assure you there isn’t.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Well…uh…” The lawyer sounded downright confused by her question, not at all the smooth-talking sales pitch she’d expected. “Because your father asked me to make these arrangements for you, you know, before he, um, passed on.”
“You realize I’ve never met the man, right? I don’t even know his name or anything about him.” That fact hadn’t bothered Hannah too much until this odd letter brought the non-relationship with her father crashing back. Her mother had always gotten so upset when Hannah mentioned the guy, she’d backed off of asking.
“His name is—er—was Dick Wiggins. Trust me, he wanted nothing more than to share his favorite part of the world with you. The current owner of the resort is Mr. Wakefield. May I tell him when you’ll be arriving?”
Dick Wiggins? Seriously? Sounded like total geeksville. No wonder her mother hadn’t wanted to talk about him. Obviously a person couldn’t help what name his parents chose to bestow on him, but still. Hannah immediately pictured a skinny guy with mousy brown hair and a bad case of acne. She was a little surprised her Mom would go for that type. Then again, they had both been allegedly drunk at the time.
Ah, prom.
“Dr. Shaw?” James cleared his throat as if he were nervous. “Do you have other questions for me? Anything I can say to assure you this is a perfectly legitimate offer?”
She should ask a dozen questions but what came out of her mouth was, “My daughter and I would love to come.”
“Really? Excellent. When shall we expect you?”
“I can leave by the end of the week, if convenient.”
“Of course. Mr. Wakefield will be delighted.” James went on to explain how Hannah could make the necessary travel arrangements. It was more complicated than she’d imagined, starting with the extremely long flight from St. Louis, Missouri to Seattle, then on to Ketchikan. Not to mention the puddle jumper she’d have to take to Klawock on Prince Charles Island, rounding the whole trip off with a ferry ride to Polaris Island. That was a lot of freaking traveling with a newly turned four-year-old.
Was she crazy? Would this trip hurt Bree more than help her?
Hannah was determined the trip could only help, so she quickly booked it.
Bree deserved a vacation. And frankly, so did Hannah.
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