Royal Pains : Sick Rich (9781101559536) (11 page)

Chapter 14

Yesterday's rain had scrubbed the air, leaving the morning sky bright blue and cloudless. I decided to drive my trusty Saab down to the beach for a run. Several other people apparently had the same idea, and the beach road, two lanes that paralleled the beach, was crowded with joggers, walkers, and bicyclists.

As I ran I considered how far HankMed had come. I remembered when it first started. When Evan came up with the name. When Divya hired herself as my physician assistant. When we had no patients, except for Boris and the young lady who had fallen ill at his party, and to my mind no chances of attracting anyone to the practice. We had only my stethoscope, the trunk full of equipment that Divya had brought with her, and Evan's irrepressible nature.

My, how things had changed. Not Evan's nature—that wasn't going to happen—but just about everything else.

The practice was now booming. We had an ever-increasing population of patients, both mansion dwellers and normal folks who lived in modest houses and still worked for a living. Our clientele reached from Westhampton to Sag Harbor to East Hampton and we even had a few that came out from the city. Of course they came to their weekend homes, but they tended to hold off any doctor visits until they were here.

The HankMed van was a huge success and greatly helped the practice. That was all Evan's doing. Left to my own devices, I could never have made it happen. Fortunately, Evan got the idea in his head and wouldn't let go until the van was secured.

My brother the bulldog.

I have to admit that it was a brilliant idea. I've even told him that a couple of times. When I can tolerate his preening and prancing, that is.

By the time I finished my run and showered, Evan was up and Divya had arrived at Shadow Pond. The three of us restocked the van and then headed into downtown East Hampton to meet Danielle and Angela for breakfast at Frankie's Café. It was Angela's first venture out of her house since her surgery.

Last night when Evan told me about his breakfast plans, he said that Angela was apprehensive about leaving her house and that she'd feel better if Divya and I came along. I agreed immediately and convincing Divya to come took no time.

Most patients who have undergone a hip replacement go through the same anxiety when first getting back into the world and away from the protective environment of the hospital or home. This type of surgery leaves you feeling fragile and makes you walk with great care for fear of falling or stumbling and damaging the new body part. After a few ventures into the world these fears evaporate and life goes on, but the first one can seem daunting.

We parked in the lot half a block off Main Street and walked back to Frankie's. A white-and-green-striped awning shaded the wall of windows that fronted the sidewalk. The place was packed, but I saw that Danielle and Angela had snagged a table near the windows. Danielle waved to us.

“Have you been waiting long?” I asked.

“Just a couple of minutes.”

As soon as we settled at the table, a waitress appeared.

“Good morning,” she said. “I'm Sandy. Can I get you guys some coffee or tea?”

Everyone ordered coffee. She returned with a fresh pot and filled the five cups and then handed each of us a menu. “I'll be back in a couple minutes to take your order.”

“How are you doing?” I asked Angela.

“I'm fine. I wish everyone would quit fussing over me.”

“He's not fussing,” Danielle said. “He's your doctor and he's simply asking how you're doing.”

“I'm fine. Just a little out of sorts and more than a little frustrated.”

“And your anxieties about getting back into the world are common,” I said. “Everyone goes through it.”

“I know. I just want to be my old self again.”

“You will,” I said. “I know this can all be frustrating. Someone as active as you being slowed down like this is never fun.”

“And don't forget that walker. How did I get to be such an old lady all of a sudden?”

“That's not true,” I said. “You're much younger than most people your age.”

“Thank goodness. I thought you were going to say I was no lady.” She gave me a mischievous grin.

I held up my hands. “You'll never hear that from me.”

“Even if it's true,” Danielle said. She wrapped an arm around Angela's shoulders. “You're no lady, Grandma. You're a broad. One of the all-time-great broads.”

Angela laughed. “It's true. Your grandfather used to say that all the time.”

“What are you guys up to today?” I asked.

“I think Grandma and I will do a little shopping. Get her back into the world.”

“Good idea,” I said. “Just don't wear yourself out.”

“Won't take long,” Angela said. “I need to get back into shopping shape.”

“And then while Grandma takes her nap, maybe I'll run over to the costume shop.” She looked at Evan. “Are we still doing that?”

I looked at Evan and then Danielle.

“Evan invited me to the big costume party.”

The waitress reappeared and took our orders. I chose oatmeal and fruit while everyone else had eggs and bacon. Sandy said she would have it out in a few minutes

“So you're going to be a spy, too?” Divya asked.

“Unless we consider another option,” Evan said.

Divya crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Don't tell me you've finally decided to go as a bookkeeper.”

“Bookkeeper?” Danielle asked.

“Ignore her,” Evan said. “She likes to make jokes.”

“Some targets are simply too inviting.”

Danielle laughed. “Last night, after Evan invited me, he said he was going as a spy. I thought that would be cool, but then he said that Hank and—Jill, is it?”

“That's right,” I said.

“He said you guys were at first going as highwaymen but changed your minds.”

“That's true.”

“So Evan said that we might do that. Go as highwaymen.”

“Like a pair of thieves?” Divya asked.

Evan nodded. “Wouldn't that be cool?”

“It's basically the same outfit,” I said. “Boots, hat, and a cape.”

“Maybe you could throw in an eye patch,” Divya said. “That might make you look more sinister.”

“And then of course you'd have to have a pistol stuffed down your pants,” I said. “No self-respecting bandit would be found without his gun.”

“Evan with a gun in his pants would be dangerous,” Divya said. “He might shoot himself in a very indelicate location.”

Danielle laughed. “Actually he's not so much concerned about that as he is about giving up the cane he's been working on.”

I looked at him over the cup of coffee I held. “What cane might that be?”

“A spy cane,” Evan said. “One with a secret knife and a secret compartment for keeping poisons and messages.”

“In your hands that could be almost as dangerous as a gun,” Divya said.

“Stick with the spy,” I said. “It suits you.”

Evan held up his cell phone.

Evan R Lawson is a superspy.

After we left the restaurant, Evan caught a ride with Danielle and Angela, saying he needed to swing by Shadow Pond and pick up his car. He had a meeting scheduled with the manager of a new restaurant who was looking for someone to handle his employee health care program.

“What restaurant?” Divya asked.

“Renée's Bistro. It opened a few weeks ago. Down at the beach.”

“I saw it,” Danielle said. “It's near where we surfed.”

“Surfing?” Divya said. “Is that what it was?”

Danielle laughed. Evan scowled but didn't engage. I was surprised, since restraint wasn't one of his strongest qualities.

“They have a dozen full-time and twice as many part-time employees,” Evan said. “And they have no one doing their medical stuff. And best of all they've already agreed to hire HankMed, so today all I have to do is get the contract signed.”

“Good job,” I said.

“I agree,” Divya said.

Evan pulled his cell out. “Would you say . . .”

“Absolutely not,” Divya snapped.

After Evan, Danielle, and Angela drove away, Divya and I climbed into the HankMed van. First stop: the Bagel Shack to pick up coffee and an egg, ham, and cheese bagel sandwich before heading over to see Jill. I would have gotten her something at Frankie's, but she loved Bagel Shack. Especially their coffee.

When we reached the high school, nearly a hundred cars, trucks, and even a couple of motor homes were in the parking lot. The setup for the health fair was now in full swing. We continued through the two wide-open chain-link entry gates to the field area, veered to the left, and parked directly behind the evolving HankMed booth.

We locked the van and set out in search of Jill.

There were people everywhere, busily at work organizing their booths and preparing for the various athletic events. Right across the field from the HankMed booth several hospital employees were working on the extra-large Hamptons Heritage booth. We walked over. Jill wasn't there. One of the nurses, who was stocking a cabinet with medical supplies, said she might be at the obstacle course. Last she'd heard, she was headed that way.

That's where we found her—in the middle of the obstacle course that was being set up in one half of the football field. She stood at the end of the chalked long-jump runway watching two workers smooth the sand in the rectangular landing area with rakes. One of the obstacles the kids would have to negotiate. Just beyond it, another worker held a hose and was filling an equally long plastic tub, transforming it into a one-foot-deep water hazard. Beyond that, a series of two-foot-high bars to jump and finally a six-foot wall with a dangling rope to scale. I suspected that by sunset tomorrow there would be some very tired, wet, and sandy kids for exhausted parents to deal with.

Jill saw us coming and reached for the coffee before I had a chance to offer it to her.

“Man, I need this,” she said.

“Somehow I figured that would be the case.”

Divya held up the bag. “We also brought breakfast.”

“You guys are geniuses. All I've had today is coffee, and I'm starving.”

I looked around. “Where do you want to sit?”

“Let's walk over to your booth.” She headed that way and we followed. “Have you begun stocking it yet?”

“No. We have the supplies we'll need in the van. But I suspected I'd better get you your coffee and some food before dallying there.”

She laughed. “You're a lot smarter than you look.”

“Don't bite the hand that feeds you.”

“Divya has the food, so I think I'm safe there.”

“The abuse I have to put up with.”

“Poor baby. Divya, can you hear the violins playing?”

“Constantly.”

“You guys should have your own TV show.”

We reached the HankMed booth. When we'd walked by earlier, I hadn't noticed the three aluminum-framed, green cloth privacy screens that now stood against one wall.

I examined them. “You find these in storage?”

“In the basement. We have more if you need them.”

“This should do. Thanks.”

“You have two extension cords,” Jill said, pointing toward the pair of bright orange electrical cables coiled in one corner. “With two multi-plug outlets. If you think you might need more, I can make that happen.”

“I think this'll be fine,” I said. “Unless Divya thinks differently.”

Divya shook her head. “The computer will be on the desk and plug in there. The ultrasound machine, the digital microscope, and the portable X-ray, if we need them, there. This should work well.”

Jill snatched the bagel from the bag, peeled off the wrapper, and took a bite. “Mmm. This is wonderful.”

Divya sat behind the desk, and Jill and I each took an exam table, facing each other, feet dangling.

“Looks like it's going to be a great weekend,” I said. “We heard the weather report on the way over—it's supposed to be mid-eighties and sunny all the way through the middle of next week.”

“When it started raining yesterday, I thought, ‘Oh great, it's going to rain all weekend,'” Jill said.

“The eternal optimist.”

Jill took a sip of her coffee. “Are you trying to say I worry too much?”

“Not at all.”

“Right. Anyway, I would hate for rain to mess up all the stuff we've planned. The kids would be disappointed.”

“If the weather report is right,” I said, “you have nothing to worry about.”

“The operative phrase there is ‘if the weather report is right,'” Divya said. “Seems to me they're about fifty-fifty.”

“At best,” I said.

“Excuse me.”

The voice came from just outside the booth. I looked up to see a woman standing there with a young girl. The girl had a bloodstained white towel pressed to her forehead.

“Are you Dr. Lawson?” the woman asked.

“That's right.”

“Would you mind taking a look at my daughter? I know you're not set up yet, but I'm not sure what else to do. Except take her to the hospital.”

“What happened?” I asked, indicating the towel.

“She banged her head on the edge of the car door.”

“Stupid, huh?” the girl said.

“Not really. And not an uncommon injury.” I jumped off the exam table and patted its vinyl surface. “Hop up here and I'll take a look.”

The contract signed, Evan stood at the edge of the shared parking lot that extended between the newly minted Renée's Bistro and a seafood restaurant that had been there for more years than anyone could remember. Three teenage boys walked by, each in baggy trunks, no shoes, no shirts. Evan recognized them as the kids he had seen at the beach the other day. The ones that had harassed him about his wet suit. They didn't seem to recognize him, however.