“Hello...” Mel waved his hand in front of Griffin’s face.
“What’s up?” Griffin frowned at Mel.
“What’s up...what’s up with you?”
“Nothing. I assume those—” he gestured at the tablet with his coffee cup “—are the charts and test results you want me to review.”
“Yes, and please tell me that’s not the last cup of English breakfast tea you’re having.”
Griffin’s eyebrows came to attention. “When have you ever seen me drink tea?” Griffin replied, tossing the empty K-cup in the trash. “What happened to the old coffeepot?”
“It’s been retired.” Mel handed Griffin the tablet and went in search of the tea K-cups.
Griffin accepted the tablet, took his coffee and avoided the leather sofa and chairs in favor of a seat at the conference table, where he started flipping through the charts.
“So...” Mel said, taking a seat across from Griffin at the conference table.
“So...what?” Griffin replied, not bothering to raise his head as he continued to read through the charts.
“Who was the woman at the airport?” he asked before taking a sip of his tea.
Griffin raised his head and frowned. “How did you...? Doug. Damn, gossip sure travels fast around this place.”
“Of course. The women at this hospital, and all the surrounding hospitals, for that matter, love chasing after you. They want to know if you’re off the market. Hell, the men around here do, too. Maybe if you are, some of these women will give the rest of us a shot,” he explained, laughing.
Griffin’s phone beeped, indicating he’d received a text. “Man, please. You get just as much attention as I do,” he reminded his friend as he checked the incoming message.
“True, but who was she?” Mel pressed.
A wide smile crawled across Griffin’s face. “Just an old friend.”
“Just. By that stupid look on your face, she’s not just anything.”
True. She could have been the one. We were perfect for each other; the best of friends. Becoming lovers was the next natural step. Too bad she couldn’t see it.
Griffin sat back in his chair and took a drink of his coffee. He knew his friend and colleague was right; Felicia wasn’t just anyone. “She’s this brilliant doctor that’s—”
“Beautiful, from what I hear.”
Griffin nodded slowly. “That she is, but she’s so much more.” He took another sip of his coffee.
Mel slid his empty cup away from him. “She coming...or going?”
“I thought Doug told you. I saw her collecting her baggage, so she was obviously coming into town.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Mel scratched his head.
“Well, what do you mean?” Griffin asked, turning his attention back to the tablet.
“Is she coming or going from your life?” Mel clarified.
Griffin met his friend’s eyes, his face void of expression. “I don’t see Mrs. Cartwright’s CT scan results here.”
Mel smirked. “Okay, I get it. It’s none of my business. Her results weren’t ready,” he said, standing. “I’ll go check again.”
“That would be great.” Once the door closed behind Mel, Griffin stood and stared out the window. He thought again about what Mel had asked and said, “That’s a damn good question.”
* * *
Felicia sat with her legs crossed at her ankles, taking in her surroundings and feeling very grateful that her sister had made arrangements so she could change into her gray pencil skirt and gray-and-white blouse, something much more appropriate for her meeting. The Andy Warhol painting and Persian rugs in the immaculately decorated lobby of the law offices of McCormick and Associates screamed sophisticated wealth.
“Dr. Blake? John McCormick.” A sandy-haired man, medium-built, introduced himself, offering his hand. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.”
“No, not at all, and it’s Felicia,” she said, accepting his hand.
“All right, Felicia, and I am John. Please come in.”
Felicia followed John into his office. The large mahogany desk that was placed in the center of the room sat in front of a large window and was surrounded by wall-to-wall law books, several of which she recognized from Farrah’s office. A long leather sofa sat to the right of the desk, a wooden, glass-topped bar by its side. Felicia took a seat in one of the high-backed leather chairs that faced his desk. John took a seat behind his desk and pulled out a thick file folder from his desk drawer.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything to drink? Coffee...water?”
“No, thank you,” she replied, tamping down her impatience. “I’d just really like to know what this is all about. I don’t understand why Valerie would give me anything, let alone make me the sole beneficiary to her estate.” Her brows knit together. “We haven’t seen each other in years. Our careers went in different directions, and mine taking me halfway across the world made the Sunday brunch catch-up sessions we talked about having after graduation impossible. I haven’t even spoken to her since she and Harry got married.”
John’s face was tense. “I understand you have questions and I’ll do my best to explain as much as I can.” John exhaled. “About a year ago, Valerie came to me for help.”
Felicia leaned forward in her chair. “What kind of help?” she asked, a tad of curiosity coursing through her. “Sorry, I’ll let you finish.”
John’s mouth twisted up. “She wanted me to redraft her will. Something she’d been planning ever since she’d received that settlement from Harry after their divorce. Well, as part of that process, she told me a rather interesting story.”
“Like what?”
“You were aware of her several bouts with ovarian cancer, bouts that she overcame, right?” he asked, his oval-shaped face void of expression.
“Yes, of course.”
“And you were part of the group of friends that helped her through her first recovery?”
“That’s true,” she said.
“I understand you all organized blood drives, donated hair for wigs. and some even participated in a couple more dramatic actions, like the guys making sperm donations.”
Felicia offered a small smile as bittersweet memories came to mind. She wondered what the efforts of several of their friends had to do with the present. “We were young medical students...impulsive, I guess. But that was such a long time ago. What does any of that have to do with whatever this is about?”
“Everything, actually. You see, someone’s act of kindness was taken advantage of, and I’m here to make things right,” he confessed. “As right as I can, anyway.”
Felicia’s frown deepened. “How so?”
“By making sure my client’s wishes are adhered to without anyone getting hurt, especially you.”
“Me? What are you talking about?” Felicia said as an uneasy feeling besieged her, much like when she had to deliver bad news to world leaders.
“I’m going to make sure that what Valerie wants you to have remains yours. Her bequest is rightfully yours on every level.”
Felicia questioned, “Rightfully mine?”
“I’d