“I’m stable,” I said.
“You had heart surgery six hours ago.”
“I do the crossword in pen,” I said.
Gloria looked at me over her red glasses. Then she smiled.
“I’ll call Dr. Elena Ruiz in the morning,” she said. “She’s the best in Seattle. And she can’t stand people who try to take old women’s houses.”
Chapter Seven: The Flowers
My children came back the next morning.
It was Wednesday, a little after ten. I was sitting up in bed eating red Jell-O. My chest hurt, but my head was clear. The surgeon had been by at eight and said everything looked “textbook.”
I heard them before I saw them. Sarah’s laugh in the hallway. Michael saying something about the vending machine. David telling them both to keep it down.
Then they came through the door.
Sarah first, carrying a big bouquet of yellow roses wrapped in cellophane. Michael behind her with a balloon that said GET WELL SOON. David last, in his gray work suit, holding a manila envelope.
