A woman dressed in a crisp nurse’s uniform came out of the door at the end of the hallway to meet them. “I’ve got the IV set up for hydration,” she said to the doctor.
He nodded and directed the orderlies into the room before he turned to Chloe. “You can wait in that bedroom to the right. As soon as we’ve got him undressed and in bed, we’ll see if he still thinks you’ll make it better.” He gave her a tight smile before he disappeared through the big door.
Chloe wandered into the bedroom the doctor had pointed out. It was decorated in a mix of modern and antique furniture that was surprisingly harmonious. “I guess he hired a really good decorator,” she muttered, trailing her finger over the smooth curves of a Chinese ceramic horse sculpture. The room had no personal touches, nothing that said someone lived in it, so she assumed it was a guest room. Sliding doors beckoned her past the seating area furnished with a deep yellow chaise longue that looked perfect for a long session with a good book.
She tested the slider and found it unlocked. “Well, duh, no one’s going to climb up fifty floors,” she reminded herself. Stepping outside the door, she gaped. The terrace spread out in front of her and to her left and right. Full-size trees in enormous terra-cotta pots rustled in the considerable breeze, while everywhere she looked flower boxes glowed with brilliant fall blossoms. Lounge chairs sat on platforms, so their reclining occupants could watch the ships and barges pass by on the Hudson River or enjoy the autumn-burnished cliffs gracing the shore of New Jersey. There were tables to eat on, folded-up awnings and umbrellas to cast shade, and a couple of burbling fountains.
All Chloe could do was stare. This demonstrated a wealth beyond anything she could wrap her mind around. Pulling the lapels of her jacket together to combat the brisk wind, she walked across the big square tiles to the railing, took a deep breath, and looked over. The cars and taxis seemed like toys as they zipped along the narrow street below. She straightened back up and fixed her gaze on a tugboat laboring up the Hudson River with its bow nudged against a barge three times its size. There were times when she felt like that tug, trying to keep herself and Grandmillie moving forward against the current that kept thrusting her back toward the churn of the ocean.
“Ms. Russell!” Cavill sounded annoyed.
She scurried back across the terrace, hoping he hadn’t been calling her for long. “I’m sorry. It’s such an amazing view,” she said.
He didn’t bother to answer that. “Nathan wants you to read him a report,” he said.
“A report?” This just got weirder.
“Some marketing report he said you’d worked on.”
“Oh, the one I edited. It’s on the computer at the office.”
“You have a smartphone?” the doctor asked.
Chloe pulled her Droid out of the handbag she’d been carrying around with her.
“Get someone to e-mail it to you on that.” Cavill spun on his heel and went back into the guest room, clearly expecting her to follow him. “What temp agency do you work for?”
“Flexitemps,” Chloe said, jogging after him. Why did he care about that?
Cavill slowed as they approached the master bedroom. “His temperature has been coming down slowly, and he’s sliding in and out of consciousness,” he said in a low voice as he pushed the door open.
Once again, Chloe caught the anxiety in his eyes and forgave the doctor for his abruptness with her.
She stepped into the room and blinked. Across the room in front of her was a wall of glass, with a view similar to the one she’d been drinking in on the terrace. Cavill turned left, bringing her gaze around to the bed set against the wall facing the windows. She hoped there were some heavy-duty shades to block out all that light.
She forgot all about views when she saw her boss lying in the huge bed wearing a dark-blue T-shirt. A sheet was pulled midway up his chest, and an IV was taped to one arm. His eyes were closed and looked as though they had sunk into his head. The unnatural flush still tinted his cheeks, and his hands twitched on top of the covers. The nurse, a stunningly beautiful blonde who looked to be about ten years older than Chloe, stood on the other side of the bed, checking a monitor.
Cavill gestured the woman over to where they stood about ten feet from the bed. He spoke in a low voice. “Tricia Oliver, meet Chloe Russell.”
The nurse shook her hand. “Mr. Trainor was asking for you just a moment ago.”
The doctor’s lips thinned. He pointed to a spot by the windows. “You can call about the report from over there.”