I stared at him. My scrubs still smelled like Ellie’s cough syrup. The night before, I’d caught the tail end of his phone call from the hallway, packing list, Mom, I’ll bring the adapter, and told myself it was another weekend at the lake house.
“Fourteen days,” I repeated.
“She needs to relax, Rach. You know how her blood pressure gets. The doctor practically ordered it.”
“David, the kids have the flu. Both of them. Sam’s fever hit 103 last night.”
He waved a hand as if I were reading him a weather report.
Everything is for Mom, I thought.
“You’re a great mom. You can handle a couple of sniffles. My work bonus finally came through, so the timing is perfect.”
“A work bonus,” I said slowly.
“Premium suite. Balcony. She’s never had anything like it.”
I set the washcloth down before my hand could shake.
“And what about the trip we talked about? The one with the kids in August?”
