the doctor said as he approached. Robyn sprang to her feet, barely able to breathe. “So it went well?” “I couldn’t have asked for a smoother surgery,” the doctor told her. “Your grandmother came through extremely well. She’s already in recovery and you can see her in about an hour. She’ll still be out of it, so you’ll have to keep the visit short.” Robyn nodded, concentrating on sending out prayers of gratitude. T.J. was talking to the doctor, probably asking sensible questions that he would tell her about later, she thought, relieved to know that Eleanor was fine. “You need pie,” T.J. decided when the doctor left. “It’s one of those things. Pie after surgery.” “I didn’t have surgery.” He shook his head. “Why are women difficult?” He grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the waiting room. “I’ll get them to put extra whipped cream on it. You’ll like that.” “Pie does sound good,” she admitted, following him. “Now that the four-hundred-pound weight of worry is off my chest.”
