The doctor had ordered a series of tests—not because of her broken leg but because of her blood pressure reading taken in the emergency room. “Will she be all right, do you think?” Mari asked Ward as they waited for the doctor to speak to them. For most of the evening they’d been sitting in this waiting room. Ward paced and drank black coffee while Mari just stared into space worriedly. Lillian was her last living relative. Without the older woman she’d be all alone. “She’s tough,” Ward said noncommittally. He glared at his watch. “My God, I hate waiting! I almost wish I smoked so that I’d have something to help kill the time.” “You don’t smoke?” Mari said with surprise. “Never could stand the things,” he muttered. “Clogging up my lungs with smoke never seemed sensible.” Her eyebrows lifted. “But you drink.” “Not to excess,” he returned, glancing down at her. “I like whiskey and water once in a blue moon, and I’ll take a drink of white wine.
