Free Fortune's Cinderella by Karen Templeton Page B

smiled. To Christina, Ethan Allen clearly had a different connotation than to dear Aileen, to whom Ethan Allen reeked of bourgeois. Poor woman never had recovered.
    “I’m sure it’s fine. But couldn’t your mother have taken you?”
    “Apparently not. And now I need you to leave so I can get dressed.” She grimaced at the strange assortment of clothes piled on the bed, picking up the shiny, lurid purple…things. “Although dressed might be overstating it.”
    Chuckling, Scott left her to it. But he’d no sooner shut her door behind him than his phone buzzed—a text from Wendy: In OR
    waiting room. Dr here. Where r u?
    On my way, he texted back.
    Twenty minutes later, Scott stood on the hospital’s rooftop deck, his phone clamped to his ear. He’d caught Dr. Rhodes as the man was about to leave for the very gala the Fortunes were supposed to be hosting. Scott succinctly relayed what Javier’s surgeon had said about his case—that they’d operated to relieve the pressure, were keeping him in a medically induced coma until the swelling subsided—then released a sigh.
    “They’re not even being ‘cautiously optimistic.’”
    “Understandable, given the circumstances. Although obviously I can’t comment, not being familiar with the case—”
    “That’s why I’m calling. To see if you’d consider flying out—on our dime, of course—to see Javier yourself.”
    “Damn, Scott…I’m sorry. With my schedule that would be very tricky. But you said San Antonio Memorial?”
    “Yes.”
    “Liz Cuthbert’s head of neurology there, as I recall. We did our residency together a million years ago. She’s excellent, trust me.
    In fact, if I ever needed a neurologist, I’d want it to be Liz. I swear. Look…what I can do is give her a call, make sure she’s aware of the case. And I’ll be glad to consult by phone, if Liz thinks it’s warranted. But your friend is in very good hands already. And their rehabilitation facilities are second to none.”
    “If you’re sure…”
    “Couldn’t be more so. Can’t promise miracles—I learned a long time ago that way lies madness—but I can promise you if any team could pull him through, it’s that one. But, from the sounds of it, you all are damn lucky things weren’t a lot worse. Please give my best to your parents, won’t you?”
    Marginally reassured, Scott slipped his phone back inside his pocket and returned downstairs to check on his parents. His mother was overjoyed to be reunited with her luggage, especially her carry-on with her jewelry.
    “Jewelry can be replaced, Mom,” Scott said, as she pawed through the various pieces with her good hand, her eyes alight.
    “And if I’d bought it for myself, I’d completely agree with you. But your father gave me each and every one of these. And that can’t be replaced. And yes, I know he probably had his PA pick out half the pieces—”

    Try all of them. But whatever.
    “—but in his case, it really is the thought that counts. Especially since I know he’s never bought jewelry, personally or otherwise, for any other woman. Except for your sisters, of course,” she added with a smile.
    That much was true, at least, although his mother’s conviction was a testament to her faith in her husband. That, or the services of a private investigator. Still, for all his father’s faults—his workaholic tendencies, his emotional detachment—he’d never cheated on his wife. And not, Scott knew, for lack of opportunity, since he’d witnessed firsthand his father rebuff any number of all-too-eager, would-be successors to his mother. And with, as far as Scott could tell, not even a trace of regret.
    Oh, yeah, his father had left broken hearts strewn all over Atlanta. But his mother’s was not one of them.
    As if on cue, John Michael appeared at the doorway to his wife’s room, the only man on earth who could manage to still look dignified in a faded hospital gown and wrinkled cotton robe. “I asked the nurse