Free Just Surrender... by Kathleen O'Reilly Page B

complete with an impeccable Windsor knot. By the time he’d left the garish hotel, Tyler was in perfect control again.
    Yeah, right.

    T HE SIDEWALK IN FRONT OF the hospital was buzzing with picketers, nurses marching with handmade signs, chanting catchy union jingles such as “Terminal wages, terminal care,” “Sucky wages, Sicky patients” and the one which Edie had proudly created herself—“A poorly paid nurse is a pain in your ass.”
    Although Edie believed in better wages for society’s caretakers, she wasn’t there because of it. Primarily, Edie believed that the health-care industry’s blood lust for profit had erased the word care from health care, which was way too wordy to fit on a sandwich board. Or, alternatively, she could have been there because the hospital was St. Agnes’, which happened to be where Dr. Jordan Higgins worked.
    Across the street, Edie’s mother was holding a Bloomingdale’s bag. A darkening scowl creased her face. Clarice Higgins didn’t support Edie’s more militant leanings. Completely undeterred by such apathy, Edie waved cheerfully, which only deepened her mother’s scowl. Of course, today was her parents’ wedding anniversary, and if Edie were in her mother’s Jimmy Choos and knew her husband wouldn’t be home until the crack of dawn, then Edie would probably be scowling, too.
    Not wanting to cause her mother more undue stress, Edie motioned the union rep over and planned her retreat. “Thanks for coming to us at the last minute, doll,” the woman told her. “What hospital did you say you’re from?”
    “St. Jordan’s,” Edie improvised.
    “Never heard of it. Want to put in a few more hours? Lacey needs a break, and the Jersey union hasn’t shown. Probably still at lunch, the lazy dogs.”
    “Give me a sec and I’ll ask,” Edie said, returning her sign to the woman’s well-motivated hands. “My mother is across the street. She only has one kidney and it’s not good for her to be out in the heat. Malpractice, the bastards. Very sad. It’s the reason I went to nursing school. To prevent these sorts of medical screwups, and to keep the focus on the sick, rather than those hotshot Hollywood docs who have egos bigger than the sun.”
    The woman nodded with sisterly solidarity, then bumped Edie’s fist, and waved her off. “Go be with your mother. You never know how long you have. God go with you, and remember—kicking ass for the nursing class.”
    Now officially free, Edie jogged over to where her mother was waiting, her Jimmy Choos tapping with the amazing power of the truly upset. “I thought you were going to see your father. Did you pick this meeting spot on purpose?”
    “Who? Me?” asked Edie, blinking innocently.
    “I take it your father didn’t see you picketing?”
    “No.”
    Her mother shot a disgusted glance at the hospital. “Damn.”
    Edie smiled, pleased to see that beneath the five-thousand-dollar powder-blue suit, beneath the five-hundred-dollar protein hair treatments, beneath the 24-karat gold-plated exterior was the still beating heart of the woman who had danced naked at Woodstock.
    “Mom, you little anarchist. You’ve been reading Karl Marx for book club again, haven’t you? Should I tell Dad?”
    Her mom tipped her Gucci glasses downward, shooting Edie a death-laser look. “You do, you die.”
    “So where are we going for lunch?”
    “Someplace with fabulous desserts. Saks?”
    “Sounds fab. What are you getting for your anniversary this year?” asked Edie, spying the blue Tiffany’s bag. At her mother’s signal, a cab instantly appeared.
    In short order, they were settled in the backseat and jetting off for 5th Avenue. Edie’s mother nodded toward the bag. “Diamond bracelet and matching necklace,” she whispered.
    “Dad’s got great taste,” Edie whispered back, knowing that her mother had picked it out, and not quite understanding why her mother didn’t protest more. Clarice Higgins was a great human