Free I, Alex Cross by James Patterson Page B

after all. Wasn’t that right?
    "Mrs. Cross," Dr. Englefield said, "you’re doing quite well, all things considered. I’d recommend one more night’s stay and then we can send you off."
    "I like that word,
recommend,
" Nana said. "Thank you for your recommendation, Doctor. I appreciate it. Now, if you’ll excuse us, my grandson is going to take me home. I have things to do today, cakes to bake, thank-you notes to write, and so on and so forth."
    With a quick shrug from Englefield, I let it go. So did she. Forty-five minutes later, Nana and I were on our way home.
    In the car, Nana reminded me of an old chocolate Lab we’d had when I was a kid in North Carolina, just before my parents died. The window was down and she was letting the air blow over her while the world flew by outside. I half expected her to start quoting Dr. King.
Free at last, free at last…
    Or maybe some choice line of Morgan Freeman’s from
The Bucket List.
    She turned to me and patted the upholstery with both hands. "How do they get these seats so comfortable? I could sleep much better here than in that hospital bed, I’ll tell you that."
    "So you won’t mind that we turned your room into a den," I deadpanned.
    She cackled and started to recline the seat. "Just watch me." But when she got too low, her laugh turned into a coughing jag. Her lungs were still tentative; it doubled her over with a hacking sound that went right to my gut.
    I pulled over and got a hand behind her until I could raise the seat again.
    She waved me off, still coughing but better. My own heart was working overtime. This recovery was going to be an interesting dance, I could tell.
    The coughing episode seemed like a good segue, so once we were moving again, I said, "Listen. Bree and I have been thinking about getting someone at the house —"
    Nana gave a wordless grunt.
    "Just for when we’re at work. Maybe half a day."
    "I don’t need some oversolicitous stranger hovering over me and fluffing my pillows. It’s embarrassing. And costly. We need a new roof, Alex, not nursemaids."
    "I hear you," I said. I’d been expecting that answer. "But I’m not going to feel comfortable leaving the house otherwise. We have enough money."
    "Oh, I see." She folded her hands in her lap. "This is all about what
you
want. I understand perfectly now."
    "Come on, let’s not argue. You’re going home," I said, but then I caught a little eye roll from her. She was just busting my chops because she could — for the sheer fun of it.
    Which was
not
to say she’d agreed to anything about any "nursemaid."
    "Well, at least the patient’s in a good mood," I said.
    "Yes, she is," Nana answered. We were coming onto Fifth Street, and she sat up a little higher in her seat. "And no one, not even the great Alex Cross, is going to get under her skin on a day as nice as this one."
    "A few seconds later, she added, "
No nursemaids
!"

Chapter 33

    A HASTILY MADE banner hung over the front door: it said
Welcome Home, Nana!
in a half dozen colors.
    The kids came streaking out as soon as they saw us. I ran interference and scooped Ali off the ground before he could tackle Nana on the walkway.
    "Gently!" I called to Jannie, who had already put the brakes on some.
    "We missed you so much!" she shrieked. "Oh, Nana, welcome home! Welcome, welcome!"
    "Give me a real hug, Janelle. I’m not going to break." Nana turned on like a lightbulb and grinned.
    Ali insisted on carrying Nana’s suitcase, which he thunk-thunk-thunked up the steps behind us, while Nana took my arm on one side, Jannie’s on the other.
    When we came into the kitchen, Bree was on the phone. She flashed a big smile Nana’s way and held up a just-one-second finger.
    "Yes, sir. Yes. I will. Thank you so much!" said Bree into the receiver.
    "Who was that?" I asked, but Bree was already rushing over to give Nana a hug of her own.
    "Gently!" Ali said, which cracked Nana up.
    "I’m not a basket of eggs," she said. "I’m a tough old bird."
    We