Adelaide’s Last Secret
Chapter 13 - Adelaide’s Last Secret
Adelaide survived the respiratory crisis.
Barely.
By the time Marin reached the hospital, the old woman had been intubated and transferred to intensive care.
Dominic sat in the hallway with an ice pack against his ribs.
Rafe stood near the window.
Neither spoke when Marin arrived.
She went directly to the physician.
The tumor had not caused the crisis.
Aspiration had.
Adelaide’s weakened swallow had allowed fluid into her lungs.
They could stabilize her.
But waiting on surgery was no longer wise.
Marin listened to percentages and risks.
At the end, the surgeon asked, “Who has medical power of attorney?”
Dominic looked at Rafe.
Rafe looked at Marin.
Marin closed her eyes.
Of course.
Adelaide had changed it three weeks earlier.
The document named Marin Hollis.
When Adelaide woke the next afternoon, Marin was furious.
“You cannot keep appointing me to things without telling me.”
The old woman’s eyes smiled above the oxygen mask.
“I told the lawyer.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
“You could have asked.”
“I thought you’d say no.”
“I might have.”
“That’s why I didn’t.”
Marin stared at her.
Adelaide’s eyes softened.
“Poor choice.”
“Yes.”
“I’m learning.”
“At seventy-one?”
“Apparently I’m slow.”
Marin laughed despite herself.
Then she cried.
Quietly.
She hated crying in hospitals.
Adelaide reached for her hand.
The surgery was scheduled for three days later.
Elias was in federal custody.
Marin did not visit him.
She wanted to.
That was why she did not.
There were too many feelings still dressed as emergencies.
Instead, she sat with Adelaide.
Dominic came every evening.
Rafe brought terrible coffee.
Jonah disappeared after giving a sworn statement.
No one knew whether he had gone into witness protection or simply resumed the life of a man who preferred exits.
Two days before surgery, Adelaide asked Marin to close the door.
“There is one more thing.”
Marin groaned.
“No.”
Adelaide blinked.
“No?”
“No more secrets.”
“This one is about money.”
“Especially no.”
“It belongs to you.”
Marin stood.
“Absolutely not.”
Adelaide’s laugh turned into a cough.
When it passed, she reached into the bedside drawer.
A sealed envelope.
“Your father refused Carlo’s bribe.”
“I know.”
“Your mother refused mine.”
“I know.”
“So I put the money somewhere they could not refuse it.”
Marin stared.
“What did you do?”
“I created a trust.”
The amount was not fifty thousand dollars.
It was 2.4 million.
Invested over eighteen years.
Marin sat down hard.
“No.”
“It was Carlo’s money originally.”
“Then I definitely don’t want it.”
“I know.”
Adelaide looked at her.
“That is why the trust does not pay you.”
Marin frowned.
“It funds nursing scholarships.”
She stopped breathing for a second.
“For students from single-parent families. Your mother approved the language.”
“You spoke to her?”
“Once a year.”
Marin’s eyes filled.
“All those years?”
“Yes.”
“She never told me.”
“She made me promise.”
Marin looked away.
Another promise.
Another silence.
But this one felt different.
Not clean.
Nothing was clean.
Still different.
“What does this have to do with me?”
“You become trustee when I die.”
“Adelaide.”
“When I die someday, not tonight.”
“Still no.”
“You can say no later.”
The old woman squeezed her hand.
“But first read the list of students.”
The folder contained photographs.
Forty-seven nurses.
Men and women.
Some now working in oncology, pediatrics, emergency rooms, nursing homes.
One name stopped Marin.
Sophie Keene.
Harold Keene’s granddaughter.
Marin stared.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
Adelaide’s eyes closed.
“Life has an irritating sense of symmetry.”
The surgery went well.
Not perfectly.
But well.
The tumor was removed with clear margins.
Adelaide would need months of rehabilitation.
When Marin finally visited Elias, twelve days had passed.
He sat behind glass in a federal detention center wearing gray.
No suit.
No watch.
No people standing behind him.
She picked up the phone.
He did the same.
For a moment neither spoke.
“How is she?”
“Bossy.”
His eyes closed in relief.
“Good.”
“Dominic visits every day.”
“That is less good.”
“He brings crossword puzzles.”
“Cruel.”
Marin smiled.
Then the smile left.
“Your attorney says you’re pleading.”
“Yes.”
“To everything?”
“To what I did.”
“And the government?”
“Five to eight years, maybe less with cooperation.”
Her hand tightened around the phone.
“You say that like weather.”
“I don’t know how else to say it.”
She studied him.
There were new lines beside his eyes.
Or perhaps she was finally seeing them.
“Did you mean what you said?”
“Which part?”
“That you don’t want me to wait.”
“Yes.”
Her chest hurt.
“That’s arrogant.”
He looked surprised.
“You keep making decisions for me while pretending they’re sacrifices.”
Elias leaned closer to the glass.
“You deserve a life that isn’t built around visiting hours.”
“I know.”
“You deserve someone who can come home.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you angry?”
“Because deserving something doesn’t mean you get to choose what I value.”
He said nothing.
Marin continued.
“I am not promising you anything.”
“I know.”
“I am not putting my life on hold.”
“I know.”
“But if I come here, it will be because I chose to.”
Elias looked down.
When he looked up again, his eyes were wet.
Only slightly.
Enough.
“Okay.”
It was the smallest word he had ever given her.
It felt bigger than every order.
Before the guard ended the visit, Elias said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Marin almost laughed.
“If this family has one more secret, I am changing my name.”
“This one is mine.”
She waited.
“Vince wasn’t the only person who cooperated.”
“Who?”
“Dominic.”
Her expression changed.
“He’s turning over the hotel accounts, Meridian records, everything.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes.”
“But?”
Elias looked through the glass.
“He admitted one more thing.”
Marin’s stomach tightened.
“The photograph of you marked SECOND TARGET.”
“What about it?”
“Dominic took it.”
She went still.
“Why?”
“He says he was trying to protect you.”
May you like
Marin closed her eyes.
Of course he did.
