leave the hospital, to forestall any suggestion of having lunch Hannah said, “Dad, I’m going to the office. There are a few things I should do, and I’m much better off being busy than sitting home.”
When they stepped onto the street, they found a media crush awaiting them.
“What is Kate Connelly’s condition?” reporters demanded to know. “Why was she in the museum with Gus Schmidt at that hour of the morning? Did she tell you she was going there?”
“My daughter’s condition is very serious. Please respect our privacy.” A cab was dropping someone off at the curb. His arm around Hannah, Doug forced their way through the crowd and pushed Hannah into the backseat. He jumped in himself and pulled the door shut. “Get going,” he snapped to the driver.
“My God!” Hannah exclaimed. “They’re like a pack of vultures!”
“It’s only the beginning,” Douglas Connelly said grimly. “It’s only the beginning.”
11
D espite her father’s urging to go home and get some rest, Hannah firmly insisted on being dropped off at her office across town on West Thirty-second Street. “The company is planning a press release to announce a new designer’s line,” she said. She did not mention that the new line would have her name on it.
At the corner of her office building, she opened the cab door and gave Doug a peck on the cheek. “I’ll call you the minute I hear anything. I promise.”
“Are you going back to the hospital tonight?”
“Yes. And unless the doctor calls and there’s a reason to go earlier, I’ll get there around seven.”
The tap of the horn from the car behind them made Hannah realize that she was holding up the traffic. “I’ll talk to you later,” she said hurriedly as she stepped onto the sidewalk. The busy street, packed with pedestrians shoulder to shoulder and racks of clothes being ferried from one building to another, was a sight that Hannah usually loved, but today it offered no comfort to her. Though it was not raining, the raw, damp wind made her hurry into the building.
Luther, the security guard, was at the lobby desk. “How is your sister, Ms. Connelly?” he asked. After the media crush outside the hospital, Hannah had realized that the fire was breaking news andshe needed to be prepared to answer questions about it and about Kate.
“She was gravely injured,” she said quietly. “We can only pray that she will make it.” She felt as though she could read Luther’s mind. What was Kate doing in that place at that hour? Without giving him time to ask her anything else, Hannah moved quickly to the elevator. It was only when she got to her office and dealt with the surprised reactions of her fellow workers that she realized that no one had expected to see her today.
Farah Zulaikha, the company’s head designer, tried to send her home. “We’re putting off the announcement for a better time, Hannah,” she said. “There’s going to be a lot of publicity about the fire for at least a few days. Some people who live near the East River told me they could see the flames from their windows.”
Hannah insisted on staying. She told her that it was better to be here than just sitting in the hospital or at her apartment. But once she was in her small and cluttered office with the door shut, she sat at her desk and buried her face in her hands. I don’t know what to do, she thought. I don’t know where to turn. If Kate doesn’t make it, or if she lives but is brain damaged, she won’t be able to defend herself if they try to say she was responsible for setting off the explosion.
How many times in the last year or so had Kate openly said that the plant should be closed and the property sold? All our friends knew it, Hannah thought. Kate and I each own 10 percent of the assets, but every quarter for two years we’ve been running at a loss. Thank God we had enough in dividends to buy our apartments when we did.
Did Kate use the words “blow it up” to
When they stepped onto the street, they found a media crush awaiting them.
“What is Kate Connelly’s condition?” reporters demanded to know. “Why was she in the museum with Gus Schmidt at that hour of the morning? Did she tell you she was going there?”
“My daughter’s condition is very serious. Please respect our privacy.” A cab was dropping someone off at the curb. His arm around Hannah, Doug forced their way through the crowd and pushed Hannah into the backseat. He jumped in himself and pulled the door shut. “Get going,” he snapped to the driver.
“My God!” Hannah exclaimed. “They’re like a pack of vultures!”
“It’s only the beginning,” Douglas Connelly said grimly. “It’s only the beginning.”
11
D espite her father’s urging to go home and get some rest, Hannah firmly insisted on being dropped off at her office across town on West Thirty-second Street. “The company is planning a press release to announce a new designer’s line,” she said. She did not mention that the new line would have her name on it.
At the corner of her office building, she opened the cab door and gave Doug a peck on the cheek. “I’ll call you the minute I hear anything. I promise.”
“Are you going back to the hospital tonight?”
“Yes. And unless the doctor calls and there’s a reason to go earlier, I’ll get there around seven.”
The tap of the horn from the car behind them made Hannah realize that she was holding up the traffic. “I’ll talk to you later,” she said hurriedly as she stepped onto the sidewalk. The busy street, packed with pedestrians shoulder to shoulder and racks of clothes being ferried from one building to another, was a sight that Hannah usually loved, but today it offered no comfort to her. Though it was not raining, the raw, damp wind made her hurry into the building.
Luther, the security guard, was at the lobby desk. “How is your sister, Ms. Connelly?” he asked. After the media crush outside the hospital, Hannah had realized that the fire was breaking news andshe needed to be prepared to answer questions about it and about Kate.
“She was gravely injured,” she said quietly. “We can only pray that she will make it.” She felt as though she could read Luther’s mind. What was Kate doing in that place at that hour? Without giving him time to ask her anything else, Hannah moved quickly to the elevator. It was only when she got to her office and dealt with the surprised reactions of her fellow workers that she realized that no one had expected to see her today.
Farah Zulaikha, the company’s head designer, tried to send her home. “We’re putting off the announcement for a better time, Hannah,” she said. “There’s going to be a lot of publicity about the fire for at least a few days. Some people who live near the East River told me they could see the flames from their windows.”
Hannah insisted on staying. She told her that it was better to be here than just sitting in the hospital or at her apartment. But once she was in her small and cluttered office with the door shut, she sat at her desk and buried her face in her hands. I don’t know what to do, she thought. I don’t know where to turn. If Kate doesn’t make it, or if she lives but is brain damaged, she won’t be able to defend herself if they try to say she was responsible for setting off the explosion.
How many times in the last year or so had Kate openly said that the plant should be closed and the property sold? All our friends knew it, Hannah thought. Kate and I each own 10 percent of the assets, but every quarter for two years we’ve been running at a loss. Thank God we had enough in dividends to buy our apartments when we did.
Did Kate use the words “blow it up” to
Similar Books
Death in Venice and Other Stories
Thomas Mann
Line of Fire
Franklin W. Dixon
The Heather Blazing
Colm Tóibín
Wholehearted
Cate Ashwood
A Baron in Her Bed
Maggi Andersen
With a Twist
Heather Peters
Stamping Ground
Loren D. Estleman
Unraveled by Her
Wendy Leigh