The Hero's Sweetheart. Cheryl Wyatt
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tended to be too trusting. Jack had never abused his hard-won authority but Miss Abbott, her initial stubbornness, spike-tipped tongue and his twenty total minutes of sleep in three days were driving him to the edge of reason. But hopefully this power struggle between them was a temporary glitch caused by stress and mutual concern for Sully, and would resolve when he stabilized.
A mobile phone chirped from the windowsill. Jack rushed to silence it since his dad was sleeping soundly rather than fitfully now. Upon further inspection, Jack realized this was his dad’s new phone. The caller ID said Eagle Point Bank. Jack stepped outside and called them back, introducing himself as Sully’s son, explaining that Dad was in intensive care and that Jack had power of attorney.
What he heard next made Jack want to hurl what little food he’d had.
“You’re sure about this?” Jack asked the bank officer who’d just explained how deep in debt the diner was, and how many foreclosure warnings the bank had already sent to Sully.
“I’m sorry, Jack. We’re sure. I may be able to get an extension before foreclosure proceedings begin, considering Sully’s precarious health. But I can’t guarantee it. Especially in light of how much grace has already been extended, and how many subsequent notifications and then demand letters our loan default officer has sent over the past year.”
“I understand. Just, yeah, see what you can do. Any kind of extension will help. I’ll go over the books and figure out what happened.”
Last he’d known, Dad had a cushion financially. What happened? How long had the diner been facing money trouble? Dad had probably kept his financial woes hidden from Jack, not wanting to worry him while he was off at war. His jaw clenched.
“I’ll do everything I can,” the bank contact stated. “Sully’s Diner is a city icon. We’d hate to see it disappear.”
Jack would hate it, too—Sully’s Diner had been in the family for three generations. “I appreciate the additional grace. Thanks.” He hung up and clamped a hand on the nape of his neck. He needed to stay with Dad but also needed to go to the diner and start scouring the books.
“Major General Sullenberger?”
Jack turned. A doctor who looked about Jack’s age—early thirties—approached with a smile and extended a hand. “I’m Dr. McLaren. I was here when your dad was brought here to EPTC. His last listed family doctor retired. I’m seeing him as a courtesy while he recovers. At least until we can transfer him to the stroke rehab wing at Refuge Memorial, one town over.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m thankful a trauma center was recently built here. Otherwise...” Jack didn’t need to finish. The sober look on the doctor’s face completed his thoughts. Had the trauma center not been close and Dad’s employees not gotten him help when they did, Sully may not be here. “I’m ashamed to admit I wasn’t aware of his doctor retiring, and I’m not sure why he never got a new doctor. Maybe if I’d known, this could have been prevented.” Guilt riddled Jack.
“It’s hard to say.” The doctor wrote something down on a pad and handed the page to Jack. “Here are some local doctors. One’s a military veteran, like your dad. He’ll need to have a primary care physician to follow up with as he progresses through all the poststroke therapy.”
Jack studied the list of four names and numbers. “I’ll make some calls and also see to it that he takes better care of himself.” As he said it, he knew that would be difficult if he returned overseas.
Jack had some hard decisions ahead.
“You look beat. You should go home for the night and sleep. We’ll call if anything changes. Right now, he’s stable and needs rest and quiet more than anything. As do you.”
Jack peered down the hall toward his dad’s door. He didn’t want to leave but knew the doctor was probably right on all counts. He nodded in resignation. “Okay.”
“Meanwhile, we have an Olivia Abbott listed as your dad’s emergency contact. Is that correct?”
What? Why Olivia? For sure, Jack needed to figure out why this Abbott woman was so entrenched in his dad’s life and business. “If you’d please change that to me, I’d appreciate it. I’m also his medical and legal power of attorney.” Jack gave the doctor his contact information. “I’ll be staying at his apartment above the diner.”
“Got it.” An overhead page called the doctor to another area of Eagle Point Trauma Center—EPTC. He gave Jack’s information to the nursing staff and jogged toward the stairs.
Jack returned to his dad’s hospital room to spend a few more moments with him before heading out. As he sat there, Jack wrestled with scenarios and hard questions, and a particular pixie face floated into his weary, wary mind.
Olivia Abbott, her soft voice at such odds with her edgy look, her tender affection toward his dad equally at odds with her ink-and stud-abraded skin. She was totally not his usual type.
And maybe that was exactly why he struggled to take his thoughts off her. But at this point, it was too early to tell whether he owed her an apology or a closer look in terms of her background and her motives. The doctor was obviously right. He needed rest. Sleep would rid him of the jumble of unexpected thoughts, fears, feelings, accusations and attraction ricocheting around his tired mind. Right now, his guardedness trumped anything else he might be feeling for Olivia Abbott. And he aimed to keep it that way.
“So much for first impressions.”
Three days after Jack’s arrival, Olivia spread a vinyl tablecloth over the pinewood breakfast nook of the apartment she shared with Patrice. It was one of two units situated above the diner. The fact that work was literally downstairs was a huge blessing of convenience to Olivia—it made it easier for her to put in as many diner hours as she could between studying and classes and her intern shift at EPTC. Especially in light of the learning disability she kept hidden from others.
“Jack’s all bark and no bite. Don’t worry.”
“I don’t know, Patrice. He seems to get angrier by the day. He was in Perry’s face again this morning.”
Granted, she felt that was warranted, because Perry had cursed so loudly at the sinks, customers heard his rant in the dining room. She guessed Jack was also justified in telling Perry to text on his own time. However, threatening to run Perry’s phone through the dishwasher seemed a little extreme. Of course, that was after he’d already asked him multiple times to put his phone away and get to work unless on break.
“I realize he’s undoubtedly worried about his dad,” Olivia said. But there was more she wasn’t telling Patrice. Jack was fretting over the diner, too. Quite by accident, she’d caught bits of conversations he’d had with bankers and loan officers. She’d eventually moved the condiment filling station away from the office to keep from overhearing what should be a private business matter.
She wondered how much Sully knew of it. She’d appreciated Jack asking the bank people not to tell Sully how bad things were yet, so soon after his stroke. That the Sullenbergers were a well-respected family undoubtedly helped.
Patrice pulled out a small paintbrush. “He’s not himself, that’s for sure.”
“Sully or Jack?” Olivia teased, hoping to lift the melancholy cloud from Patrice’s eyes.
Patrice smiled. “Both.” She set a craft caddy on the tablecloth and grew serious. “It’s been so hard working in the diner without Sully there. Memories of him are everywhere.”
“True.” Emotions were high and Jack had been one to avoid. It was a little tough since he was staying across the hall in Sully’s apartment. Not that he was there much. He’d either been at the hospital or downstairs at the diner holed up in Sully’s office going over financial records. This afternoon, he’d emerged like a loaded tank looking for targets.