“I know, I know, it sounds corny,” Yuki said, hands in constant motion as she talked, “but a floating hotel with a casino and a spa is just what the doctor ordered. And frankly, I need the time off, too.”

“Gee, I’m jealous,” I said, putting down my spoon and beaming into Yuki’s face.

I meant every word.

I imagined myself on a ship at sea. A pile of good books, a comfy deck chair, and the gentle roll of the waves putting me to sleep at night. Plus Joe, of course.

No meetings. No unsolved homicides. No stress.

“Lucky you,” I said. “And your lucky mom.”

Chapter 31

YUKI WAS ON HER WAY HOME from Lindsay’s, on Eighteenth Street just merging into I-280, when her cell phone’s fluting melody sang out from the depths of her handbag, which was now lying in the passenger-side footwell.

“Shoot. Wouldn’t you know it.”

She set an angled course toward the right lane of the highway, and while holding the wheel with her left hand, she fished below eye level for her handbag.

A large bronze SUV honked at her as she threw magazines, her makeup kit, and her wallet out of the voluminous bag onto the floor.

“Sorry, sorry,” she muttered; then she palmed her phone on the third ring.

“Mom?” she said.

“Ms. Castellano?”

Yuki didn’t recognize the man’s voice. She held the steering wheel with her elbow, buzzed up the windows, and turned off the radio so that she could hear a little better.

“Yes, this is Yuki.”

“It’s Andrew Pierce.”

Yuki’s mind scrambled as she fitted the two names together. It was Dr. Pierce. Her stomach lurched. Dr. Pierce had never called her before. Why was he calling now?

“Dr. Pierce. What’s wrong?”

His voice was tinny on the cell phone, overwhelmed by the roar of the traffic surrounding her. Yuki pressed the phone even tighter to her ear.

“Your mom’s in some trouble, Yuki. I’m on my way to the hospital now.”

“What do you mean? What happened to her? You said that she was okay!”

Yuki’s eyes were fixed on the road ahead, but she saw nothing.

“She’s had a stroke,” Dr. Pierce told her.

“A stroke? I don’t understand, Doctor.”

“She’s hanging in,” Dr. Pierce went on. “Can you meet me at the hospital?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’m less than ten minutes away.”

“Good. Your mother’s in the ICU on three. She’s a fighter, which is good news.”

Yuki tossed the phone onto the seat beside her. Images and words cascaded inside her head.

A stroke?

Her mother had been eating ice cream four hours ago. She’d been chatty. Funny. Perfectly fine!

Yuki forced her focus back to the road, realizing too late that she’d passed her exit. “Damn it!”

Frantically, desperately, she sped down I-280 to where it ended at Berry Street, then gunned through a yellow light as she took a sharp turn onto Third.

With her heart pounding, Yuki pointed her little Acura north toward Market Street. This was a slower route, more cars, more lights, more pedestrians crossing against them, but it was her only alternative now.