“Let’s hope so.” She traded insults with him for another hour before Christina returned, and Sam left them to return to the surgical waiting room, hoping for an update on her dad.

“Nothing yet,” Celia said when Sam walked in.

Sam’s stepmother was rigid with worry that made Sam even more nervous than she already was. Celia was a nurse, so if she was worried, the rest of them ought to be too. Right?

“Let’s get some air,” she said to Angela and Tracy. To Celia, Sam said, “We’ll be back in a few.”

“I’ll be here.”

The sisters took the elevator to the lobby and walked into the frigid late November chill.

“This is unbearable,” Angela said for all of them.

“I need a smoke,” Tracy said. “Anyone got one?”

Angela and Sam shook their heads.

“Why did we ever give up smoking?” Tracy asked. “Whose big idea was that?”

“Um, I think it was the surgeon general’s,” Angela replied.

“Well, it was a stupid idea.”

“Extremely stupid,” Sam said. She’d quit smoking years ago, and other than an occasional shared puff with her sisters, hadn’t had one since and didn’t miss it. Most of the time. Right now she had to agree with Tracy—a cigarette would be most welcome.

“He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” Angela asked.

“I don’t know,” Tracy said. “I just don’t know.”

“I’m so glad we had such a nice Thanksgiving with him,” Sam said. “No matter what happens today, he went in there knowing how much everyone loves him.” Throughout the entire day at her house, members of the MPD—past and present—had stopped by to say hello to Skip and wish him well with the surgery.

“I just wish it hadn’t felt like a wake,” Angela said.

“It was not a wake,” Sam snapped at her sister and then instantly regretted it. “It wasn’t a wake, Ang. It was a bunch of friends stopping by to say good luck. That’s all.”

“Sorry,” Angela said softly. “I’m just really stressed out, and I know you guys are too.”

Tracy hugged Angela and then reached for Sam.

“It’s going to be okay,” Sam said. “It has to be.” The alternative was something she wasn’t ready to confront and probably never would be.

* * *

The day crept by slowly, so slowly Sam wondered if the clock was actually working backward.

Nick came straight from work to check on them, bringing four tall coffees that Sam, her sisters and stepmother accepted happily, grateful to have something to do for five minutes besides worry about what was taking so long.

They’d been told to expect the surgery to last about five hours and had been given an update after two hours. Now in hour seven, their nerves were beginning to shred.