“Well, I need to go to him.” I stand up, grateful for an excuse to get out of this place. Rosemary went with her son to the hospital, I’m sure demanding the best heart specialists and the best room for her baby. She really makes me sick. I wonder what her weakness is besides her son. Will his death be enough to ruin her, too? We’ll see.

I didn’t know until recently that David suffered from the same heart problems as David Sr., although who couldn’t have guessed that? David’s young at forty-four, but still, almost thirty thousand people in the US will die suddenly this year of circulatory system diseases. He’s been through so much stress and done so many bad things, am I right? I mean, he destroyed our home, our perfect family.

“Sit down, please, Mrs. Harris. Your husband is stable. They have him under observation. Probably just anxiety. Again, sit down, Mrs. Harris,” Branson commands.

I don’t like his tone. But I sit.

The door opens and a bedraggled-looking David Sr. shuffles in. Branson pulls out a chair across from me. We stare at each other in silence.

“I’ll be back shortly. Betsy’s attorney is with her now.” Branson is gone.

How long will we be forced to sit in this ugly conference room, my father-in-law and me, waiting for an update from our attorney? I imagine Bo has come and gone, advised to find a lawyer and not to leave town. So much for their romantic escape.

I wish I had the chance to change into something a bit more comfortable before I came down to the station but I didn’t give it any thought. I was too excited about today’s events unfolding to shove a change of clothes in my bag. I won’t be here long. I mean, a sexy dress can only be attractive for a few hours. After it has served its purpose, the dress should be slowly slipped off your shoulders and dropped to the floor by a handsome stranger with silver hair as you sip champagne in an oceanfront mansion at sunset. And if that doesn’t happen, it becomes completely uncomfortable.

I drum my fingernails on the cheap metal table, hoping to get my father-in-law’s attention, or at least bother him a little. He’s motionless, eyes down. A lump of despair.

Branson’s back. “Mrs. Harris, can we speak with you?” He looks exhausted, too. He’s not even squeezed into a tight dress.

“Of course.” I stand and David Sr. looks at the ground.

“Sir, can I have a squad car drive you to the hospital to go see your son? There’s nothing you can do for Betsy right now. Her attorney is here. She will be fine.” Branson is so nice.

David Sr. has tears in his eyes. “Yes. Okay. But if Betsy needs anything, you’ll call me?”