We heard her before we saw her.
“I don’t care what he said! I’m her daughter! I have power of attorney! You don’t get to cancel my mother’s transfer without talking to me!”
Dr. Hale took a deep breath. He looked at Grandma. He looked at me.
“Stay here,” he said.
He went out into the hallway. Grandma stood up and went right after him. So I did too.
A woman was standing at the nurses’ station with her hands planted on the counter. She was about forty-five, tall, with short dark hair and an expensive tan raincoat. She had the kind of face that had been tired for a long time. Her eyes were red.
She turned when she heard us coming.
“Dr. Hale,” she said. “What is going on? My mother has a bed waiting at the best hospice in Chicago. There’s an ambulance downstairs. The paperwork is done. Why on earth would you stop it?”
