Happy Birthday: A Novel

“Just call if you need pancakes,” she reminded him. “In emergencies, we deliver.” She told him they had just sent food to Jack Adams from her mother. “Apparently he helped her on the way out. That’s when he got shot.”

“I gather he got hit pretty badly,” Mike commented. It seemed incredible to both of them that Valerie had escaped without getting injured. She had been severely traumatized certainly, and the news reports said the hostages had been warned that they might suffer from post-traumatic stress for a long time, but at least physically, she was fine. “I’m glad your mom is okay,” Mike reiterated, and then said he had to go back to work, before he missed his deadline. He said he’d call her sometime soon, and she had no idea if he would. At least it felt as though they were friends now. That was something at least, given the situation. It was hard to believe they had ever been lovers, even for a night.

It felt good to get back to the restaurant, and be involved in her familiar world again. The day before had had such a nightmarish quality to it that it was hard to believe it had really happened. Everyone asked about her mother, and April confirmed that the food had been sent to Jack Adams at the hospital. The waiter who had taken it to him said he had been thrilled, and still looked pretty rocky. He had been getting a transfusion, but told the waiter that April’s meat loaf and mashed potatoes were worth ten of them, and laughed. He had been surrounded by doctors and nurses, and a news team had been there, but they had let her waiter in anyway. And she knew her mother would be glad.

“We can send him some more tomorrow,” April told her kitchen staff, and then got back to work, organizing her kitchen. They were low on produce, and she had to go to the fish market in the morning. And she had Yule logs to make in a few days for Christmas, and plum pudding. It was going to be a busy week for her. She forgot all about Mike, the baby, and even the hostage crisis of the day before as she raced around the kitchen, checking everything at full speed. She was in good spirits and happy to be back. She called her mother late that afternoon to check on her, and she didn’t answer. April wasn’t worried, she assumed her mother was sleeping. It was good for her, and then she got busy cooking dinner for the restaurant. April in New York was in full swing.* * *

Valerie was feeling shaky when she dressed in jeans, a sweater, and a big down coat and left the house that same afternoon in a cab. She had planned to stay home and take it easy, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wanted to thank Jack Adams personally for what he’d done. She wasn’t exactly sure when he’d been shot, but she remembered him shielding her from the sniper to get her to the front door and out of the building. She still looked pale when she got out of the cab at New York–Presbyterian Hospital, and she had worn very little makeup, which was rare for her, but she looked pretty anyway.

Alan Starr, the psychic, had called her that afternoon, and apologized for not seeing the terrorist attack in her cards. He said that sometimes that happened, but like everyone else, he was grateful she had survived.

Jack was in a suite on the private VIP floor of the hospital, and just to be on the safe side, there were police guards outside his room. There had been no threats against him, but the police chief wanted to do everything he could for him, and had come himself to visit that morning. Jack had signed autographs for the chief’s kids and grandchildren, and thanked him for saving his life the night before when his artery was hit.

He was resting and there was no one in his room when Valerie knocked. One of the cops at the door had recognized her immediately. He said his wife was addicted to her show and had all her books, but he didn’t dare ask her for an autograph. He knew she had been a hostage the day before. She still looked pretty shaken.

“Hi,” she said cautiously, as she peeked around the door. Jack was watching TV and looked half asleep. They had given him a shot for pain not long before, but he was awake enough to recognize her. He smiled as soon as he saw her face. “Can I come in, or is this a bad time?”

“No, it’s a fine time. Thanks for the food,” he said, struggling to sit up a little, and she told him not to, to just stay where he was. She promised not to stay long. “I didn’t realize April was your daughter. It’s my favorite place to eat,” he said, and meant it.

“Mine too. How do you feel?”

“Not so bad. I hurt my back two months ago, and that was worse. I just feel a little woozy from the drugs. The leg isn’t so bad.” And the painkillers were strong. “How about you?”