Accident by Danielle Steel Page B

room. He had called the president of the company they were dealing with in Cleveland, and he did have an appointment with Brad the next day. But according to him, they had never made plans to play golf, or meet on Sunday morning.
    “That's odd. Brad said …never mind, I probably misunderstood. I'll just have to wait till he calls,” she said tiredly. She was too exhausted to worry about why he had said he was playing golf with the man when he wasn't. She figured it had probably gotten canceled, and Dan had misunderstood. At least they had tried, so he'd hear eventually. And maybe by then the news would be a little better.
    “They couldn't locate him,” she said to Trygve as she came back and sat down next to him in an uncomfortable chair. His beard had grown overnight, though it was pale, and he looked as tired and worn-out as she did. “He'll call eventually, and Jane will tell him to call here. Poor guy. It makes me sick to think of telling him.”
    “I know. I called Dana in London while you were on the phone. She just got back from a weekend in Venice. She was horrified, and blamed me, as usual. It was all my fault, why did I let her out of the house, why didn't I know who she was going with, what was wrong with me not to suspect she was up to no good. Maybe she's right. I was awfully dumb, but once in a while you have to trust them, or they drive you nuts. You can't play cop constantly, and to tell you the truth, most of the time she's pretty good. Just now and then, she does something foolish.”
    “Allie's like that too. It's pretty rare for her to go off the deep end. I guess they were just trying their wings. Normal stuff, I guess …except for some very rotten luck in this instance.”
    “Yeah, really …anyway, Dana says it's all my fault.”
    “Do you believe that?” Page asked quietly.
    “Not really. But a part of you always wonders. She could be right, you know. Though I don't like to think so.”
    “She's not right, and you know it. This isn't your fault. It's a miserable twist of fate, but it's no one's fault, except maybe the other driver's.” They both wanted to feel it was Laura Hutchin-son's fault, and not Phillip Chapman's. At least if the accident had been a terrible stroke of fate, and not Phillip's fault, it might be easier to bear. Or maybe it wouldn't make any difference.
    And before they could discuss it anymore, the orthopedic surgeon came to tell him that Chloe's operation had gone well. She had lost a lot of blood, and she would be uncomfortable for quite a while, but they felt optimistic that she would regain the use of her legs. The pelvis was in place, the hip had been replaced, and she had steel rods and pins in both legs which would be removed in a year or two. There would be no more ballet, but with any luck at all, there would be walking and even dancing …and maybe even one day, children. A lot would depend on how the next few weeks went, but the surgeon was very pleased with his repairs and how Chloe had come through it. Trygve cried as he listened.
    She was still in the recovery room, and the doctor wanted her to stay there until at least noon. And then they would move her into intensive care for a week or so, and eventually to her own room. He said he might like to give her a couple of transfusions later in the day, and asked if he or either of his sons were the same blood type. And he was pleased to hear they all were.
    “Why don't you go home and rest for a few hours. She's all right now. And then you can come back this afternoon, when we move her to ICU. It's going to be a long haul, you know. She's going to be in the hospital for at least a month, or more. There's no point wearing yourself out in the first few innings.” Trygve smiled at the image, and a quick nap held a lot of appeal, but he hated to leave Page, with Allyson still in surgery, and no one to keep her company. In the end, he decided to stay, and stretched out on a couch in the waiting room. She would