“In surgery.”
Patricia placed one hand over her chest.
“Oh, dear God.”
The words were correct.
The feeling was absent.
She looked at Caleb. “Why didn’t anyone call me sooner?”
Ryan said, “Because you are not her next of kin.”
Patricia turned slowly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.”
Caleb stepped between them. “Mother, don’t engage.”
That was another mistake.
Because Patricia Whitmore did not like being managed by anyone, including the son she had raised to manage everybody else.
Her eyes sharpened.
“What have you done?” she asked him.
Caleb’s jaw flexed.
“Nothing.”
Ryan watched them.
There.
A crack between them.
Small, but useful.
Patricia turned back to Ryan with a soft smile.
“I understand emotions are high. We all love Hannah. But Caleb is her husband, and this kind of aggression does not help anyone.”
Ryan said nothing.
Patricia continued.
“Hannah has been under a great deal of stress. Pregnancy can make women imagine things. Fear things. Say things they don’t mean.”
Nora lifted her chin.
“Mrs. Whitmore, I recommend you stop speaking.”
Patricia smiled at her.
“And you are?”
“Counsel.”
“For whom?”
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