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A WEEK LATER as Dahlia entered Camille’s office suite, her grandmother’s assistant, Sue McGregory, greeted her. “How is Camille doing? We’ve all been so worried about her.”
Dahlia had hardly left her grandmother’s side, silently urging her on as she slept, and keeping her spirits up when she was awake. “Her doctor says she’s fairly stable now, which is why she insisted I come into the office.” The sound of Dahlia’s high heels were muffled on the fine Persian rugs Camille favored. She touched her fingertips to the gleaming cherry wood surface of Sue’s desk. “She’s regained her speech and most of the use of her right side, although she will need physical therapy. Her gait was impacted.”
Dahlia was grateful that Sue had managed Camille’s business affairs for the past week. “She’s made su
