9
Harvey sat in the Workers Tavern with his arm in a sling.
“No swimming for a month. How am I supposed to stay in shape with one damned arm?”
“How is it that you’re still alive to grouse about it?” Hammond chided him but still sounded relieved.
Sylvester joined in the game, “Couldn’t they have kept you in the hospital longer so that we could eat in peace?”
Vivian just looked sad. He’d told her a dozen times that he’d torn up his shoulder trying to heave the captain into the basket, because she already felt too guilty about having to leave him behind. She didn’t need to know that getting clobbered by the basket had started the problem, then bodily lifting first the captain and then his wife—who her husband had left for dead—had made it so much worse.
Harvey definitely hadn’t told Viv
