Glamour (18 page)

I shoot him a warning glance—I do not want him telling Eliza that I was wearing an earpiece, especially since it didn’t even work.

“I just had to pick something up for my show tomorrow.” He glances at his watch. “In fact, I need to get over to the Ritz to check on some things.”

“Hey, that’s where I’m going too. Let’s share a cab.” Eliza links her arm in his with a big smile. “My treat.”

And just like that, they take off together. Mom doesn’t even blink as she goes over her notes for the day. I’m sure she thinks it’s no big deal, but I know Eliza well enough to feel a tinge of concern. Eliza has been after Dylan since the days she modeled for him in New York. And I can’t help but wonder how Paige would feel if she witnessed those two trotting off together. But then I remind myself that Paige and I see things differently, and she’s always telling me that I’m old-fashioned. So maybe she’d think I was making a mountain out of a molehill.

“Okay, kids,” Mom says to the crew and me. “Now it’s off to the Perry Ellis resort wear show. Everybody ready?”

And so goes the day, as we trek from one show to the next. In between shows, we keep checking the weather reports and the sky. This morning, it was so clear and blue that it was hard to imagine a hurricane lurking out there in the Atlantic. But as we move into the afternoon, the sky gets cloudy and has a weird greenish-yellow cast. Finally, at around four o’clock it starts to rain, hard.

Cars are lined up, waiting to pull under the protection of the hotel portico. We’re running late and need to get to the next show, so we get out and make a run for it, getting soaked as we hurry inside. Thankfully, this is our last show and it’s in our hotel. As we hurry through the lobby, it’s obvious that people are nervous about the impending storm.

By the time we come out of the fashion show, the hurricane is bearing down on us. Crowds of people are looking out the hotel lobby windows, watching as pieces of debris and anything not tied down goes shooting by. Palm trees whip and bend in the wind, and one of them actually breaks. Both JJ and Alistair have their cameras running.

“Come away from there,” Mom tells me. “It’s dangerous.”

The lobby is noisy and busy with people clustering about, as if unsure about what they should do. There seems to be a range of reactions and expressions—everything from party-mania to wide-eyed panic.

“We should go check on Paige and Fran,” Mom says.

I invite the crew to come up with us, but they want to stay downstairs. “It’s not every day you get to see a hurricane,” JJ explains. “And some of these shots will be great for the show.”

“I’ll be watching from my room,” I say. “You guys be careful.”

“I asked the concierge if there were any emergency procedures we should be aware of,” Mom tells me as we’re waiting for the elevator. “And he just said to stay inside and away from the windows.”

I laugh. “Right, I guess I won’t be sitting on the terrace then.”

“And, naturally, there’s no way to evacuate,” Mom says in a nervous tone. “Since we’re on an island.”

The elevator doors open and she just stands there.

“What?” I ask as I go in.

“I wonder if we should take the stairs.”

“Why?”

“What if the electricity goes out?”

“Oh.” I put my hand out to hold the door.

“Surely they have generators.” Mom steps in and I hurry to push the button.

“Surely.” I nervously watch as the floor numbers flash. “Are you scared?” I ask Mom.

She frowns. “Well, yes … aren’t you?”

“I guess I haven’t really had time to think about it.”

Mom puts an arm around my shoulders, squeezing me toward her. “You know, Erin, I need to tell you how proud I am of you. The way you kept it together today. The way you’re so responsible. How you’ve been helping Fran. Well, I know I don’t tell you enough, but I am really proud of you, sweetheart.”

I make an anxious laugh. “That sounds like the kind of thing someone says right before the ship sinks.”

“Well, I
mean
it.” Mom sighs with relief as the doors open on our floor and we both hurry out. “I’ll check on Paige while you check on Fran.”

When I go into Fran’s room, her eyes are closed. She is so still, I actually wonder if she’s breathing. But as I move closer to her bed, her eyes flutter open. “Erin,” she says in a hoarse voice.

“How are you doing?” I ask as I sit in the chair beside her.

She only sighs.

“The hurricane is coming.”

“Yes … I can hear it howling out there.”

“Do you want me to open the drapes so you can watch?”

She closes her eyes and I take the hint.

“How about some music?” I ask.

She doesn’t react, but I go to the TV and tune it to the channel with the soothing spa music. Then I check to see if she’s eaten anything from the lunch tray that I ordered from room service for her. It is untouched. Everything in me says she needs medical treatment. But with a hurricane blowing, I don’t see how that’s even possible.

I make some green tea and set it beside her, along with some crackers. And then, feeling helpless to do more, I go back to my room and change out of my still-damp dress and into some sweats. I look out my window to see that the storm is still raging. But from up here, it almost seems less threatening, which I’m sure is an illusion. Thanks to the hotel’s generators, I’m able to turn on the TV now, tuning it to the Weather Channel. I discover I’m too restless to sit and watch, so I head to Paige’s room.

“How is she?” I ask Mom when she opens the door.

“Better.”

“Good.”

“I got to thinking we should probably have gotten some provisions,” Mom says with a worried brow.

“Provisions?”

“You know—some food and bottled water … in case we’re stuck here for a while and the hotel runs out of things.”

“Seriously? How long can a hurricane last?”

“Usually a few hours, but some can last up to eight or more.”

“Really?”

“And it’s not even solidly here yet.”

“Do you want me to go forage some things from the shops downstairs?” I offer.

“It might be wise, Erin. That is, unless they’ve already sold out.”

“Why don’t you call room service and order us dinner?” I suggest. “That way we might miss the rush later.”

“Good idea.”

“And I’m going to do everything possible to book a flight for Fran,” I say suddenly. “As soon as it’s safe, I want her on a plane out of here. I don’t even care how much it costs.”

“That seems wise.”

As I’m walking through the lobby, I try the traditional airline numbers that I saved in my iPhone this morning, but I’m getting the same results as before. The food section of the shop is picked over, but I decide to just gather up what I can, placing an odd assortment of cheese crackers, peanuts, chocolates, and some fruit drinks on the counter.

“Preparing for the storm?” The cashier grins as he begins to ring up my selection.

“Trying to. Just in case, you know.”

“No worries. It will likely blow over before midnight.”

“Before midnight?” I study his dark eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah. They never last too long. Maybe even sooner.”

“Do you know how long it takes until the airlines start running again?”

“Hmm …” He’s bagging my stuff. “It depends.”

I frown as I hand him a credit card.

“You’re in a hurry to leave the island?”

“Yes.” Then, without even meaning to, I pour out my story about how Fran needs to get out of here and back to her doctor. “I may just book an air ambulance … but that’s so expensive.”

He nods with a furrowed brow. “Oh, yeah. Terribly costly.” His eyes brighten. “I have an uncle with a charter airline.” “Charter airline?”

“He island hops, but he sometimes flies to the mainland too. He flies a lot of the guests in this hotel.”

“Do you think he could get us to Miami?” I ask eagerly. “Tonight?”

“Maybe so.” He pulls out a pad of paper, writing down a name and phone number. “You call him. Tell him Bart told you about his business.”

my mom demands after I’ve spilled
my new idea for getting Fran off the island.

“I tentatively booked a charter flight out of here tonight,” I say again.

“What kind of charter?”

I repeat what Bart told me about his uncle. “He uses small, fast jets. And the good news is that, thanks to the storm, he’s not booked.”

“You
plan to take Fran on a small charter plane and fly through a hurricane to Miami
?”

“That’s not exactly how it’s supposed to go.” I explain how the charter service is tracking the weather and the path the hurricane is taking, and how they wouldn’t do anything risky. “Their planes are valuable, Mom. It’s not like they want to go up there and crash.”

“I don’t know, Erin.”

“What are you two talking about?” Paige emerges from her bedroom looking slightly better than she did this morning. I quickly replay my evacuation plan for Fran.

Paige frowns. “Are
you nuts
?”

I glance at Mom. “Did you tell Paige what’s really wrong with Fran?”

“You asked me not to mention it, Erin.”

So I quickly spill out Fran’s story, at least parts of it, and Paige is totally stunned. “No way,” she declares. “That makes absolutely no sense. Fran’s just had a bout of the flu. I heard it’s been going around.”

“Have you even
seen
Fran once since we arrived here?” I challenge her. “Do you know what you’re talking about?”

Her brow creases. “Now that you mention it, I guess I haven’t actually seen her since we got here. But she looked fine then. In fact, she looked pretty great.”

“You mean because she’d lost weight?” I shake my head. “Don’t you get that it’s because of her leukemia? She also lost her hair—because of the chemo treatments.” I realize I’ve probably said too much.

“The point is, Fran is very sick,” Mom concurs. “She needs to get home. But I’m not sure about this plan, Erin.”

“And what about this hurricane?” Paige looks worried now. “You can’t fly out in weather like this.”

I turn to Mom. “Please, explain it to her. I need to check with Fran and see if I can book a flight from Miami to LA tonight—otherwise it’s pointless to try to get to Miami.”

I head back to my room. And when I check on Fran, she’s still resting quietly. I hate to disturb her. “Fran?” I whisper.

She opens her eyes, but they have an empty look now, almost as if she’s given up.

“Here,” I say as I help her sit up, “drink some tea.” I hold the now-lukewarm cup to her lips and wait as she takes some
slow sips. “You need to get your strength up a little … so we can get you out of here and get you some medical attention.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital here,” she protests.

“I know. I mean Los Angeles. We’re taking you home, Fran.”

Her eyes brighten just a little. “Home?”

“Do you think you’ll be strong enough to fly? I booked us a flight that will leave as soon as Hurricane Bruce moves safely away.”

“Yes.” She nods and reaches for the cup of tea. “I’ll be strong enough.”

“Okay. For now, just keep resting. I want you to try to eat some of your fruit from lunch. And I’ll get you a yogurt from the fridge.”

I get her settled then return to my room to finalize our travel plans. But first I pray, asking God to make this work. It feels like it’s against all odds that we could get off the island as well as connect with a flight in Miami. I know I’m in over my head. It will take a miracle. But to my relief, the first airline I call, the one we usually use, has two first-class seats on a flight to LA. Unfortunately, that flight doesn’t leave until 6:10 tomorrow morning. Even so, I book it. Then I call back the charter service and explain.

“That’s probably better anyway,” he assures me. “The hurricane will be well on its way by then. We’ll plan to fly out of here around three in the morning, which will put us at the airport by four. That should give you enough time to check in and make your next flight. We’ll call ahead for assistance. Someone can meet you at our terminal and get you to your next connection.”

“Okay,” I say firmly. “Book it.” Then he gives me some directions, which I write down. Next, I call JJ, who’s still in the
lobby with the crew, and explain that Fran and I need a ride to the airport tonight.

“The airport? You can’t fly out of here tonight.”

Once again, I explain everything. And this time I tell him the truth about Fran. “Her condition has really deteriorated … she needs to get home to her doctor.”

“I didn’t know. Of course I’ll drive you guys. No problem.”

“The storm is supposed to have passed by then.”

“We heard it’s supposed to be on the way out by midnight.”

Now I remember the crew is staying at another hotel. “You guys can use my room, if you want to weather out the storm tonight. Or maybe Paige’s room, since it’s bigger. She and Mom can bunk together.”

“I’ll tell the others.”

Next I call Fran’s doctor. I tell her exactly what’s going on, and she sounds astounded. “Fran is in the Bahamas?” she says for the third time.

“Yes. And she’s really not well.” I go into some more details.

“I’m not surprised she’s failing. She was insane to make that trip. I told her explicitly that it would be too much. I can’t believe she didn’t listen.”

“She was just being optimistic,” I say defensively. “She wanted to believe she was getting better.”

“But it was too soon. She should’ve known — ”

“The thing is she needs your help, Dr. Marshall. I’m trying to get her back to LA as soon as possible. We’re flying out late tonight—after the hurricane passes,” I say quickly before she can question that too. I glance at my notes. “We should make LA around eight in the morning. I think she’ll need to see you immediately.”

“I want you to get her to Cedars-Sinai Hospital. I’ll call over there and get it set up.” She pauses. “Are you sure she’s healthy enough to make the flight?”

I honestly don’t know the answer to this, but for Fran’s sake, I say yes.

Hurricane Bruce is pounding down full force on the island by seven o’clock. JJ and the rest of the crew take occupancy in the suite, while Mom and Paige move into my room and I move in with Fran.