Year One Read Free Page B

and to handle pushing the baggage cart out to where the driver from their car service waited.
    â€œGood to see you! Let me take that, Mr. Mac.”
    â€œThanks, Amid.”
    â€œHow was your trip?”
    â€œIt was wonderful,” Angie said as they wove through the crowds at Kennedy. “But Ross isn’t feeling very well. He picked up a bug along the way.”
    â€œI’m sorry to hear that. We’ll get you home, quick as we can.”
    For Ross the trip home passed in the blur of fatigue: through the airport to the car, loading the luggage, the airport traffic, the drive to Brooklyn and the pretty house where they’d raised two children.
    Once again he let Angie handle the details, appreciating her arm around his waist as she took some of his weight while guiding him upstairs.
    â€œStraight to bed with you.”
    â€œI’m not going to argue, but I want a shower first. I feel … I need a shower.”
    She helped him undress, which struck him with a wave of tenderness. He leaned his head against her breast. “What would I do without you?”
    â€œJust try to find out.”
    The shower felt like heaven, made him believe absolutely he’d gotten through the worst. When he came out and saw she’d turned down the bed and set a bottle of water, a glass of ginger ale, and his phone all on the bedside table, his eyes actually stung with tears of gratitude.
    She hit the remote to lower the shades on the windows. “Drink some of that water, or the ginger ale, so you don’t get dehydrated. And if you’re not better in the morning, it’s to the doctor with you, mister.”
    â€œAlready better,” he claimed, but obeyed, downing some ginger ale before sliding blissfully into bed.
    She tucked and fussed, laid a hand on his brow. “You’re definitely running a fever. I’m going to get the thermometer.”
    â€œLater,” he said. “Give me a couple hours down first.”
    â€œI’ll be right downstairs.”
    He closed his eyes, sighed. “Just need a little sleep in my own bed.”
    She went downstairs, got some chicken, along with a carcass she’d bagged, out of the freezer, and began the task of running it under cool water to speed up the defrosting. She’d make a big pot of chicken soup, her cure for everything. She could use some herself, as she was dog-tired and had already sneaked a couple of meds behind Ross’s back for her own sore throat.
    No need to worry him when he was feeling so low. Besides, she’d always had a tougher constitution than Ross, and would probably kick it before it took serious hold.
    While she worked she put her phone on speaker and called her daughter, Katie. They chatted happily while Angie ran the cold water and made herself some tea.
    â€œIs Dad around? I want to say hi.”
    â€œHe’s sleeping. He came down with something on New Year’s.”
    â€œOh no!”
    â€œDon’t worry. I’m making chicken soup. He’ll be fine by Saturday when we come to dinner. We can’t wait to see you and Tony. Oh, Katie, I got the most adorable little outfits for the babies! Okay, a few adorable little outfits. Wait until you see. But I’ve got to go.” Talking was playing hell with her sore throat. “We’ll see you in a couple days. Now don’t come by here, Katie, and I mean it. Your dad’s probably contagious.”
    â€œTell him I hope he feels better, and to call me when he wakes up.”
    â€œI will. Love you, sweetie.”
    â€œLove you back.”
    Angie switched on the kitchen TV for company, decided a glass of wine might do her more good than the tea. Into the pot with the chicken, the carcass, then a quick run upstairs to look in on her husband. Reassured, since he was snoring lightly, she went back down to peel potatoes and carrots, chop celery.
    She concentrated on the task, let the bright chatter of the TV wash over