Therefore, on Wednesday, the actual Fourth of July that year, exactly thirty-five days after Mitchell Sales went into intensive care with a massive stroke, he came home. His return was mandated by his diligent lawyer and the vicissitudes of managed care. Many people live their whole lives without having a single wish come true. In less than two months Cassandra Sales had had three wishes come true. First, she became beautiful, noticeable, and desirable again after a sleep as long as Snow White's. Second, her boring life would never be the same. And third, her husband was alive, so his girlfriend could not collect his life insurance. None of it helped her one bit. The only bright spot in the whole story was that Cassie vowed never to pay another of his life insurance premiums again. If he lived only a few months, the policy would lapse. The few hundred thousand of cash surrender values would revert to Mitch's estate. Mona would be left out in the cold. This was the kind of thing Cassie had sunk to wishing for now. She did not have a clue how much the company with her name on it was worth. Not a clue.
IT WAS A VERY DRAMATIC MOMENT when Mitch Sales left North Fork Hospital, for he didn't walk out. Neither was he driven the five miles home in his black Mercedes. His brand-new wheelchair did travel in the trunk of the luxury car, but he himself returned home the way he'd come, in an ambulance.
His condition was exactly the same as it had been when he was on the respirator, except that now all his vital organs were functioning well on their own. He still could not talk. He could not move. It was impossible to know if he understood anything that was said to him, or what was going on around him. He did not react to music, to needle pricks, or to any other physical stimulation. He didn't respond to simple commands or expressions of affection. He could sit up, but only when carefully propped. He could receive food in his mouth and swallow, but only baby food. There was a slight tremor in one of his hands, but he could not use it for holding anything, or for writing. He was wearing adult diapers. His mouth was open, and he drooled.
The day before his return, Cassie, Teddy, and Marsha moved the filing cabinets, the desk, the desk chair, and computer out of his office on the first floor and into the dining room. Marsha vacuumed away all the office dust that had been accumulating since the dawn of time, and Cassie washed the moldings and floor. Her housekeeper had still not returned from Peru. Late Wednesday afternoon, a rented hospital bed, a stool for the shower, and a bunch of other hospital equipment, including sheets and pads, an oxygen tank, blood pressure monitor, and diapers, were delivered and moved in.
"It's only for a few days," Cassie told herself, stunned and unbelieving.
Each breath she took was like inhaling fire. After all this, Mitch was coming home an invalid consigned to her care. And Teddy's girlfriend, Lorraine Forchette, who was about as French as a flapjack, was coming home with him. At Teddy's urging she'd decided to devote a week of her vacation time to caring for his daddy.
They all arrived at the house at the same time. Cassie and Marsha in the Mercedes. Teddy in the Porsche, which he'd used to collect Lorraine in Rockville Centre, where she lived. Marsha was annoyed that Teddy was showing off with the purloined car, but held her tongue on the matter. Cassie was annoyed by the way Teddy had manipulated Lorraine into their house, but she was holding her tongue, too. They sat in the Mercedes for a moment, watching Teddy help Lorraine out of the car. Then he went back to wrestle her mammoth suitcase out of the trunk.
"Oh my God," Marsha murmured. "Someone needs to talk to her about that."
Lorraine's hair was too orange and too curly. Her hips and bosom and thighs were way too ample for the outfit of pink shorts and halter she was wearing. Not only that, she had on high, wedged sandals with straps wrapped Roman style around her thick ankles and calves. Her toenails were painted orange to match her hair. Her resemblance to a young and chubby Mona was unmistakable.
"I just love your house" was the first thing she called out, oblivious to the sudden presence of neighbors and the ambulance pulling into the driveway. Then, more imperiously, "Teddy, take my luggage inside. I want to get Daddy settled."
Marsha and Cassie exchanged startled glances. Daddy?
"Hi, guys," Lorraine chirped when the ambulance driver emerged and trotted around to open the back doors where, inside, the attendant was caring for the patient.
"How are we doing in there?" she chirped some more.
Cassie didn't hear the exchange that followed. She held her daughter's hand while the two ambulance people took their time moving Mitch out. Teddy came over to the Mercedes to get the wheelchair.
"I'm going to push him. Where do you think he'll want to sit?" Teddy's mood was very up.
"Teddy, he's too sick for that." Cassie jumped out of the car. Mitch wasn't joining the family.
"Oh, come on. Pop the trunk, Mom. I want to push him."
She couldn't believe they were having this discussion. The man had just come out of intensive care. She wasn't going to have him drooling in the living room. She popped the trunk.
"We're going to put Daddy to bed, Teddy."
"Oh, do we have to?" Teddy pulled the wheelchair out, then struggled, trying to figure out how to get it open. "Ah, got it."
"Yes, we have to. He can't visit," Cassie insisted.
"But he needs stimulation, Mom."
"Fine, turn on the TV."
"There's no TV in that room. Hey, this is neat." Teddy experimented with the wheelchair, rolling it this way and that, not so easily on the gravel. "I'm sure Daddy will like this."
"Daddy's a vegetable," Marsha chimed in, taking her mother's side for once.
"No, he's not. He winked at me yesterday."
"Teddy, he's a carrot."
Cassie put her hand to her splitting headache. Her kids were regressing again.
"Look, Mom, I'm an XKE." Teddy tipped the chair all the way back, making the rmmmm, rmmm sound of a sports car engine.
Just then Carol Carnahan appeared on the lawn with a casserole.
"Stop it, Teddy," Cassie hissed. She waved at Carol.
Carol hurried over and bestowed a careful kiss on Cassie's cheek. "The girls are organizing casseroles for you, honey. For the next ten days, at least. Then we'll see how it goes. After all you've put up with over the years, you deserve it."
"What?" Cassie's cheeks burned.
"Tonight's tuna noodle. I made it myself, with fresh tuna instead of canned. How's he doing?"
Cassie shook her head. "Carol, that's so nice of you."
"Hi, Daddy," Lorraine burbled loudly as the gurney with Mitch strapped on it was lifted out of the ambulance. "Remember me? I'm Lorraine."