“Right,” Eric said with a yawn. “On my feet.”
She went over the discharge directions with him, but Laura doubted he was going to remember any of it. He remained quite groggy. As for the panic, however, he was miles away from that.
“All right, Mrs. Kingsley,” Barbara said. “Get him home and tuck him into bed for the night. And good luck on your tour.”
“Will do,” Laura said. “And thank you for helping him.”
“It’s what I do,” Barbara said. “God bless.”
Laura smiled and led Eric back through the bowels of the ER. She had to ask for directions twice, but eventually found her way back out to the waiting room and, from there, back to the parking lot. The rain was still coming down and the wind was still blowing as they made the walk back to her Lexus in the parking garage. Once again, the umbrella offered only marginal protection from the deluge and both of them were moderately damp by the time they made it.
Eric got into the front passenger seat and immediately tried to go back to sleep.
“You need to stay awake,” Laura told him as she started the car and got the defroster working.
“How come?” he groaned.
“Because I don’t know where you live,” she said.
“In Toluca Lake,” he said with a yawn. “Take the 101 to Vineland.”
“And then what?”
“Wake me up at that point,” he said, and then promptly fell asleep.
Laura sighed and put the car in gear and started heading for the 101.
The house where Eric rented a room was in a well-established suburban community tucked into the middle of Toluca Lake, a fairly well-to-do neighborhood in the San Fernando Valley. It was a single-story bungalow with a well-maintained front yard and a couple of tall palm trees. Eric’s car, a ten-year-old Honda Civic, was parked in the driveway. Laura pulled her Lexus to the curb and then stepped out into the rain. She had to shake Eric, who was trying to go back to sleep, to get him out of the passenger side.
They trotted to the front door, which was locked tightly.
“Where’s the key?” Laura asked.
“Uh ... I left it inside when the paramedics took me to the hospital,” he said.
“I see,” Laura said slowly. “What about your landlord? Do you think she’s home now?”
“What time is it?” Eric wanted to know.
Laura looked at her watch, finding that there was a layer of condensation inside of the glass. She sighed. You had to love rain in Los Angeles. It didn’t happen very often, but when it did ... She peered closer and found she could just see the hands through the blur. “Six-fifteen,” she said.
“She should be home then,” Eric said, yawning again. “She leaves the clinic at five-thirty and usually is home by six.”
“All right then,” Laura said. “How about we ring the bell?”
“Okay,” he said, his eyes drooping shut again.
Laura pushed the button and heard the sound of chimes from inside the house. A moment later, she heard footsteps approaching. There was the clanking of several locks and then the door opened, revealing a short-haired brunette woman who appeared to be in her early-thirties. She was dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a long t-shirt. Her breasts were moderately sized and the way they jiggled made it obvious to Laura that she was not currently wearing a bra. The dampness of her hair and the smell of apples about her seemed to indicate she had just finished taking a shower. Her expression went from one of puzzlement to one of concern when she saw who was standing on her front porch.
“Eric?” she said. “I was wondering where you were and why your car was still here. What happened? Another panic attack?”
“Yes,” he said meekly. “Around ten o’clock this morning. I called the ambulance.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” she said in a motherly tone. “Get inside out of the rain. Are you better now?”
“Yes,” he said. “They gave me Ativan and a Xanax. I’m just sleepy.”
“I’m sure you are,” she said, hustling him inside. “Now, go get changed out of those clothes and into bed.”
“Okay,” Eric said, wandering in the direction of the hallway, his gait not entirely steady.
The woman then turned her attention to Laura. She looked her up and down for a moment and then smiled. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Molly Stevens. I own this house and rent a room to Eric.”
“Nice to meet you, Molly,” Laura said. “Eric’s told me a lot about you. I’m Laura Kingsley.”
“You certainly are,” Molly said. “He’s told me a lot about you too. Thank you for taking care of him.”
“Absolutely,” she said. “Luckily, I was still in town. The storm you know. We couldn’t fly back to Oceano today.”
“I guess it all worked out in the end then. Why don’t you come in and sit down with me? Get warmed up.”
“I really should be getting back home,” Laura said.
“I was just going to open a bottle of chardonnay,” Molly said with a smile.
“Well ... maybe I could stay for a bit,” Laura said.
Molly nodded happily and then stood aside to let her enter.
The house was small, but tastefully decorated and very clean. The furniture was modern, with leather couches and glass tables. The flooring was polished wood with several strategically placed throw-rugs. A thirty-two-inch television was sitting on an oak entertainment center along with a stereo system and a couple of speakers.
“You can hang your jacket on the coat rack there,” Molly told her, pointing at the foyer. “And then grab a seat. I’m going to go check to make sure Eric made it into bed and then I’ll pour us some wine.”
“Sounds good,” Laura said, stripping off her wet jacket.
She found a seat on the leather couch and made herself comfortable. Molly was gone for the better part of five minutes. When she returned, she had a chilled bottle of white wine and two glasses in her hands. She sat down on the couch next to Laura and poured them each a glass.
“Sorry for the way I’m dressed,” she told Laura as she handed her the glass. “I just got home from work and showered.”
“I understand,” Laura said. “And you look just fine.”
“Thank you,” Molly said, seemingly pleased. “I’m officially off work now until after Christmas. You gotta love that.”
“Eric told me you’re a physical therapist,” Laura said.
“That’s right,” Molly said. “I work over in Pasadena at the Stromsburg clinic.” She shrugged. “It’s a good job. The pay is decent, and I feel like I’m actually helping people every now and then. It’s not as depressing and soul-sucking as working in the hospital.”
“How long have you been doing that?” Laura asked.
“Let’s see...” she said, pondering that for a moment. “I finished my masters when I was twenty-four and started working in the hospital when I was twenty-five ... so ... I guess that’s fifteen years now.”
“Fifteen years?” Laura said, surprised. “That means you’re ... you’re...”
“I turned forty last month,” Molly told her.
“You’re kidding me,” Laura accused. “You look like you’re in your early thirties at best.”
“Thank you,” Molly beamed, “but I assure you, I’m forty years old. I have a twenty-year-old son in college to prove it.”
“Wow,” Laura said. “That’s hard to believe. You do not look old enough to have a son in college. Not even close.”
“I try to keep myself in shape,” Molly said. “I’ve always been a runner. And these last few years I’ve gotten into aerobics and kick-boxing.”
Laura took a drink of her wine. It was not bad, but it was not quite up to the standards of what she normally drank. She shrugged this off. Not everyone could afford seventy-dollar bottles of wine for everyday drinking. “How did you and Eric meet?” she asked.
She shrugged. “He answered an ad I put in the paper for a room to rent,” she said. “I was really not looking for a male roommate, I can tell you that, but I gave him an interview just so I wouldn’t be accused of sexual discrimination or anything. After I talked to him, I realized he was actually the perfect roomie—if you know what I mean.”