“Who's in the den?” He assumed it was one of Charlie's friends. They used the room for overflow when all the kids were home. It was the only guest room they had.

“Your mother,” Olympia said, blowing her nose for the thousandth time. After negotiating the blizzard again, her cold had gotten markedly worse.

“My mother? What's she doing here?” He looked confused.

“She broke her ankle. They took her to NYU in an ambulance, and she didn't even call me. I just picked her up half an hour ago.”

“Are you serious?” He looked stunned.

“I am.” She blew her nose yet again. “She can't stay at her place alone. She's in a cast and on crutches. I think she should stay here for a while.”

Harry smiled lovingly at his wife. Olympia never let him down. “Is she awake?”

“She was a few minutes ago, but she's pretty looped on the stuff they gave her for the pain. Poor thing, it must have hurt like hell. I told her to call us on the intercom if she needs to, and not to try and go to the bathroom by herself. You know her. She'll be cooking us all breakfast in the morning. We're going to have to tie her to the bed.”

“I'll go down and check on her,” he said, looking concerned, and then turned to look at Olympia again as he headed out the door. “I love you. Thank you for being so good to her.”

Olympia smiled back at him. “She's the only mom we've got.”

“You're the best wife in the world.”

He was back ten minutes later, impressed by the size of his mother's cast, and the crutches lying next to her bed. She had already been sound asleep. “I turned off the TV, and left a light on for her. She's dead to the world. That's some cast.”

“They said it was a nasty break. She's right. She's lucky it wasn't her hip. If you can call this luck. How was your day?”

“Only slightly better than hers. The press are driving us nuts on this case. You sound like shit. How do you feel?”

“Like I sound. I hope Charlie gets home in this weather. I'm really going to need his help this week.”

Harry looked instantly apologetic. “I'm so sorry I can't take a day off. I just can't right now.”

“I know,” she said mournfully. “Me too. I'm up to my ass in alligators at the office. Margaret took the week off. Her mother had a mastectomy.”

“Jesus, is anyone around here still on their feet?”

“Thank God you are.” They had chicken pox, broken ankles, colds. She just hoped Veronica stayed healthy, and Ginny got healthy, for the ball on Saturday. “If you want to sleep in Charlie's room tonight, it's okay. I don't want you to catch this cold or flu, or whatever it is. It's miserable.”

“Don't be silly. I'm not afraid of you. I never get sick.”

“Shhh!” she said, putting a finger to her lips. “Don't say that!” He laughed at her, took a shower, and was in bed with her half an hour later. She was still blowing and coughing, and had just checked on Max. He was sound asleep.

“It looks like you're going to be running an infirmary here this week,” Harry said as he snuggled up next to her, and put his arms around her. She had her back to him, so she didn't breathe on him, and it was comforting feeling him next to her.

“I'm sorry about your mom. That was rotten luck for her.”

“She's lucky to have you, Ollie…so am I… don't think I don't appreciate all you do for her. You're an amazing woman.”

“Thank you,” she said, as she drifted off to sleep in his arms. “You're not so bad yourself.”

“I'll try and come home early tomorrow,” he promised. She nodded, and within seconds, was fast asleep.





Chapter 6




Olympia got up at six the next morning to check on Frieda. Her cold was no better, but at least it wasn't worse. Her mother-in-law was still sound asleep, and there was no sign that she had gotten up during the night. She looked as though she hadn't moved an inch since Olympia had tucked her into bed the night before. Olympia had given her one of her own nightgowns, a big loose flannel one she'd worn when she was pregnant with Max. It was short on Frieda, and the sleeves were short, which she knew her mother-in-law didn't like. Her arms lay on top of the sheets, and Olympia could see the tattoo she always tried to hide. Seeing it, the rare times she did, never failed to make Olympia sad. It was impossible for her to imagine what those years must have been like for her. Knowing she had survived that always touched Olympia's heart. She tiptoed out of the room, and went back upstairs to take a shower. Harry was already nearly dressed. He had to be in the office for a press conference early that morning. And at seven, just as Olympia was combing her hair, Max woke up. He said he felt better, though he had as many spots as he'd had the night before, if not more.

“How are all your patients?” Harry asked as he put on his jacket and straightened his tie.

“Max says he feels better, and your mom is still asleep.”

“Can you manage?” he asked, looking worried but also rushed.

Olympia laughed. “Do I have a choice?”

“I guess not,” he said, looking apologetic. At least, he knew, now his mother going to the ball wouldn't be an issue. He had the excuse of staying home to take care of her, which he felt sure would get him off the hook, and make him look like less of a louse for not going. He had been feeling guilty about not going for weeks, but no matter how guilty he felt, he absolutely refused to go. And now his mother couldn't go, either. She could hardly go to a ball on crutches, unable to put any weight on one foot. He said nothing about it to his wife, but he was nonetheless relieved, although sorry about his mother's accident and the burden it would put on his wife. It seemed providential in some ways, for him.

“Don't worry,” Olympia reassured him. “The sitter will be here in half an hour. She can take care of both of them. And Charlie will be home tonight. He can give us a hand till the girls come home. Then we can all take turns.” He nodded, not entirely convinced that her optimism about her daughters was well founded. Ginny was not exactly famous for being helpful around the house. He knew Charlie would be a godsend, and if she was in the right mood and didn't have other plans, Veronica might lend a hand. Maybe. If there was no protest she felt she had to participate in, no one to picket, and no abused child or homeless person somewhere in the city whom she felt needed her help. Helping the family was low on her list of priorities, and as they all did, she counted on her mother to take care of everything. Somehow Olympia always did. Harry felt guilty about that, too. Five minutes later, with a quick kiss to his wife, and a promise to be home as early as humanly possible, he left for work.

Olympia made Mickey Mouse pancakes for Max, put on a video for him, and checked on Frieda in the den again. She was still asleep when the sitter arrived. Olympia was grateful to see her, explained about the condition of both their patients, picked up her briefcase, and literally ran out the door. There was a foot of fresh snow on the ground, but it had finally stopped falling. And as usual, in weather like that, it took her half an hour to find a cab. Margaret called her in the office that afternoon, and asked how things were going. All Olympia could do was laugh.

“Well, let's see, Max has chicken pox, Frieda broke her ankle yesterday and is staying in our den. I have the cold of the century. Ginny is sick at school. And Charlie's coming home tonight, thank God.”

“Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the performance?”

“Yeah. Right. When it rains, it pours. I just hope the girls stay in one piece till Saturday. After that, we can all fall apart.”

“What's Harry doing to help?”

“Nothing at the moment. He's dealing with a crisis at the court of appeals.”

“I know. I saw his press conference this morning. Just when I'd decided I hate the guy for not going to the ball with you, I fell in love with him all over again for the positions he takes. The guy is really a mensch, even though I think he's an asshole for not going with you on Saturday.”

“You can't have everything, I guess,” Olympia said with a sigh. “I love him, too. He stands for the right stuff, and is willing to fight for it to the death. Unfortunately, that includes his ideologies about the ball. I guess you can't have it both ways. He stands for what he believes. At least Chauncey is being decent. He must be sick.”

“If he gives you a hard time on Saturday, I'll kick him in the shins.”

“How's your mom doing?”

“Better than I thought she would. There is something about that generation of women. You've got to hand it to them. They're tough, and have a lot of guts. I'd be a mess. She's happy to be alive.”

“Frieda's like that, too. All she could do last night was apologize for being a burden on us. Once Max feels better and is no longer contagious, at least they can keep each other company. I think he's almost there now. I have to check. I don't want him giving her shingles.”

“That's all you need.” Margaret was impressed by all Olympia was handling. She always did. Kids, work, husband, crises. She somehow managed to juggle it all. It seemed to be the lot of working women. They had to be geniuses in the office, and tireless dynamos at home. As far as Margaret was concerned, it was too many hats to wear at once, which was why she had opted not to have kids. She could handle work and a husband, but four kids like Olympia's, or even one, would have been way more than she could cope with. As she pointed out regularly, she didn't even have pets or plants. Work was more than enough for her. And her husband was a dream. He took care of the house, organized their social life, and cooked for her when she got home. “Let me know if I can do anything to help,” Margaret offered, but Olympia knew she had her hands full with her mother. She was just happy she'd be there Saturday night. With the girls nervous and wound up, Charlie and the other escort to keep track of, Frieda on crutches or in a wheelchair, and a potentially hostile ex-husband to deal with, Olympia was going to be crazed.