Second Chances in Lavender Bay (The Lavender Bay Chronicles #3)

15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

T en days later, her mother and her sisters accompanied Angie to her follow-up appointment with the oncologist. Again, the nurse had to bring in two extra chairs. Angie and her mother sat directly across from the doctor’s desk, and Maureen and Nadine sat behind them. The arrangement reminded Angie of theater seating.

Dr. Meskal walked in and said, “Good morning.”

They all murmured “Good morning” in response. Angie tried to read his expression, but it was neutral. He seemed his usual self. It was maddening.

At his request, she hopped up on the examination table so he could take a look at her lumpectomy incision. Her sisters and mother made to leave, but she waved them off.

“Any redness or drainage?” he asked.

She shook her head, and he declared, “It’s healing nicely.”

The bruising had faded, but she’d been left with a dent along the side of her breast. It was uncomfortable to look at the disfigurement. When looking in the mirror, she kept her gaze planted firmly on her face. Hopefully, as time went on, she’d get used to the new landscape of her body.

“Take a seat, Angie,” the doctor said.

Quickly, she rehooked the front closure of her bra and pulled her turtleneck over her head, ignoring the resulting static in her hair. She returned to her seat next to her mother.

Louise reached over and held out her hand. Angie took hold of it, likening it to an anchor that moored a boat.

Dr. Meskal sat down, pulled his chair close to his desk, and opened her chart. There was no preamble. “As you might remember, we did a sentinel biopsy in conjunction with the lumpectomy.”

Louise gave Angie’s hand a gentle squeeze.

The doctor continued. “Unfortunately, one lymph node tested positive for malignancy.”

Angie drew in a sharp breath. Her mother looked straight ahead. Behind her, Nadine whispered, “Oh no.” Dr. Meskal continued to speak, but Angie felt as if she were at the other end of a long tunnel. She heard words like chemotherapy and radiation, but all the other words fell away. She hoped her mother and sisters were paying attention.

Upon leaving, she was given a folder of pertinent information. She didn’t bother opening it. Dazed, she let herself be led like a child to the parking lot, her mother’s arm linked through her own. Her mother and sisters remained subdued as they all returned to Louise’s house. They ordered Chinese takeout for dinner, but Angie had no appetite.

Maureen leafed through the folder from the oncologist’s office as she ate. “You should go through this, Ang. There’s a lot of information in here. What to expect during radiation and chemotherapy. Some things you can do for yourself. Also, there’s a support group that meets every Wednesday evening at the hospital.”

“That might be a good idea,” Louise said. “Meet with other people who are going through the same thing.”

Angie couldn’t think of anything more depressing. Sitting around with a bunch of cancer patients. No thanks. She said instead, “Did anyone pay any attention to when I’m supposed to start treatment? Because I didn’t get that part.” Overwhelming anxiety caused her voice to rise in pitch and volume. “I should have paid more attention.”

Louise, Maureen and Nadine were immediately at her side, reassuring her.

“I took notes,” Maureen said. “Arrangements are being made and you’ll be notified. Probably in the next week or two.”

“That soon? I’m not ready . . .” Angie’s voice trailed off. There were a million and one things to be done at the café.

“You have no choice, honey,” Louise said solemnly.

“It’s a lot to take on,” Nadine added. “You’re feeling overwhelmed right now, which is understandable.”

“It’s going to be all right,” Louise said.

Was it? It didn’t feel like it was. Everything felt far from all right. Angie’s gaze bounced around the room, taking in everything that was familiar, trying to focus on one thing but unable to settle.

She voiced the question that had filled her mind on the drive home. “How am I going to work and do treatment?”

Her mother and her sisters exchanged a glance.

The food they’d ordered was left half eaten, plates half full.

“Honey,” Louise said, “your health and this treatment have to come first, above everything else. Melissa can run the café.”

Angie groaned.

“Mom’s right,” Maureen added. “Nothing in your life is more important right now than beating this.”

“Angie, I know it’s dire,” Nadine said, “but you’re tough.”

“Am I?” This wasn’t a business setback or a failed marriage, this was a death threat. Suddenly, Angie stood up from her chair, her napkin falling to the floor.

“Where are you going?” Maureen asked.

“I want to go home,” Angie replied.

“Why don’t you stay here overnight?” her mother said. Angie looked at her. Her poor mother. She was pale. She’d aged considerably in the last few weeks.

Angie shook her head. “Mom, there will be plenty of times in the future when I’ll need to stay over.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “I’d like to be alone.”

Maureen put an arm around her. “All right, Ang. I’ll drive you home.”

“Thanks.” She hugged her mother and Nadine, and her mother held her for a few extra seconds.

Maureen pulled into Angie’s driveway. “Do you want me to come in with you?” she asked. “We could watch a movie or something or hang out.”

Angie shook her head. “I appreciate it, but I need to be alone for a while.”

Her sister nodded. “I understand.”

As Angie got out of the car, Maureen said, “Call me any time, for anything you need.”

“Thanks, Maureen.”

“Hold on, Angie. You forgot this.” Maureen held out the folder to her.

“Thanks.”

Angie reached the side door of her house and waved to her sister, who returned the wave before driving off. She went inside and locked up for the night, dropping the folder on the kitchen table and making her way to her bedroom, flipping on lights as she went.

She changed into her pajamas and heavy robe and padded to the living room, where she sat down on the sofa in darkness. After a while, she picked up her phone and called Tom to fill him in. He’d stopped in the café earlier that day and asked her to call him after her follow-up meeting with the doctor. When she told him that she’d need both chemotherapy and radiation, he said, “Best to throw everything at it.”

“I guess.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m home.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Want company?”

She smiled. “I appreciate it but no. I need some time alone.”

“Understood.”

They made small talk for a few more minutes before hanging up.

Her life; her work; the café, which she loved more than anything; everything was going to change. Nothing would ever be the same. And she had no control over this. She was livid. The world she’d carefully constructed over the last decade was under threat. And her own life hung in the balance.

She clenched her fists and ground her teeth to stifle a scream.