Daddy's Gone a Hunting

7

Douglas Connelly woke up at nine Thursday morning. He grunted and opened his eyes, momentarily disoriented. The last thing he remembered was getting into the car. Then blurry images formed in his mind. The doorman holding his arm… Danny taking the keys from him… Danny putting a pillow under his head.

The head that was splitting now.

Awkwardly, Doug sat up and swung his feet onto the floor. Leaning his hands on the coffee table for balance, he managed to pull himself up to a standing position. For a moment he waited until the room stopped spinning, then he made his way into the kitchen, where he took a half-empty bottle of vodka and a can of tomato juice from the refrigerator. He poured them half and half into a juice glass and gulped it down.

Kate was right, he thought. I shouldn’t have bought that bottle of champagne last night. Another possibility pushed through the fog in his head. I’ve got to be sure that the bottle that jerk Majestic sent over to the runner-up beauty queen didn’t end up on my bill.

Doug moved slowly into his bedroom, shedding his clothes with every step. It was only after he’d showered, shaved, and dressed that he bothered to check his phone messages.

At 2 A.M. Sandra had tried to reach him. “Oh, Doug, I feel terrible. I just went over to thank Majestic for the champagne and the sweet things he said about me, and he begged me to sit with him and his friends for just a minute. Before I knew it, the sos-men-elee, I mean whatever they call that guy who opens the wine, came over with the bottle Majestic had sent over and said you had to leave. I had a lovely time with you an-”

Connelly pressed the delete button before Sandra had finished speaking. He could see that the next message was from Jack, and the one after was from his daughter, Hannah. Well, at least she doesn’t ride me about how I should sell the plant every time she talks to me, he thought.

When he realized that Jack’s call had come in at 5:10 A.M. and Hannah’s call twenty minutes later, he knew something was wrong. Blinking his eyes to try to focus and sound sober, his finger unsteady, he pushed the button to return the call.

Hannah answered on the first ring. In a monotone she told him about the explosion, about Gus and about Kate’s severe injuries. “Kate just came out of surgery to relieve the pressure on her brain. I can’t see her yet. I’m waiting to speak to her surgeon.”

“The plant is gone!” Doug exclaimed. “Everything? You mean everything, the factory, the showroom, the museum, all the antiques?”

Hannah’s voice unleashed her pent-up anger and heartbreak. “Didn’t you get our calls? Your daughter may not survive!” she screamed. “If she does, she may be brain damaged. Kate may be dying… And you, her father, ask about your godforsaken business.”

Her voice became icy. “Just in case you want to stop by, your daughter is in Manhattan Midtown Hospital. If you’re sober enough to get here, ask for the post-op waiting room. You’ll find me there praying that my only sister is still alive.”