Wildest Dreams (Thunder Point #9)(10)

He was ridiculously pleased that she used his first name. He could feel his smile grow to an almost silly width. “No, thank you. I just finished a ride. I hope that cold wasn’t because...you know...”

She put the tray on the table. “He’s had a good summer. An asthma episode can’t bring on a cold but a cold can weaken his resistance to asthma. He seems to be fine—just some congestion and a cough.” She pulled up a chair for Blake and then took one herself, passing out the drinks. “Exercise-induced asthma is probably to be expected since he has a history, but I’ll tell you what’s frightening—when a big attack comes on for no apparent reason. That hasn’t happened in a long time.” She took a sip of her tea. “I’ll leave him home till he’s completely over it.”

“I apologize if the bike brought it on. I had no idea...”

“Of course you didn’t,” Winnie said. “Charlie should have mentioned it. I suspect he wanted to get on that bike so badly he wouldn’t dare risk it. He’s been lusting after your bike since he first laid eyes on it.”

“That’s the worst thing about being fourteen,” Blake said. “Doing all the things you’re supposed to do.”

“I’ll be happy if he learned something. He can have a completely normal life as long as he’s careful.”

And listens to his mother, Blake thought. There were some teenage boys to whom that was a luxury. They couldn’t always be careful.

“Will you promise to stay if we deal?” Winnie asked Blake.

“If I’m not imposing,” he said.

“Not at all. I enjoy having you drop by. By the way, when is the next big race?”

“Three weeks, in Tahoe. I’ll go a week early to train in the mountains there, to get acclimated. My trainer will come here first. We’ll do a trial run, then go to Tahoe together to get ready.”

“Where is your trainer now?” Troy asked.

“She’s in Boulder, her home base. She’s an exercise physiologist. Well, she’s a PhD in physiology, not an ordinary trainer. She’s a partner in an athletic training facility and I’m not the only client by a long shot. Sometimes she’ll send a colleague. Babysitter, that’s all—I have my own degree and have been doing this for a long time. But there’s no substitute for a trainer who challenges the protocol, pushes at the edges of the envelope and generally provides data on the competition that can be useful. She’s a little bit like a manager—sending me daily reports on the results of events from all over the world and making recommendations based on training studies.”

It was quiet around the bridge table. “Sounds a lot more complicated than I thought,” Lin Su said.

“Is complicated,” Mikhail said. “Grace was my full-time job for nine years. You have this trainer part-time?” he asked Blake.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I admit a trainer is beneficial and even necessary, but I’m pigheaded and don’t like a lot of interference. I also don’t like to be too crowded. So, who’s the bridge favorite at this table?”

“Once it was me,” Winnie said. “Then I hired a nurse from Boston. On top of that, I might drop my cards at any moment.”

“My adoptive mother played a lot of bridge. I learned young so I could sit in if they needed a fourth. I shouldn’t play so well—I think my job is at risk,” Lin Su said.

“Is a competitive table,” Mikhail said. “It will anger Winnie if you win. It will anger her if you don’t play well. You are doomed.”

The cards were dealt, but before anyone could pick them up, Lin Su’s phone chimed in her pocket. “Excuse me please, Charlie is checking in.”

Surprise immediately came over her features and she stiffened into a posture of fear. “Your EpiPen? How could you...? Okay, don’t talk too much...The oxygen? Did you call 9-1-1?...Okay, stay on the line, I’ll get them.” She looked at Winnie for just a second. “Charlie can’t breathe. I’m going. Will you be all right?”

“Mikhail and Troy will be here,” she said. “Just go.”

“I’ll go with you,” Blake said.

“I’ve got this,” Lin Su said, turning and running into the house. She pulled her purse out of the kitchen pantry and was on the move.

Blake stayed with her. When she got to the garage and was heading down the drive to her car he caught her. “I’ll drive you,” he said. “You can deal with your phone while I drive. I’m calmer and faster.”

She gave it about one second of thought. “Do you have your phone?”

He pulled it out of his pocket and traded his phone for her keys and they got in. She gave him the beginning of the directions, out of Thunder Point, headed toward south Bandon and Coquille, then she told Charlie to stay calm, stay on the line; she was on her way. She placed the 9-1-1 call and said she needed medical assistance immediately. She explained her son’s condition and even recommended drugs that had been effective before—epinephrine, corticosteroids and magnesium sulfate. She said something very soft to Charlie, then went back to the 9-1-1 operator.

“I don’t know what happened. He was fine this morning—no wheezing, no symptoms—and now he can’t explain because he can’t talk... I’m a nurse. I’m on my way, I might beat you there... Yes, he had an EpiPen and when I asked about it he just said ‘lost.’ That isn’t like Charlie... Yes, I’m coming, Charlie...”