“Yes, boss?”
“The Kellers are coming in. Mr. Keller called my cell to ask if they could swing by. Can you bring their file?”
“On it.”
“Thanks.”
I’m busy wrapping up my last client’s appointment when my phone buzzes again. Dammit. I can’t get caught up today.
I grab it absentmindedly. “Atlas here,” I answer.
“Uh, hi,” the man’s voice says. “You’re Howie Winslow’s nephew, right?”
I sit up straight, suddenly focused. “Yes. Who is this?”
“My name is Zane. I work at your uncle’s hotel. He’s, well, he’s in the hospital, and you’re his only family contact in his phone.”
“Oh no. What happened?”
“We’re not sure yet. The hospital won’t release information to us. He collapsed this morning while he was checking people in. Any way you could get out here?”
“I’ll be there as soon as possible. Where should I go?”
“Scripps Mercy.”
“Thank you, Zane.”
“Of course.”
Grabbing my computer and phone, I hustle out of my office, stopping at Charles’s desk. “I have to go. Family emergency in California. Clear my calendar the rest of the week.”
“You got it, boss. Anything else I can do?”
I rub my forehead, my mind racing. “I think that’s it, but keep your phone handy.”
“Need a ticket?”
“Ah, yes. Please book the first thing out.”
“I’m on it. I’ll text you the itinerary.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“Go.”
Two hours later, I’m at LaGuardia boarding first class to San Diego. I can’t bear the thought of losing Uncle Howie. He’s always been there for me when others weren’t, cheering me on in a family too busy making money to notice what their kids were doing.
We remained close even after my grandparents shunned him because of his sexuality. My own parents never cared much for him, even though my dad is his brother. I’m the only person after all these years who talks to him and visits.
I rub my forehead. I stayed away too long. The last time I was out there was two years ago. Now I might never get to see him again.
By the time I get to San Diego and grab a ride to the hospital, it’s been hours since I got the call. I walk to the front desk in the ER, noticing a group of familiar faces in the waiting area.
“Can I help you?” the nurse asks.
“My uncle was brought in. Howie Winston. I’m his nephew, Atlas. His emergency contact.”
She clicks on the computer. “He’s about to go to recovery.”