I Made His Wife’s Dress Now I’ll Marry Another Chapter 14
Julien laid out the transplant documents one by one where my mother could see them.
“The new paired exchange chain is missing one link. Two teams, one in Paris and one in Boston, are willing to consult. All potential donors will be assessed independently by the hospital. The foundation will not be involved in any of those decisions.”
He spoke plainly, without burying her in terminology no patient could be expected to follow.
When he finished, my mother patted my hand lightly. “You didn’t waste those years in Paris.”
Just then, the door opened.
Sabine came in carrying a bowl of soup, with Adrian right behind her, holding two garment bags.
Whitmore’s gold-stamped logo gleamed on the bags.
“If Mom is stable next week, the brand wants to do a photo shoot of three generations of women together,” Sabine said softly. “I’ve already prepared the clothes.”
She took out one of the pieces—an ivory coat.
I had designed that coat for my mother when I was twenty-three, a rehabilitation garment with hidden closures, loose sleeves, and enough room for dialysis tubing to pass through.
Six years later, it had finally been made.
The label read: Sabine.