“Everything is perfect. She had a generous breakfast and a nice long nap. Robbie was here at ten, and they did almost the full hour of exercise.”

“Good. Is she up now?”

“Yes.” The nurse's eyes shifted to me. “She's been waiting for you.”

“This is Dr. Delaware.”

“Hello, doctor. Selena Limberton.”

“Hello.” We shook hands. Josh said, “Have you had your lunch break yet?”

“No,” said the nurse.

“Now would be a good time.”

They talked a bit more, about medicines and exercises, and I studied the family portraits, settling on one that showed Harvey Rosenblatt in a dark three-piece suit, beaming in the midst of his brood. Josh around eighteen, with long, unruly hair, a fuzzy mustache, and black-rimmed eyeglasses. Next to him, a beautiful girl with a long, graceful face and sculpted cheekbones, maybe two or three years older. The same dark eyes as her brother. The oldest child was a young man in his midtwenties who resembled Josh, but thick necked and heavier, with cruder features, curly hair, and a full, dark beard that mimicked his father's.

Shirley Rosenblatt was tiny, fair, and blue-eyed, her blond hair cut very short, her smile full but frail even in health. Her shoulders weren't much wider than those of a child. It was hard to imagine her birthing the robust trio.

Mrs. Limberton said, “All righty, then, I'll be back in an hour—where's Leo?”

Josh looked around.

I said, “I think he's hiding behind the couch.”

The nurse went over, bent, and lifted the cat. His body was limp. Nuzzling him, she said, “I'll bring you back some chicken if you behave.” The cat blinked. She set him down on the couch and he curled up, eyes open and watchful.

Josh said, “Did you feed the fish?”

She smiled. “Yes. Everything's taken care of. Now you don't worry yourself about any more details, she's going to be fine. Nice meeting you, doctor. Bye-bye.”

The door closed. Josh frowned.

“Don't worry?” he said. “I went to school to learn how to worry.”

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER

27

Another small room, this one yellow, the windows misted by lace curtains.

Shirley Rosenblatt looked better than I had expected, propped up in a hospital bed and covered to the waist with a white comforter. Her hair was still blond, though dyed lighter, and she'd grown it out a little. Her delicate face had remained pretty.

A wicker bed tray was pushed into one corner. To one side of the bed was a cane chair and a pine dresser topped by perfume bottles. Opposite that stood a large saltwater aquarium on a teakwood base. The water bubbled silently. Gorgeous fish glided through a miniature coral reef.