Steinwood and Corbett knew that the gravy train was going to come to an end soon. They had skated through the two mishaps: Lorraine Thompson’s overdose and Marjorie Brewster’s coma in Aspen. Three of Steinwood’s patients had threatened to bring malpractice suits after spending hundreds of thousands of dollars each and being no better off than before the treatment began. He had politely reminded them of the waiver and nondisclosure agreement they had signed. Ironclad. As long as nobody died. But that was a problem. Because somebody had died. And someone from Natural Way Magazine was breathing down Corbett’s neck for an interview. The one thing they did not need was publicity, since they were practicing medicine without a license, a fact that too much transparency might bring to light.

Live-Life-Long managed its reputation through false advertising and phony review websites and blogs. Yes. It was definitely time to convene a meeting with his partners and develop a strategy for exiting the health-care profession unscathed. He snickered at the words health care. As applied to their work, an oxymoron at the very least.

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Pinewood

When Charlotte finished her spa visit, she felt like she was walking on air. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so rejuvenated, including the time after getting her shots from Drs. Steinwood and Marcus. She was beginning to question her judgment. Maybe their longevity program wasn’t right for her. She decided to discuss it with Myra. Myra was always so wise about things like this, and if necessary, Charles could provide information about the program and the doctors. Yes. She was going to talk about her “condition.” Whatever the heck her “condition” was.

The sleek town car pulled through the gates at the entrance to the farm. Charlotte was almost giddy at the thought of spilling her guts to Myra. The driver opened the passenger door and helped her out of the backseat. She reached over for the beautiful package wrapped in white linen, adorned by an equally beautiful orchid. It was a box of Myra’s favorite white chocolate. Charlotte was so pleased that the spa was only a few doors from the chocolatier. Even though candy was the source of Myra’s fortune, the little shop was owned by a French couple who made the most divine white chocolate. For years, Myra had tried to get her kitchen crew to replicate the taste, all to no avail. Charles had once whispered in her ear, “My dear, sometimes a little mystery can be exciting.” Charles would occasionally use that phrase, which always made Myra blush with delight. Charlotte knew Myra would protest, but Charlotte was determined to show her appreciation for all the attention and care she was being shown.