Frankie looked at the Tiffany clock on Fifty-seventh Street. For no reason, she had wandered at least forty blocks. Every day now she walked more and more as if to hold on to her father and her city before everything changed.

She found a gypsy cab to take her back to Mount Sinai.

“They say the terror alert was a joke,” the driver said to her. “April Fools’ on New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s good,” Frankie said.

“They thought they found something in the food supply at Citarella, but they got it wrong. You going to the hospital?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m a doctor,” she answered.

“You look young to be a doctor.” He laughed.

Frankie took the elevator up to the fourth floor in the children’s pavilion at Mount Sinai and walked into the NICU. She would check on her patient, Emanuel Martinez. The little boy, who was now four pounds two ounces, was scheduled to go home today.

Frankie opened the isolette and held the child in her arms. She carefully adjusted the wires connected to the heart and lung monitors. She looked at his face, no bigger than an apple. He had struggled to survive and passed the turning point. She stroked his finger, the size of a thimble.

“Can he still go home today?” The child’s mother approached her.

“That’s the plan. He’s ready to roll. His heartbeat is steady and his breathing is normal.” Frankie smiled.

“Did you bring a car seat and a snowsuit?” the nurse asked.

“Yes.” The mother started to cry. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe he’s coming home. He’s been here for two months. Will he be all right?”

“He’s doing remarkably well so far,” Frankie answered. “Get him dressed and I’ll walk you downstairs with his nurse.”

Frankie went over to the reception desk to get the child’s release form.

“Dr. Weissman.” Juan, the nurse, was on call. “Will I see you dancing at Avalon later?”

“Honey, I can’t.” Frankie smiled at him. “I’m going on tonight as Lorelei Lee.”

“Really?” He laughed. “Where?”

“Four a.m. The Burger King at Sixth Avenue and Eighth Street.”

Juan kissed her. “Happy New Year, Dr. W. It’s great news about the Martinez baby going home.”

Frankie smiled at him. “Sometimes you just get it right.”

Frankie escorted the child with his parents and the NICU nurse to the hospital door. It had begun to snow outside and Frankie pulled up the baby’s hood.

“Here, let me sign you out.” She signed the baby’s outpatient papers and handed a copy to his mother. “Hold on to this.”

The father extended his hand. “Thank you, Dr. Weissman. Happy New Year.”

“Just a minute, I forgot something. He still has our jewelry on.” Frankie turned to the hospital guard. “Can I borrow a scissor?”