“It’s right here.” Irina handed Frankie a thick manila file.

“Mrs. Tremont, effective immediately, your family are no longer patients here.” Frankie handed Judy her file. “I would give you a referral, but I honestly can’t inflict you on one of my colleagues.”

“I will sue you for malpractice.”

“Good-bye, Mrs. Tremont. And if your daughters ask what happened, tell them you didn’t want them to have to wait in a room you considered dangerous because people you wouldn’t dream of inviting to dinner have the same ailments they do.”

Frankie walked back into her office and found Pippa sitting silently where she had left her.

“Judy doesn’t mean any harm,” Pippa said quietly.

“I can’t allow her to disturb my office like that.” Frankie began clearing her desk.

“The thing is you don’t even know what privilege really means until you get news like this.”

“Nothing is conclusive yet.” Frankie looked at Pippa.

“Do you think this is why Alex didn’t get into Collegiate?” Pippa asked.

“Beg your pardon?” Frankie was taken aback.

“This tumor. Does this account for the hyperactivity and his crashing on the ERBs?” Pippa asked.

“I know a lot of brilliant kids who crashed on those tests.” Frankie sloughed off the question. “I don’t think it’s related.”

“But once we take care of this, do you think I could get Alex out of Trevor Day and into a first-tier school? I know he’s as bright as my daughter, Jennifer. And she’s at Brearley.”

“Pippa.” Frankie put her arm around her. “Let’s take care of Alex first. I can make an appointment with Dr. Haim for you today.”

Pippa got up. “Do you think it’s because I let him eat Cheetos? I couldn’t help it. He loves Cheetos.”

“There’s not many things I can promise in medicine, but I am willing to put my reputation on the line that it wasn’t the Cheetos.”

“Then life just sucks, doesn’t it?” Pippa said uncharacteristically.

Frankie looked at Pippa, the pain in her eyes gave a humanity to her tightly pulled face and hair.

“Can you fix this?” Pippa’s voice was now cracking.

“I know there’s a good possibility we can.” Frankie heard herself employing a practical distance.

“How good a possibility?” Pippa asked.

“My father used to say to me, ‘Frankie, your problem is ninety-five percent solved.’ And I’d ask him what about the other five percent and he’d tell me I’d have to have an ‘in’ with a much higher power than him.”

“Was your father religious?” Pippa asked.

“No. He was just a very smart man.”

“Did he pass away?”

“No. He’s not very well.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re right about privilege, Pippa. It’s so easy to forget the privilege of having a parent or child that you love. I think we all get distracted by a pair of shoes.”