Chapters (27)
- Cover Page
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Part One
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Part Two
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- About the Author
“I’m growing up. Maybe I had my suspicions all along, since I learned how much money there really was.” The telephone rang. “You know who this is,” she said. “Excuse me.” She went out to the bottom of the stairs. “Hello.… Yes, of course he is.… You don’t have to tell me, you’ll only have to say it again to him.… I don’t know. I mean that.… I’ll call him. Joe? It’s Wendell.” When he reached her she had her hand over the mouthpiece. “He asked me if you were hurt by what happened. I said I didn’t know.”
“All right. Hello?”
“Joe? Wendell. I want to apologize for what happened tonight. I had no idea. Did Norma explain how Phyllis happened to be here?”
“She told me a little, yes. She was afraid that I was thinking that Miss Reynolds was your patient.” Now Norma turned away and went into the living room. “This isn’t at all necessary, Wendell. I know that you would have averted what happened if you had seen it.”
“You’re getting a rough time from me, Joe, and I appear to be powerless to control it. I want to assure you that you’ve been getting the effects of accidents. No, Phyllis wouldn’t be my patient. If someone we know comes to us for therapy, we refer them to someone else. Joe, I want to tell you why it wasn’t possible for me to try to stop her as forcefully as I should have for your sake.” Leland heard Norma collecting the dishes in the living room. The sounds were sharp and solitary in the house, and Roberts’ voice moved farther away. The light went out in the kitchen, then in the living room. Roberts was saying something about not discouraging Phyllis, that her relationship with her therapist was delicate, but Leland was just half listening. Norma appeared at the door, turning out the last light. Her eyes caught Leland’s with a steady, almost expressionless gaze. She had his cigarettes, which she had picked up from the coffee table. Roberts said, “The meaning becomes obscure at a certain point, but I am a doctor and my first responsibility is to the sick. You happened to get the worst of it.”
“I understand, Wendell. Don’t give it a thought.”