by D P Lyle
This one wants to manage the clinic and that one fears it will take patients from his practice. This one wants to interpret tests performed at the clinic, for a fee, and that one wants the testing done by a lab he wholly or partly owns. This one wants credit and power, and that one does, too. The politics of medicine can get ugly and that’s why Jill often found herself in the political mosh pit.
Jill’s passion for this project boiled down to her belief that the hospital should do things for those in need. Do things that weren’t necessarily bottom-line driven. It put her at odds with the board, but she isn’t one to back down. That’s one of the many things I love about her.
“All I’m asking is for a chance to present this to the board,” she said into the phone with a shake of her head. “At the meeting next week.” Pause. “Okay, I’ll wait to hear back from you.”
She hung up the phone, parked the wayward strand behind her ear, and massaged one temple.
“Sounds like you’re having a good day,” I said.
“Money. Makes everyone get their hackles up.” She sighed. “Please tell me you have some good news.”
“I do.” I placed four plastic bags on her desk, each with several vials of blood and a lab request sheet inside. “Three paying customers.”
She nodded toward the bags. “Looks like four.”
I smiled. “One isn’t paying.”
“You know I can’t keep doing free lab work for you.”
“Not for me. For Miranda Randall.”
“Who’s that?”
I told her Miranda’s story as she tapped her pen on her desk.
“Three for one is better than your usual,” she acknowledged. “I’ll get these to the lab and cover the tracks on Ms. Randall’s tests.”
“Thanks.”
“You owe me,” she said. “Dinner tonight? I need wine.”
“And maybe a little Hank?”
She laughed. “Don’t go all piggish on me.”
“Just offering.”
“You’re so generous.”
“Just trying to ease your worried brow.”
She laughed. “I need that about now.”
“Actually I have something better than dinner. A party at Ellie Wentworth’s place.”
“Really? I love her. What’s the occasion?”
“A prewedding party for Nicole, Ellie’s granddaughter, and her friends.”
Jill glanced at her watch and then opened her appointment calendar. “What time?”
“Seven.”
“I have a meeting with a supplier at six. Then I’ll have to go home and clean up. What’s the attire for this party?”
“Ellie said casual.”
“Her casual or my casual?”
“Hers, I would suspect.” I smiled. “I don’t think sweatpants and a T-shirt would be appropriate.”
“I thought you liked my sweats.”
“I do. But I’m not sure Ellie’s other guests will be quite that casual.”
She laughed again. “I’ll be a little late, so I’ll meet you there.”
“That works for me.”
By the time I got back home to the guesthouse on Boris’s Shadow Pond estate, Evan was frantic. He had four pairs of pants, seven shirts, and no fewer than six sport jackets laid out on his bed. He was obviously having trouble deciding which ensemble worked best.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“I think you’re an idiot.”
“Not funny. Which combo looks the best?”
“On you? Any will do. The clothes aren’t the problem.”
“Still not funny. So really, which works best?”
“I’m not sure you want me for your fashion consultant.”
“That’s true.”
“Why are you so wound up about what to wear?”
“A party at Ellie Wentworth’s? A lot of Hamptons movers and shakers will be there. Future HankMed clients.”
“You realize this is a party for Ellie’s granddaughter? For her wedding? Right?”
“Business never sleeps.”
“Maybe you could tuck it in just for tonight. Besides, I think this will mostly be Nicole’s friends. You know, young and healthy.”
“But they have parents who might need our services. That’s why I need to look cool.”
“Cool?”
“With-it. Hip. Happening.”
“I know what’s going to happen. You’re going to act like a fool.”
“Did you say cool?”
I shook my head. “I know another thing that’s going to happen. I’m going to take a shower.”
I did. Then I got dressed. Gray slacks, white shirt, and a navy jacket. I settled on the living room sofa and began reading an article in this week’s edition of JAMA while I waited on Evan. When he finally appeared, he had decided on gray slacks, a white shirt, and a navy jacket.
“You should change,” he said.
“I got here first.”
“But I’m the one who needs to look cool and this is my coolest outfit.”
“Mine, too.”
“But Jill doesn’t care what you wear.”
“I’ll tell her that and see if she agrees.”
“But . . .”
I waved him away and stood. “I’ll change jackets.”
I chose a black one.
Chapter 6
Sam greeted Evan and me at the door. He wore not only his typical gray suit, blue vest, and red bow tie but also a big smile. Bigger than I had ever seen. Sam was always formal and professional, and when he smiled, it was warm but quick, as if he was simply being polite. Playing his role as the friendly gatekeeper of Ellie’s domain. Tonight he was beaming. Maybe he’d expected someone else, but the smile didn’t evaporate when he opened the door and saw us, so that theory didn’t fit. Beyond his smiling face, I heard music and the chatter of conversation, punctuated with laughter.
“Dr. Lawson. Mr. Lawson. Welcome.”
“Thanks, Sam,” I said. “Hope we’re not too late.”
“Not at all, sir.”
“You look happy, Sam.”
“I am, sir. This place always livens up when Miss Nicole visits. Ellie glows whenever she’s around.”
That explained the oversized smile.
“So the excitement hasn’t caused her any problems?” I asked.
“Quite the contrary. She’s the life of the party.” He stepped back and waved a hand. “Please, enjoy yourselves.”
The party, small by Ellie’s standards, only sixty or so people, was in full swing. The crowd was mostly Nicole’s friends, young, attractive, and attired in designer rags. Rags with four-figure price tags. It was obvious that several of the women, though only in their twenties, were not strangers to the plastic surgeon’s knife. The gathering filled the great room and spilled out through the open doors onto the rear patio. Tux-clad waiters and waitresses circulated with trays of champagne and food.
Evan immediately grabbed a glass and a plate, which he topped with two fat shrimp and a half dozen lobster bites. He popped some lobster in his mouth and spoke around it. “This is great, isn’t it?”
I took a flute of champagne. “The food or the party?”
“Both.” Evan took a gulp of champagne. “Let’s mingle.”
“Are you going to embarrass yourself tonight?”
“Moi?” He flattened one palm over his chest. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of what?” I turned toward the voice. It was Divya. “I was wondering if you were going to make it,” she said as she glanced at her watch.
“Wardrobe issues,” I said. “Evan couldn’t decide what to wear.”
She looked at him. “You look very nice, Evan R. Lawson.”
Evan bowed. “As do you, Divya Katdare.” He extended his plate toward her. “Shrimp?”
“No, thanks.” Then she raised her glass. “I could do with a little more champagne, though.”
As if he had heard her request, a waiter appeared.
Divya exchanged her empty flute for a full one.
“Have you met the bride-to-be yet?” Divya asked.
“No. Just got here.”
“Come along and I’ll introduce you.”
We found Nicole on the back patio. Her face reflected the setting sun, and the warm ocean breeze lightly jostled her perfectly layered blond hair. She was even more beautiful than her pictures. A rich caramel tan, a flawless smile, and the bluest of blue eyes I’d ever seen.
“I’m so glad you could come,” she said as I shook her hand. “Ellie raves about you.”
“I pay her to say that.”
“Oh, I thought she paid you.” Her eyes literally twinkled when she smiled.
“Very good.”
“Evan R. Lawson,” Evan said. “CFO of HankMed.”
He extended his hand and Nicole took it.
“I know about you, too,” Nicole said. “Ellie said I should watch out for you.”
“Me? Why would she say that?”
I wonder.
“Something about a reformed wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Nicole laughed.
Yes, her laugh was musical. She was a living, breathing cliché of feminine beauty. I swear.
She extracted her hand from Evan’s. “I’m just teasing you. I understand you have a girlfriend. Is she here?”
“No. She’s in California right now.”
“What part?”
“Orange County. She’s with her parents. Visiting family.”
“I want all of you to meet my parents.” Nicole looked around, finally settling her gaze on a woman who could be only her mother. An older version of Nicole, a younger version of Ellie. She wore a red silk dress that clung to her lean curves. Nicole waved her over. She headed our way, her walk that of a runway model. She was followed by a man in a dark blue suit with a yellow tie and a pale blue shirt. One of those with the white collar and cuffs. He also walked like a runway model.
Nicole introduced Evan, Divya, and me to her mother, Jacqueline, who said we should call her Jackie, and her father, Mark. Jackie’s handshake was firm, Mark’s less so. One of those limp dismissive shakes as if he couldn’t really be bothered. I did notice that he wore gold and opal cuff links, the fiery opals catching the remnants of the sunlight.
“Congratulations on the wedding,” I said.
Jackie threw an arm around Nicole and pulled her close. “We’re so proud of her.”
“Where’s the lucky groom?” Divya asked.
“Mark has him working late,” Jackie said.
“Ellie told me that he works for you,” I said to Mark.
“That’s right. I have a Wall Street investment firm. You’ve probably heard of it. Crompton and Associates?”
I hadn’t. “Sure. Evan probably has, too. He worked in the Manhattan financial world at one time.”
Evan, whose attention had been on the crowd, suddenly dropped back into our conversation. Sort of.
“Heard of what?” he asked.
“Crompton and Associates,” Mark repeated.
Evan shook his head. “Nope. Never heard of it.”
Mark seemed annoyed but went on. “We do business with all the big firms in New York and internationally. Last count, twenty-two different countries.”
“And he makes Robert work too hard,” Jackie said.
“If he’s going to learn the business, he has to be there.”
Jackie gave him a soft punch on the arm. “But this is your daughter’s party. He should be here.”
“He just called,” Nicole said. “He’s on the expressway and making good time. Should be here in an hour or so.”
“That’s wonderful,” Jackie said. “He’ll at least make it for part of the reception.”
“I hope he got those documents he was working on squared away,” Mark said. “I better call him.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and walked away, out toward the garden.
No good-bye. No “Excuse me a sec.” No “Nice to meet you.” I got the impression that in his head business trumped people.
A young woman walked up. Rich black hair that hung to her midback, white slacks, and a dark green silk blouse that deepened her intensely green eyes. She was so striking even Evan seemed slightly dazed, not a condition I often see.
“This is Ashley,” Nicole said. “My best friend and maid of honor. This is Hank, Grandma’s doctor. And his brother, Evan.”
Evan found his voice. “Evan R. Lawson, CFO of HankMed.”
“And this beautiful lady is Divya, Hank’s PA,” Nicole continued.
“Nice to meet all of you,” Ashley said. “Ellie’s told us all about you and what you guys do for her.”
“We try,” I said. “I understand you and Nicole are staying here until the wedding.”
She hooked her arm with Nicole’s. “It’s going to be like two weeks of partying.”
A waiter flowed by, stopping to offer mini crab cakes. This time I took one. Evan took three.
Nicole declined, saying, “I’ve got to lose some weight before the wedding.”
She didn’t.
“Go see my guy,” Ashley said. “Remember him?”
“That nutritionist?” Nicole asked.
“Every time I need to drop a few. You know how well it works.”
“Cool. Can you get me in?”
“No problem.”
“Who is this guy?” I asked.
“Dr. Julian Morelli. He’s like so beautiful.”
I laughed. “Beautiful?”
Ashley laughed. “Okay. Hot.”
“How does he help you lose weight?” I asked.
“Mostly by encouraging exercise and a better diet. And he mixes up these special herbs and vitamins.”
A commonsense hint: Beware of anyone who sells health products that they make themselves. The FDA, for all its warts, does a good job of keeping some very bad stuff off the US market. And nutritional products, now called “nutraceuticals,” a new buzzword that makes them sound medicinal, aren’t scrutinized by anyone. The herbs and spices these folks cook up could contain arsenic or almost any other toxin. They could’ve been mixed up in a rusty bucket or a dirty cat box in someone’s garage. You just never know.
“What kinds of herbs?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Ashley said. “He does blood tests to see what’s out of balance and then like puts together a custom mixture to fix it.”
“I see.”
“All I know is that they work. They give you energy and kill your appetite, and like the pounds literally melt away.”
“That’s what I need,” Nicole said.
I started to say that she didn’t need to lose weight. That magazine models and Hollywood stars shouldn’t be the arbiters of beauty. That she should be careful of homemade concoctions. Instead I decided that talking shop at Nicole’s party or offering medical advice to someone who wasn’t one of my patients might not be the best idea.
Besides, I was distracted.
Through the open doors I saw Jill and Ellie come down the stairs and go into the great room. I excused myself and headed their way.
Chapter 7
I hugged Ellie and then Jill, giving her a peck on the cheek.
“When did you get here?” I asked Jill.
“A few minutes ago. Ellie was showing me her latest redecorating projects. The drawing room and a couple of the upstairs suites.”
“Small stuff,” Ellie said. “Not moving any walls this time.” She laughed.
Ellie always had some construction project going. Like the partially complete dance floor out by the gardens. She could never leave things static; instead she was constantly looking for change. I could think of only a couple of times that I had been here when there weren’t workers hammering away at something.
“The party is great,” I said.
“Isn’t it?” Ellie scanned the room. “All these wonderful young people. So much energy and laughter. Makes me feel young again.” She looked back at me. “Did you meet Ni
cole?”
“Yes. She’s almost as pretty as you.”
“Liar.”
“Isn’t that what you pay me for?”
She nudged Jill. “Watch out for him. He’s a charmer.”
“I know.”
“How are you doing?” I asked Ellie.
“Never better. But it helps knowing you’re here in case I get my flutters.” She flashed a mischievous smile. “That’s what I pay you for.” Another laugh and then she excused herself to “go mingle with the young folks.”
“How’d your meeting go?” I asked Jill.
“Boring. A rep from one of our surgical-equipment suppliers wanted to jack up his prices, so I told him we’d take our business elsewhere. He backed down.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Yeah. You’re good at your job.”
“Not that I’m stubborn?”
“No comment.”
“Chicken?”
“Absolutely.”
We exchanged our champagne glasses for fresh ones and walked outside. The ocean was flat and the onshore breeze felt clean and cool.
I was going to introduce Jill to Nicole but didn’t see her. Instead we took the steps that led from the patio down to the massive gardens that seemed to extend to the horizon. We decided to walk out to the end of Ellie’s property. No small hike. Took a good fifteen minutes. We stood in the soft sand and watched the pale blue evening sky fade to a rich cobalt blue, unmasking hundreds of stars. I had one arm around Jill, her head resting against my shoulder. Not a single word passed between us. Every day should end like this.
Once the sky darkened, we made our way back toward the house, this time weaving through Ellie’s massive garden. Clusters and rows of trees, sculpted hedges, and stone walls partitioned the garden into square, rectangular, even circular areas. Several sections exploded with roses and other flowering plants, their aromas dense in the night air. A few held marble fountains and sitting areas. One large rectangular section was filled with sculptures, a couple as tall as fifteen feet. Reminded me of the Louvre.
We got lost a couple of times and laughed about being like Alice in the maze of the Queen of Hearts. Fortunately, we didn’t run across a Mad Hatter, a White Rabbit, a Dormouse, or anyone wanting our heads, but just before we reached the patio, we did see Nicole. She stood near an evergreen shrub at the garden’s edge, staring skyward. I glanced up, thinking she must be looking at the moon or maybe a shooting star. No moon, only a scattering of stars, none of them moving.
