High October

by Elena Graf

  “We all need companionship.” Maggie tried to sound vague.

  “Yes, everyone needs someone special.” Ellie glanced around the little office space. Liz had brought up a folding worktable from the basement, a retired office chair and a two-drawer file cabinet. “Will this be your office now?”

  “For the moment,” said Maggie.

  “You could use something on the walls to cheer it up. It’s very bare.”

  “Yes, maybe I’ll enlarge some of the photographs I took in Acadia.”

  “Scenes of the outdoors would be nice.” Ellie, nodded in approval. “Do you have any laundry for me to do?”

  The laundry was now intermingled in the hamper in the master bath.

  “Ellie, I don’t need you to do my laundry. I can take it out of the hamper.”

  “No, problem. I can throw it in with Liz’s clothes.”

  “If it’s not too much trouble. Thank you. Let me know when it’s done, and I’ll sort it.”

  “No need. I’ll sort it. I can tell the difference.” Of course, anyone could tell Liz’s simple cotton underwear from Maggie’s lace panties and bras.

  After she left, Maggie realized that apart from being engaged in a movie or having sex, the conversation with Ellie had been the first time she’d forgotten the dread that now hung over her life and occupied her every waking moment. She picked up her phone and called Tony.

  A mellow baritone answered the ring. “Hello, Stranger. Are you back in New York?”

  “Nope. Still in Maine. Something came up to hold me here.”

  “Oh, I bet I know what.” Maggie could hear the smile in Tony’s voice, almost a giggle just below the surface.

  She lowered her voice, even though she knew Ellie was downstairs and couldn’t possibly hear. “I bet you don’t, but what you suspect, also happened.”

  “Aha! I knew it! Congratulations, girlie. Liz is quite a catch. Tell me everything!”

  “I’m no kiss and tell. Sorry, Tony.”

  “I bet you are, and I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

  “How about lunch at that place you like? Afterward, we can go to the shops. I need more warm clothes.”

  “Are you moving in up there?”

  Maggie laughed to deflect the question. “I’ll tell you later.”

  ***

  The Omelet Mill was closed on Tuesdays, so Tony recommended a more upscale restaurant called The Gypsy Queen. “As the name suggests,” Tony explained, holding his open hands near his face and wiggling his eyebrows, “It is très gay.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “The food is good. I always appreciate good food. Hint. Hint. I’m angling for another invitation to your house for dinner.”

  “You could invite us to your place, you know.”

  After a brief pause, Tony said, “We don’t have enough room in the condo to entertain, although Freddie’s not a bad cook when he puts his mind to it.”

  There was a short wait for a table because the last of the “leaf peepers” were still in town. Within a week, Webhanet’s population would be reduced by half. “I can’t wait for them all to leave, so we can have our town back,” Tony grumbled as the waitress finally led them to a table.

  They ordered iced tea and settled down to read the menu. Tony recommended the Hungarian mushroom soup. “The chef’s mother is Hungarian, and it’s supposed to be totally authentic. The haddock sandwich is also good.”

  They both ordered the Hungarian mushroom soup and decided to spilt a fish sandwich.

  “This is delicious,” said Maggie after she tasted the tangy soup. “I think you may have better restaurants up here than we have in New York.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you have more variety, but Maine’s become a foodie’s paradise. Great chefs. Amazing local ingredients. You won’t go hungry…Now that you’ve moved up here.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Actions speak louder than words, and now that you’ve conquered the warrior queen, how can you bear to go home?” He leaned forward and spoke in a confidential voice. “Was it as good as everyone says it is?”

  “Was what good?” asked Maggie, playing dumb.

  “The sex, Maggie! How was the sex?”

  “You think I’d tell you? And who’s everyone?”

  Tony raised his hands and mimed exaggerated ignorance. “I can’t really say.”

  “You’re full of it.”

  “Of course.” He wiggled his brows Groucho Marx-style again. “But you do have the look of a woman who’s been getting great sex.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes.

  “Well, you do. And you haven’t gone back to New York yet, so you must want to stay. Just move in with her. She invited you to stay. I’m a witness.”

  “I’m staying for the time being, until some things get sorted out.”

  “I’m telling you, Maggie, just rent the damn place in the Village. Or sell it. You could get a fortune for it.”

  Maggie’s mind balked at the thought of giving up her snug little apartment. It had been her safe haven after the sale of the house in Connecticut. She’d decorated the apartment in an avant-garde style in a deliberate rebuke to the expectations of her Connecticut friends, who were all addicted to HGTV.

  “I may need a fortune, so I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Tony looked up from his soup. “Why?” His dark brows came together in a puzzled frown.

  Maggie lowered her voice. “I might have some big medical bills on the way.”

  “Oh, no. I’m sorry. What’s wrong?”

  “Liz found a lump in my breast.” There. She’d finally told someone.

  “Oh, my God! No! That’s horrible!” For once, Tony’s reaction didn’t seem over the top.

  Maggie nodded. “It is horrible, and I’m scared to death.”

  Tony reached across the table and took her hand. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Maggie swallowed hard in the hope of blocking the tears, but her eyes filled anyway. She dabbed them with her napkin and left some mascara on the cloth. “Liz did the biopsy on Monday. We should know more in a few days.”

  “If it’s any consolation, you couldn’t find a better doctor than Liz. She’s famous for that, you know.”

  “So, I’m discovering. But now, it’s complicated because we’re lovers, not just friends.”

  “Why should that matter?” Tony tilted his head and frowned.

  “Medical ethics, apparently.”

  “Don’t worry. Liz will figure it out. She knows a lot of people.”

  “Yes, and everyone is an ex.”

  Tony laughed. “So, you’ve met Alyson. Yes, she’s quite something. That was a close call.”

  “You didn’t approve?”

  Tony shook his head. “It would have never worked. Despite her feminine looks, personality-wise, Alyson is as butch as they come. They were too much alike. And I’m not sure Liz was ready to settle down again. She and Jenny have a messy, complicated relationship.”

  “I’ve heard. And I’ve met Jenny.”

  Tony finished his soup and pushed away the bowl. “At least, you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  ***

  Maggie managed to get home in time to start dinner, although she hated to mess up the pristine kitchen Ellie had just cleaned. When Ellie moved upstairs to clean the bedroom, Maggie got her chicken and leek stew started.

  She’d always associated stews with fall, a dish to celebrate the change of seasons. In New York, the transition was so gradual. The heat of summer slowly gave way to cooler temperatures. The leaves in Washington Square Park turned a dingy yellow and drifted to the ground. In Maine, the air suddenly became crisp. The leaves turned from deep green into a riot of brilliant colors. In the air was the comforting scent of woo
d smoke. As Liz had said, High October was spectacular.

  Although the day had been warm, the weather service predicted a chilly evening and warned about the possibility of a hard frost. It had been years since Maggie had lived in a suburban house and needed to worry about bringing in houseplants. She’d nearly forgotten what a big event the first real frost of the season could be.

  When Liz came home, she barely gave Maggie a kiss. “I’ve got to cover my tomatoes!” She ran upstairs, taking the steps by twos. Moments later, she returned in jeans and a hoodie and headed straight out to the garden. Maggie watched from the kitchen window as Liz draped plastic sheets over the tomatoes. She secured the plastic around the perimeter with rocks. In all, the rescue operation took a little over fifteen minutes. Liz was back in the house in time to pay Ellie. She always paid cash to spare her housekeeper the trouble of cashing a check.

  When she returned to the kitchen, she kissed Maggie and apologized for her abrupt entrance. “How was your day?”

  “I went to lunch with Tony.”

  “That’s good. I should introduce you to more of my friends.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I don’t think Alyson and I are ever going to be tight.”

  Liz laughed. “I never thought so, but I do have some friends who have never been in my bed,” said Liz, putting her arms around her. “Maybe we should throw a little ‘welcome Maggie to Maine’ dinner party.”

  “Let’s wait for the results of the biopsy, if you don’t mind.”

  When Liz tensed, Maggie instantly knew she was holding something back. She could practically hear the gears turning in Liz’s brain as she tried to find the best way to word what she had to say. “One came today. I sent it to that lab because they’re so fast.”

  Maggie took a deep breath. “And…?”

  “And I told you, I wouldn’t discuss it until I read both reports.”

  “Liz, that’s not fair. If you’re going to keep things from me, I’m going to have to find another doctor.”

  “Be patient, Maggie.” Liz tightened her embrace. “I want to get all the data and evaluate it, so I can give you the best advice possible.”

  Maggie eased herself out of Liz’s arms so she could look at her face. “Liz, please. What did it say?”

  “Well, it’s not the best news, but not the worst either.”

  “And that means what?”

  “It is cancer, but very treatable. I should get the other report very soon. Then I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

  Maggie swallowed hard, trying to stop the tears. She wanted Liz to see that she could cope, but the sob escaped anyway. Liz pulled her close. “Oh, Maggie, I’m so sorry.”

  Chapter 22

  Liz stared at the screen until her eyes watered and her vision blurred. She blinked, hoping the offending numbers would change, but they were still the same. She felt a blunt pain in her throat exactly like when she’d found the lump.

  She exhaled a deep sigh and sent the report to the printer to make a copy for Maggie’s file. Then she printed a second copy and put it in her pocket. She’d use it later to explain the results to Maggie.

  The news wasn’t all bad. Maggie’s Ki-67 was relatively low, so the cancer was slow growing. Technically, it fell into the Luminal A category, which meant targeted endocrine therapy would be effective, and Maggie could probably skip chemo. Liz forwarded the report to Beverly Birnbaum, the chief of oncology at Yale-New Haven, through the secure portal with a note saying she’d call in the morning.

  She closed her laptop and checked the time. Three o’clock. She picked up her cellphone and found Maggie in her favorites. As the call rang on the other end, Liz imagined how she would break the news.

  “Well, hello there, Dr. Stolz. You don’t usually call me from the office.”

  “I’m on official business.”

  “You are?” Maggie’s voice was full of playful doubt.

  “Yes, I hope you haven’t started dinner yet because I want to take you out to celebrate the good news.” Liz bit her lip, hoping she didn’t sound too optimistic, and Maggie would get the wrong idea.

  “You got the other pathology report,” Maggie guessed correctly. Liz could hear the sharp intake of air, a little gasp to brace for bad news.

  Liz spoke in her usual medical tone to calm her. “Yes, I just got the report on the sample I sent to the lab I really trust. It’s top-notch, but really slow. In fact, I’m surprised it came back so fast.”

  “What’s the verdict?”

  “It agrees with the other report. But let’s have a really nice dinner at a very special place I know. Then we’ll have an after-dinner cognac, and I’ll explain it all to you. Deal?”

  “You’re going to feed me a delicious dinner and then ply me with alcohol to deliver your bad news?”

  “I told you it’s good news. It’s all in the interpretation. Now, put on something nice. This is a classy place. Five diamonds, as fitting for my best girl.”

  “I’d better be your only girl.” The warning note in Maggie’s voice was playful, but Liz heard the slight edge.

  “You are. Scout’s honor.”

  “Liz, you were never a girl scout.”

  Liz laughed. “No, but it sounds good. I’ll make the reservation for six. I’ll come home first, so we can take the Audi.”

  “Good. That means I can wear a dress.”

  Liz imagined Maggie in one of her little black dresses. “Yes, please. You look very sexy in a dress.”

  “Dr. Stolz, can your staff hear you?”

  “No, I’m alone in my office. My door is closed.”

  “Good. Then they won’t hear you gasp when I say, I like to wear dresses because I feel more open to you.” Maggie adjusted her voice to be low and sexy. “… It makes me think about how much I like to feel you inside me. Deep inside...”

  Liz felt a quick flush of arousal. She closed her eyes to concentrate the feeling. “Maggie, please. Don’t torture me. I have to work for another hour.”

  “Okay. No phone sex in the office. I’ll be ready when you get here.”

  “To go to dinner, right?”

  Maggie laughed. “You’ll see.” Liz could practically see her wink. “Yes, to go to dinner, but that doesn’t let you off the hook for later.”

  After she ended the call, Liz took a minute to gather her forces before seeing her next patient. Her genitals had responded to Maggie’s suggestions with heightened sensitivity even though she knew it was only a tease. Maggie’s seductive voice could drive her crazy. To tamp down the desire, Liz reviewed her next patient’s file before heading to the examination room.

  ***

  They ordered the seasonal tasting menu which included a demitasse of wild mushroom soup, venison sliders, haddock ceviche, a selection of raw and grilled oysters and roasted beet salad. Each tasting was paired with a wine. The entrée was local pork tenderloin medallions and spiced apples. They passed on the dessert, real Indian pudding, and ordered cognac instead.

  Liz leaned forward to speak in a confidential tone. “Professor Krusick, you look especially fetching tonight.”

  “You’re just buttering me up for your bad news.” Maggie glanced away and took a sip of cognac.

  Liz frowned. “You keep expecting bad news.”

  “Isn’t cancer always bad news? Well, go ahead. All that alcohol has gone to my head. I won’t feel a thing.”

  Liz collected her thoughts and cleared her throat before delivering her little speech. “Your tumor is slow growing. It’s estrogen sensitive, so it should respond to endocrine-based treatments. It might also be responsive to Herceptin, but we need to wait for the results of the FISH test. You probably won’t need chemo, but I sent the report to the chief of oncology at Yale. Bev Birnbaum is a brilliant woman. I trust her implicitly. I’m ninety-nine, point nine percent sure, she won�
��t recommend chemo.”

  “But you will take out the lump.”

  “Yes, and if you agree to be treated at Yale, I’ll call Ellen Connelly in the morning. She trained under me, and she’s an excellent breast surgeon.”

  Maggie looked at her intently. “I want you to do the operation.”

  Liz shook her head. “You don’t really, and even if we were just friends and not lovers, I wouldn’t agree.”

  “You’re supposed to be the best.”

  “There are other surgeons who are just as good as I am, and a lumpectomy is a pretty simple procedure.”

  “Then why won’t you do it?” Maggie looked determined. Her tone was insistent.

  Liz wondered how she could make her understand. At this point, it went beyond medical ethics, which were an abstraction, in any case. Liz tried to explain in the most direct, visceral terms. “Maggie, I love your body like it’s my own. Cutting your breast would be like cutting my own flesh.”

  “You had no trouble stabbing me with that needle.”

  “That was different. And it’s not true that I ‘had no trouble.’ I was shaky because it was you and not some anonymous patient. You don’t want a shaky surgeon, do you?” Liz picked up her butter knife and mimed a shaky hand holding a scalpel.

  “I get the point.”

  Liz put down the knife.

  The discs on Maggie’s gold bracelet tinkled softly as she moved her hand across the table cloth and took Liz’s. “I just realized how hard this is for you.”

  “It’s not hard,” protested Liz.

  “Oh, Liz, I’m sure you can fool a lot of people, but you can’t fool me. You’re trying to be so professional and strong, but inside, it’s got to be really difficult.”

  Liz succeeded in contorting her mouth into a defective smile. “We both need to be strong to get through this.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the waiter hovering. She released Maggie’s hand and motioned for him to come forward.

  ***

  Liz was brushing her teeth when she heard Maggie’s phone ring. Who could be calling at that hour? It was after ten.