by Elena Graf
“I’m sorry, Honey. I know I promised to call you, but things got so busy.”
The caller on the other end was speaking. Liz rinsed out her toothbrush and tried to ignore Maggie’s voice in the other room. But Maggie’s voice was distinctive. From her theatrical training, she had perfect elocution that was hard to ignore, and her voice carried. “I’m staying here for a while. Liz has been a very good friend. It’s been a tough time.”
It was quiet for a moment while Maggie listened. Then she said, “No, Tom’s out of the picture. Let’s just say, he took an unhealthy interest in one of his female students.”
Liz sympathized. That had to be so difficult to admit. She began to feel guilty about eavesdropping, so she put on her pajamas and headed downstairs. She soon had company. Maggie, still on the phone, had followed her. Instead of muting the call, Maggie held the phone against her hip to muffle the mic.
“It’s Sophia. I told her about the lump. Would you please explain the situation to her? You two can talk doctor talk together.”
Liz sighed in exasperation, but she took the phone. “Hello, Sophia,” she said warmly. “How are you?”
“I was better before Mom told me about the lump. What’s going on?’
Liz put the phone on speaker, so Maggie could hear both ends of the conversation. “The tumor is small, less than two centimeters. It’s Luminal A.” Liz recited the data on the report from memory, surprised as always that such information lodged in her brain, and she could report it verbatim afterward. She spoke in the sort of neutral voice she would always use with a colleague, but she sensed the growing anxiety on the other end of the call.
Liz drew breath and paused for questions. When there were none, she continued. “I’ve asked the chief of oncology at Yale-New Haven to review the report and give me her opinion. I’ve suggested to your mother that she go to Yale for both the surgery and the oncology consult.”
“Why not Sloan-Kettering? It’s closer to home for Mom.”
Liz made an effort to be patient. After all, it was a good question, and this was Maggie’s daughter. “Sloan is a great cancer center, but it’s also enormous and the strong focus on research means patients often get lost in the system. Don’t get me wrong. They do very good work there, but I know the people at Yale because I used to work with them.”
“Honey, I told Liz I’d go to Yale if she thinks that’s the right thing.”
There was a sigh with a hint of exasperation through the speaker. “Dr. Stolz, would you mind if I spoke to my mother alone?”
“Of course, not. And please…call me Liz, everyone does.”
“Thanks, Dr. Stolz… I mean, Liz.”
“Would you like me to send you a copy of the report? I can send an encrypted email. Your mother will call you with the key.”
“Yes, that would be great.”
“Your mother will also give you my phone number and email address. Feel free to call me anytime.”
Liz handed the phone back to Maggie, who mouthed “thanks.” Liz shrugged and headed to the media room. She opened the liquor cabinet and poured herself a glass of cognac. In the face of so many things she couldn’t control, she felt the need for something orderly. She loaded a CD of Faure’s “Pavane.” The soothing music worked its magic, and she soon felt much calmer.
Eventually, Maggie wandered into the room. “I thought I might find you in here.”
Liz turned down the music. “All the good liquor is here in the cabinet, in case you ever need it. Cognac?”
Maggie shook her head. “No, thank you. I think I’ve had enough alcohol for tonight.” She sat down beside Liz on the sofa. From her frown, Liz surmised the remainder of the conversation had not gone well, but she decided not to pry and sipped her cognac in silence.
“She can be so stubborn sometimes,” Maggie finally said. “She’s always been terrified that something will happen to me, and I’ll suddenly disappear, so she wants me where she can see me.” Maggie gave Liz’s glass a covetous look. “As a matter of fact, I think I will take you up on that cognac.”
Liz got up to pour it.
“Sophia wants me to go to Baylor for treatment.”
“Baylor! No disrespect to Sophia, but there are much better places. Will you go?”
“No, of course not. The girl’s been an oncology resident for five minutes and thinks she knows everything.”
“Unfortunately, arrogance is a common quality of young physicians. They have yet to be humbled by their own ignorance.”
“In Sophia’s case, it’s bravado. She’s so unsure of herself.” Maggie took a sip of cognac. “After I said I wouldn’t go to Baylor, she pushed for Sloan-Kettering.”
Liz shrugged. “Sloan is a very good cancer hospital. I won’t deny it.”
“But you want me to go to Yale.”
“I have some influence at Yale because I worked there. The health care system today is like a maze that no one knows how to navigate, not even doctors. The only way to get good care is for someone knowledgeable to advocate for you. I can do that for you at Yale.”
“You say you trust these people.”
“I do, and I know their work. I’ve seen it firsthand. If the situation were reversed, I’d go to Yale.”
“That’s recommendation enough for me.” Maggie drained the last of her brandy. She took Liz’s empty glass out of her hand. “I’ll rinse these out and wash them in the morning.”
Liz followed Maggie into the kitchen. “We should go to bed. It’s almost midnight, and I have office hours in the morning.”
While Maggie carefully rinsed out the glasses in the kitchen sink, Liz leaned her chin on her shoulder and put her arms around her waist.
“I just want you to hold me tonight,” said Maggie with a sigh.
“I can do that.”
“Liz, you’re so solid. Why did I ever give you up?”
“I don’t know. Why did you?”
“I don’t know either, but I’m not making that mistake again.”
Chapter 23
AS Liz sped down the highway, the rain beat steadily on the windshield. Although the wipers were going full tilt, the visibility was poor. Liz’s eyes remained carefully trained on the road ahead. In the beginning, the speed at which Liz drove frightened Maggie. Now, she knew that Liz was a careful driver and hardly noticed anymore.
“If you’re uncomfortable staying with Jenny, we can stay in a hotel,” Liz said. “I’m sure I can still get reservations. Maybe I can get one of those suites with a kitchen.”
“It’s too expensive.”
“I don’t mind spending the money.”
Maggie wasn’t sure why Liz was bringing this up again. They had discussed where they would stay during Maggie’s surgery and recovery and had agreed that Jenny’s house would be more comfortable than a hotel. It was close to New Haven without being in the city. While Jenny was at work, they would have the run of the place. And after all, it was Liz’s house too.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” said Maggie, unwilling to discuss it again, but she certainly didn’t look forward to spending a week with Liz’s ex, especially not after Jenny’s unpleasant visit in September.
“You don’t sound like you’re sure.” Liz glanced in the rear-view mirror as she cut into traffic for the merge onto I91.
“It’s not always easy being around Jenny. Sometimes, she acts like she owns you.” Maggie bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to say so much.
“Believe me. That’s only since you’ve come on the scene. Weird.”
“This is what we planned. It will be fine.”
“I’ll do my best to keep Jenny in line, but if it gets uncomfortable for you for any reason, we’re going to a hotel. You have enough to worry about, and so do I.”
Liz took back roads to avoid the traffic in New Haven. As they passed small farms and
acres of undeveloped land, Maggie was surprised to see this part of Connecticut was still so rural. Where she had lived with Barry to be near his job, it had been so congested.
“We’re almost there.” Liz obviously meant to sound encouraging, but it had the opposite effect. The closer they came to their destination, the higher Maggie’s anxiety level rose.
Finally, they turned into a long drive leading to a colonial-style house right on the waterfront. Maggie just stared. “This place is enormous. Oh, my God! That view!”
“Now, you see why we didn’t want to sell when I decided to move to Maine. The trouble is, Jenny may never be able to get the money together to buy me out, so I may be part owner forever.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” Maggie tried to sound as neutral as possible. It definitely bothered her.
Liz took their bags out of the backseat. “It’s just money. Stop worrying. It has nothing to do with us.” But Maggie wasn’t so sure.
Liz brought the bags in. “I’ll bring them up later. First, let me give you the nickel tour.”
Although it was a dreary day, the interior of the house was painted and furnished in light colors, which made it look bright and sun splashed. The open floor plan allowed the rooms to merge into one another. The cook could easily talk to guests in the dining room, the living room or the library. The entire wall on the waterfront side of the first floor was glass—windows and French doors. It provided a picture-perfect view of Long Island Sound, which today looked like a stormy watercolor seascape. Maggie instantly saw the inspiration for the wall of glass in Liz’s bedroom. She was stunned by the size of the house and the sheer beauty of the view.
“How could you bear to leave this place?”
“The house and the location are great, but the neighbors are as stuck up as they come…when they’re here. Most of the houses along the water are just weekend and summer homes for people who are obscenely rich.” Liz headed toward the stairs. “Come on. Let me show you where our room is.”
Although Maggie offered to help, Liz carried all the bags upstairs.
“Jenny has the room with the best view, of course, but I think you’ll be very comfortable in this room. I’ll leave you to unpack while I see what’s in the refrigerator.”
A few minutes later, Liz returned, bringing up the garment bag. “As I suspected, the cupboard is bare. Would you mind if I ran down to the supermarket to pick up a few things? Cooking is the least I can do while Jenny is putting us up.”
“I can cook.”
“No. You are the patient, and you will follow doctor’s orders. That means I’m cooking tonight.” Liz gave her quick kiss. “I’ll only be gone a short time. Maybe you should get some rest.”
The fatigue was nearly overwhelming after the long drive and the stress of anticipating her visit with the surgeon in the morning, but before Maggie lay down, she unpacked for both of them. She carefully hung Liz’s suits and dress blouses in the closet. She arranged their underwear and casual clothes in the empty drawers in the dresser.
When everything was put away, she turned off the light and lay down on the enormous mahogany four-poster. As she adjusted the pillow, she noticed Liz’s mark carved into one of the head posts, which meant that Liz had built it. Maggie was surprised that Liz would leave it behind. She took such pride in her work and was so protective of the furniture she built.
It was chilly and damp because of all the rain, so Maggie pulled up the afghan at the foot of the bed. She was dozing lightly when she heard a female voice calling though the house. “Hello? Hello? Liz! Where are you?”
The door opened and Jenny poked her head in. “Oh, Maggie, you’re resting. Sorry to disturb you.”
“No, it’s all right.” Maggie sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. “Come in.”
Jenny came in and sat down on the bed. “Maggie, I’m so sorry. It’s nice to see you again…despite the circumstances. Welcome.”
Maggie didn’t know how to respond to this warm reception. She managed a theatrical smile. “Thank you for letting us stay with you.”
“Mi casa es su casa.” Jenny’s Spanish accent was surprisingly good. “Actually, it’s Liz’s house too, but let’s not get technical.” Jenny looked around. She glanced at the clothes hanging in the open closet. “Where’s Liz?”
“At the supermarket, getting dinner makings.”
“Oh, I should have guessed. I thought we’d go out to dinner, but the truth is, I miss her cooking. She usually got home earlier because she’d operate at the crack of dawn and see patients in the early afternoon. I loved to come home to those delicious smells from the kitchen. Heavenly, actually. People always assumed I was the nurturing one because of my specialty, but it’s Liz. She’s very maternal. You should see her with kids.”
Maggie, who never woke up well, was overwhelmed with this blast of information.
Jenny patted her hand. “I’m sorry I interrupted your nap. I should let you rest.”
“I dozed a little. I should get up.”
“Come down and join me for a drink. Martini?”
“Wine, I think. Except not…”
Jenny laughed. “Yes, Liz told me the Châteauneuf was too much for you. Not everyone appreciates it. Don’t worry. I have some California wines. Come on. It will drive Liz crazy to come home and find us talking about her.”
They settled in the library. The wine Jenny selected for her, a pinot noir, was perfect. They sat side by side on a sofa facing the sound.
“It’s so beautiful here.”
“Isn’t it? That’s why I’m glad Liz hasn’t forced me out. If I could afford it, I would stay here forever.”
“Thanks again for letting us stay while I have my surgery.”
Jenny settled back into the corner of the couch and gave Maggie a critical look. “Don’t worry. A lumpectomy is a pretty simple procedure. I hear Liz has you booked in with Ellen Connelly for tomorrow morning. Liz trained her, so you might have to put up with a little hero worship.”
“I don’t care as long as she’s a good surgeon.”
“No one better, except Liz herself. And Bev Birnbaum is great too. You’ll love her. Straight talker. She’ll let you know exactly what she thinks.”
“Liz said she probably won’t recommend chemo.”
“Probably not. I saw your labs.”
“Liz sent them to you?” Maggie felt uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure she wanted Jenny knowing so much about her.
Jenny smiled, obviously to reassure her. “She often asks my opinion about her breast cases because of the hormone component. That’s a subspecialty of mine. I’m sorry. Didn’t she ask you if it was all right?”
“No,” said Maggie, frowning. “She didn’t.”
Jenny looked nonplussed for a moment. “Technically, it’s not a HIPAA violation because she was consulting me as another physician, but as a personal matter, she should have asked your permission.” Jenny patted her hand. “Don’t worry. It’s all in the family.” That remark only made Maggie more uncomfortable.
A few minutes later, Liz came through the door. Jenny got up and Maggie followed her into the kitchen.
Liz was busily unpacking the groceries. Jenny kissed her. “Welcome home, Sweetie. How about a martini?”
“Thank you, but I won’t sit with you. I need to get dinner going.”
Jenny began mixing the martinis. “How was your trip?”
“Not bad, considering the weather.”
“I see the makings of chicken piccata,” observed Jenny, watching Liz lay out the ingredients.
“I found the capers you like. The very tiny ones.” Liz began beating the chicken breasts thin with a meat mallet.
“You’re so sweet to look for them for me.” Jenny put her arm around Liz’s waist and gave her another kiss.
“I have my moments.” Liz dipped the cutlet
s in beaten egg and dredged them in seasoned flour.
Maggie, relegated to the role of bystander, asked, “Can I help with something?”
Jenny gave Maggie a dismissive glance. “No, sit down. We’ve got it covered. Would you like some cheese and crackers to munch on before dinner? Let me get you something.”
Maggie sat on a stool at the kitchen island, nibbling on cheese and crackers while Liz prepared the meal.
“Has Liz made this for you before?” asked Jenny. “Her piccata is her pièce de résistance!”
“Stop, Jenny. It’s not that special.”
“You see, Maggie? Dr. Stolz is occasionally capable of modesty.”
“Knock it off, or you can cook for yourself, and we’ll go out.”
“All right,” said Jenny, slinking away. “I’ll behave.”
Maggie listened to them banter and realized they were like a long-married couple. She believed Liz when she said that their sexual relationship was in the past, but in some ways, sex was the least of it. They had an easy, uncomplicated intimacy. Maggie envied them all those years of sharing milestones as well as the small moments of sorrow and joy that together make a life. Forty years of separation could never be made up in this lifetime. No matter what her relationship with Liz became, they could never reclaim all those lost years.
Chapter 24
Ellen Connelly was one of those pale-haired, freckled women with hazel eyes whose features are indistinct even with makeup. Such people can look wholesome or bland, depending on the tastes of the beholder.
Liz wondered why she was thinking about her protégée’s looks instead of helping Maggie provide an accurate medical history. Maggie had stumbled a few times trying to answer Ellen’s rapid-fire questions, and Liz had jumped in to provide the information. Because Ellen had worked under her, it would be so easy to dominate the consultation, but Liz wanted Maggie to take the lead in directing her treatment.
Ellen was close to the end of the patient interview sheet. Liz knew she was winding down because she had designed the questionnaire when she was at Yale.
