“Yes, everyone has gone for the day,” Mrs. Schulman said. “I locked up as I usually do.”
“That’s good,” Angelo said, “because we want you to go back inside. We’re interested in some of the doctor’s records.”
“What records?” Mrs. Schulman asked.
“I’ll tell you when we get inside,” Angelo said. “But before we go I want you to know that if you decide to do anything foolish, it’d be the last foolish thing you do. Do I make myself clear?”
“Quite clear,” Mrs. Schulman said, regaining some of her composure.
“This isn’t a big deal,” Angelo added. “I mean, we’re civilized people.”
“I understand,” Mrs. Schulman said.
“Okay! Let’s go,” Angelo said, and he opened his door.
“Hello, Miss Montgomery,” George said. George was one of the doormen at Laurie’s parents’ apartment house. He’d been there for decades. He looked sixty but he was actually seventy-two. He liked to tell Laurie that he’d been the one to open the cab door the day her mother had brought Laurie home from the hospital just days after her birth.
After a brief chat with George, Laurie went on up to her parents’. So many memories! Even the smell of the place was familiar. But more than anything, the apartment reminded her of that awful day she’d found her brother. She’d almost wished her parents had moved after the tragedy, just so she wouldn’t have to be constantly reminded of her brother’s overdose.
“Hello, dear!” her mother crooned as she let Laurie into the foyer. Dorothy Montgomery bent forward and offered her daughter a cheek. She smelled of expensive perfume. Her silver-gray hair was cut short in a style that was making the covers of women’s fashion magazines lately. Dorothy was a petite, vibrant woman in her mid-sixties who looked younger than her years, thanks to a second face-lift.
As Dorothy took Laurie’s coat, she cast a critical eye over her daughter’s attire. “I see you didn’t wear the wool suit I bought for you.”
“No, Mother, I did not,” Laurie said. She closed her eyes, hoping her mother wouldn’t start in on her this early.
“At least you could have worn a dress.”
Laurie refrained from responding. She’d chosen a jacquard blouse embellished with mock jewels and a pair of wool pants that she’d gotten from a mail order catalogue. An hour earlier she’d thought it was one of her best outfits. Now she wasn’t so sure.
“No matter,” Dorothy said after hanging up Laurie’s coat. “Come on, I want you to meet everyone, especially Dr. Scheffield, our guest of honor.”
Dorothy led Laurie into the formal living room, a room reserved exclusively for entertaining. There were eight people in the room, each balancing a drink in one hand and a canapé in the other. Laurie recognized most of these guests, four married couples who’d been friends of her parents for years. Three of the men were physicians, the other a banker. Like her own mother, the wives weren’t career women. They devoted their time to charities just as her mother did.
After some small talk, Dorothy dragged Laurie down the hall to the library where Sheldon Montgomery was showing Jordan Scheffield some rare medical textbooks.
“Sheldon, introduce your daughter to Dr. Scheffield,” Dorothy commanded, interrupting her husband in midsentence.
Both men looked up from a book in Sheldon’s hands. Laurie’s gaze went from her father’s dour aristocratic face to Jordan Scheffield’s, and she was pleasantly surprised. She had expected Jordan to look more like her image of an ophthalmologist; that he’d be older, heavier, stodgy, and far less attractive. But the man who stood before her was dramatically handsome with sandy blond hair, tanned skin, bright blue eyes, and rugged, angular features. Not only didn’t he look like an ophthalmologist, he didn’t even look like a doctor. He looked more like a professional athlete. He was even taller than her father, who was six-two. And instead of a glenn plaid suit like her father was wearing, he had on tan slacks, a blue blazer, and a white shirt open at the collar. He wasn’t even wearing a tie.
Laurie shook hands with Jordan as Sheldon made the introductions. His grip was forceful and sure. He looked directly into her eyes and smiled pleasantly.
The fact that Sheldon liked Jordan was immediately apparent to Laurie as he pounded him on the back, insisting he get him some more of the special Scotch he usually hid when company came. Sheldon went to get the prized liquor, leaving Laurie alone with Jordan.
“Your parents are extremely hospitable,” Jordan said.
“They can be,” Laurie said. “They enjoy entertaining. They certainly were looking forward to your coming tonight.”
“I’m glad to be here,” Jordan said. “Your father had nothing but nice things to say about you. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“Thank you,” Laurie said. She was mildly surprised to hear that her father had spoken of her at all, let alone spoken well. “Likewise,” said Laurie. “Frankly, you’re not what I’d expected.”
“What did you expect?” Jordan asked.
“Well,” said Laurie, suddenly slightly embarrassed, “I thought you’d look like an ophthalmologist.”
Throwing his head back, Jordan laughed heartily. “And just what does an ophthalmologist look like?”
Laurie was relieved when her father came back with Jordan’s refill, thus sparing her an explanation. Her father told Jordan that he wanted to show him some ancient surgical instruments in the den. As Jordan obediently followed his host, he sent a conspiratorial smile Laurie’s way.
At dinner, Jordan was responsible for lightening the atmosphere. He managed to force even the most reserved of Laurie’s parents’ friends to open up. Hearty laughter filled the room for the first time in recent memory.
Sheldon encouraged Jordan to tell certain stories he’d told Sheldon about his famous patients. Jordan was only too happy to oblige, and he recounted the stories in an exuberant, almost boastful manner that had everyone laughing. Even Laurie’s emotional day receded into the background as she heard Jordan’s amusing tales of the rich and famous who passed through his office each day.
Jordan’s specialty was the anterior part of the eye, particularly the cornea. But he also did some plastic surgery, even cosmetic plastic surgery. He’d treated celebrities ranging from movie stars to royalty. He had everyone in stitches about a prince from Saudi Arabia who’d come to his office along with dozens of servants. Then he went on to name drop a few sports figures he was treating. Finally, he mentioned he’d even treated the occasional Mafioso.
“As in Mafia?” Dorothy asked with horrified disbelief.
“Absolutely,” Jordan said. “God is my witness. Honest-to-goodness mobsters. In fact just this month I’ve been seeing a Paul Cerino, who is obviously connected to the underworld over in Queens.”
Laurie choked on her white wine at Jordan’s mention of Paul Cerino’s name. Hearing it for the second time that day startled her. The conversation stopped as everyone looked at her with concern. She waved off their attention and managed to say she was all right. Once she could speak again, she asked Jordan what he was treating Paul Cerino for.
“Acid burns in his eyes,” Jordan said. “Someone had thrown acid into his face. Luckily he had been smart enough to rinse his eyes with water almost immediately.”
“Acid! How dreadful,” Dorothy said.
“It’s not as bad as alkali. Alkali can eat right through the cornea.”
“Sounds ghastly,” Dorothy said.
“How are Cerino’s eyes doing?” Laurie asked. She was thinking of Frank DePasquale’s right eye, wondering if that could be the beginning of the break that Lou had been hoping for.
“The acid opacified both corneas,” Jordan said. “But the fact that he washed his eyes out saved the conjunctiva from extensive damage. So he should do well with corneal transplants which we’ll be doing soon.”