“It’s not our concern.”
“Do you think the Wingate Clinic is getting older women pregnant like that maverick infertility specialist in Italy?”
Daniel flashed Stephanie an exasperated, irritated look as Spencer reappeared. The clinic founder had a man and a woman in tow, both dressed like himself in white, highly starched, long doctor’s coats. First, he introduced Paul Saunders, who was short and squat, and whose thick-necked silhouette reminded Stephanie of the columns supporting the building’s entrance portico. In keeping with his body, everything about Paul’s face was round with puffy, pasty, pale skin, all of which was in sharp contrast to Spencer’s tall, slender frame, sharply angled features, and bronzed complexion. A mat of unruly dark hair with a striking white forelock completed Paul’s eccentric image and accentuated his paleness.
As he vigorously shook hands with Daniel, Paul smiled broadly to reveal square, widely spaced, yellowed teeth. “Welcome to the Wingate, doctors,” he said. “We’re honored to have you here. I can’t tell you how excited I am about our collaboration.”
Stephanie smiled weakly as he moved to her and pumped her hand. She was mesmerized by the man’s eyes. With his broad-based nose, his eyes appeared closer together than usual. Also, she’d never seen a person with different-colored irises.
“Paul is our head of research,” Spencer announced, giving Paul a pat on the back. “He is looking forward to having you in his lab and eager to be of assistance and to learn a few things, I might add.” Spencer then draped his arm over the shoulders of the woman, who was almost as tall as he. “And this is Dr. Sheila Donaldson, head of clinical services. She’ll be making the arrangements for your use of one of our two operating rooms, as well as our inpatient facility, which we assume you’ll be taking advantage of.”
“I didn’t know you had inpatient capabilities,” Daniel said.
“We are a full-service, self-contained operation,” Spencer said proudly. “Although for long-term inpatient care, which we don’t expect, we will be referring patients to Doctors Hospital in town. Our inpatient facility is limited and more just for an occasional overnight, which should serve your needs admirably.”
Stephanie pulled her attention away from Paul Saunders and looked at Sheila Donaldson. She had a narrow face framed by lank, chestnut hair. In comparison to the exuberant men, she seemed withdrawn, almost shy. Stephanie had the feeling the woman was reluctant to look her in the eye as they shook hands.
“No coffee for you folks?” Spencer questioned.
Both Stephanie and Daniel shook their heads. “I think we’ve both had our fill of coffee,” Daniel explained. “We’re still on European time, and we’ve been up since the crack of dawn.”
“Europe?” Paul questioned enthusiastically. “Did your travel to Europe have anything to do with the Shroud of Turin?”
“Indeed it did,” Daniel responded.
“I trust it was a successful trip,” Paul said, with a conspiratorial wink.
“Withering, but successful,” Daniel remarked. “We…” He paused, as if trying to decide what he wanted to say.
Stephanie held her breath. She was hoping Daniel wouldn’t describe their Turin experience. She very much wanted to maintain a distance from these people. For Daniel to share their recent travail would be too personal and would cross a boundary she did not want to cross.
“We managed to get a bloodstained swatch from the shroud,” Daniel said. “In fact, I have it with me at the moment. What I’d like to do is get it into a buffered saline solution to stabilize the DNA fragments, and I’d like to do it sooner rather than later.”
“Sounds good to me,” Paul said. “Let’s head directly over to the laboratory.”
“There’s no reason the tour can’t start there,” Spencer said agreeably.
With a sense of relief that appropriate personal distance had been maintained, Stephanie let our her breath and relaxed a degree as the group trooped out of Spencer’s office.
At the elevator, Sheila excused herself by saying there were patients scheduled, and she wanted to be certain things went smoothly. She then left the group to take the stairs.
The laboratory was off to the left side of the central building and was reached by traversing one of the gracefully curved, covered walkways. “We designed the clinic as separate buildings to force ourselves to get outside, even if we work all the time,” Paul explained. “It’s good for the soul.”
“I get out a bit more than Paul,” Spencer added, with a laugh. “As if you couldn’t tell by my tan. I’m not quite the workaholic he is.”
“Is this building all laboratory?” Daniel questioned, as he stepped through the door held open by Spencer.
“Not entirely,” Paul explained, as he went ahead to stop by a periodical rack where he bent over to pick up a glossy-covered magazine from a stack. The group had entered a room that appeared to be a combination lounge and library. Bookshelves lined the walls. “This is our journal room, and I have here a copy for you of our latest issue of the Journal of Twenty-first Century Reproductive Technology.” He proudly handed the publication to Daniel. “There’s a few articles you might find interesting.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Daniel managed. He scanned the contents printed on the cover before handing it to Stephanie.
“This building has living accommodations in addition to the laboratory,” Paul said. “That includes some guest apartments, which are nothing fancy but certainly adequate. We would like to offer for you to use them if you are inclined to be near your work. We even have a cafeteria, which serves three meals a day, in the clinic building across the garden, so you wouldn’t have to leave the premises unless you wanted. You see, many of our employees live here in the complex, and their apartments are also in this building.”
“Thank you for your offer,” Stephanie responded quickly. “That’s very hospitable of you, but we have very comfortable accommodations in town.”
“Where are you staying, if I may ask?” Paul questioned.
“The Ocean Club,” Stephanie said.
“A very good choice,” Paul said. “Well, the offer holds if you decide to change your minds.”
“I don’t think so,” Stephanie said.
“Let’s get back to the tour,” Spencer suggested.
“By all means,” Paul said. He motioned for the group to move toward a pair of double doors leading into the depths of the building. “Besides the laboratory and living quarters, this building also houses some diagnostic equipment, like the PET scanner. We had it installed here because we felt we’d be using it more for research than clinical work.”
“I didn’t realize you had a PET scanner,” Daniel said. He glanced at Stephanie with raised eyebrows to communicate his contented amazement as a counterpoint to her palpable negativity. He knew a PET scanner, which uses gamma rays to study physiological function, might be handy if a problem arose with Butler after the treatment.
“We’ve planned the Wingate to be a full-service research and clinical facility,” Paul said proudly. “As long as we were putting in a CT scanner and an MRI, we thought we might as well add a PET.”
“I’m impressed,” Daniel admitted.
“I thought you’d be,” Paul said. “And as the discoverer of HTSR, you’ll surely be interested to know we plan to be a major player in stem-cell therapy as well as infertility.”
“That’s an interesting combination,” Daniel said vaguely, unsure of his reaction to this unexpected news. As with so many things about the Wingate Clinic, the idea that they were thinking of doing stem-cell therapy was a surprise.
“We thought it a natural extension of our work,” Paul explained, “considering our access to human oocytes and our extensive experience with nuclear transfer. The irony is that we thought it was going to be a sideline, but since we’ve opened our doors, we’ve done more stem-cell treatment than infertility.”