“I, uh, I just realized that I didn’t know anything about her, except what Georgina told me. I guess I just wanted to make sure the methods she used with the group were, well, orthodox.”
Mindy chuckled. “You can be certain of that. Diana was licensed by the state of Maryland.”
“So,” I asked, “is someone else qualified going to take over?”
“I should think so. Joy is trying to find another therapist by the end of the month.”
“Who is your pediatrician, by the way?”
“Dr. Voorhis. You got kids? He’s absolutely the best.”
Bingo! Two votes for Dr. Voorhis. “If I were in the market I’d sign up right now, Mindy, but my daughter is twenty-two and lives in Colorado. I have a one-month-old granddaughter.”
“No way! You? A grandmother?”
“Yup.”
“Honestly, Hannah, you don’t look old enough to be a grandmother.”
“Sold my soul to the devil in exchange for eternal youth,” I quipped.
There was a long silence, and when Mindy spoke again, her voice was cool and measured. “A word to the wise, Hannah.”
I wondered how I had stepped on her toes.
“Don’t mention the devil in group session.”
“Sorry.”
“You had no way of knowing. It’s Gwen. Her parents were involved in a satanic cult.”
I gulped. “The dairy farmers?”
“It takes all kinds.” While I was digesting this, another line began to buzz, saving me from having to come up with a coherent reply. “Look, gotta go,” Mindy chirped. “Thanks for calling. Will I see you on Wednesday?”
“Probably.”
“Good!” She sounded like a cheerleader. “Keep journaling!”
“I will.”
After I hung up, I stared at the wall for a while, then looked at the yellow pad in front of me. I’d written Dr. V in big, square capital letters and drawn several circles around it. What connection did the pediatrician have with Diane Sturges? Not her husband. I’d read in the Sun that Sturges had been married to an architect. That certainly explained the geometric roofline and cantilevered wings of their fashionable Lake Roland home. Was Dr. Voorhis her lover? Or was it just a case of one medical colleague helping out another? I sat there, puzzling, idly drawing additional boxes around his name and decorating the results with superfluous circles and arrows. How was I to know that in less than twenty-four hours I’d be face-to-face with the man, under totally unforeseen circumstances?
chapter 12
At a few minutes after ten-thirty, I finally found a parking space for my car near the cul-de-sac at the end of Colorado Avenue. I strolled up the sidewalk on the sunny side, savoring the sensation of warmth against my cheek while the rest of me was freezing in the inadequate windbreaker I’d tossed over my jeans and T-shirt.
At Scott and Georgina’s, I reached over and unlatched the gate, then hurried up the walk that bisected the front yard. Ragged remains of summer flowers waved desultorily in the crisp breeze. I passed an overturned tricycle, probably Julie’s, a basketball squashed flat, and a plastic softball bat that, judging from the crack along the seam, might have been used to squash the former.
I pulled open the screen door and rapped sharply with the knocker.
“Come in.” Scott sounded so close, I thought for a minute that he’d hollered at me through the mail slot.
I turned the knob and pushed the door open with two fingers, nearly bumping into my brother-in-law, who was shrugging into a khaki trench coat. He snatched a wool golf cap from a hook near the door and laid it flat on his head, like a pancake.
Unlike the last time I saw him, Scott was positively charming. He had changed so much, in fact, that I wondered if he’d had a personality transplant.
“Thanks, Hannah. You are a gift from heaven.” He kissed the air next to my cheek.
I cringed. After what he’d said about my parents the other day, I didn’t feel like having anything to do with the jerk.
Scott waved vaguely. “The boys are at school and Julie’s in watching TV.”
“Fine,” I snapped, and hung my coat on a hook next to Georgina’s familiar green one. It swung in the breeze like a ghost, reminding me of the day I had found Georgina at Dr. Sturges’s. I turned to face him. “And when may I expect you, Scott?” I hoped he’d notice my icy tone, but the man was oblivious.
“We’ll pick the boys up at school and be back around four.”
I looked around. “Where’s Georgina?”
“I’m coming!” Georgina appeared in the door of the living room looking radiant. Her auburn hair was piled up on her head in an elaborate twist and her makeup was cover-girl perfect. I’d dressed in five minutes that morning and didn’t dare pass a mirror for fear that I’d die of fright. Or shame.
I grabbed both of Georgina’s hands in mine and squeezed. “It’s great to see you looking so well, Georgina.”
She smiled weakly. “I’m a mess, Hannah, but I’m hoping that this new doctor can help straighten me out.”
I had to agree, Georgina was a mess. A beautiful mess, like a freshly painted Victorian house consumed by termites and riddled with dry rot. I pulled her to me and hugged her hard. “God, I hope so, baby!”
“C’mon, Georgina!” Scott had opened the door. A cold breeze whistled up my pants legs and a dry leaf skittered across the hardwood floor.
Georgina grabbed her coat and handed it to Scott, who draped it carefully around his wife’s shoulders. She stepped out onto the porch, turned her head, and graced me with a Mona Lisa smile. “Wish me luck!”
“Good luck.” I waved and stood in the doorway until Scott started his engine. As I closed the door, I heard the SUV roar away.
“Hey, Julie!” I called. “Where’s my favorite niece?” There was no answer, but I could hear the TV blaring. When I entered the TV room, Julie appeared flushed and listless, curled up on the sofa with Abby. The blue-gray afghan Mother had crocheted for Georgina two Christmases ago was tucked loosely around her knees. Sally Jessy Raphael was interviewing a former stripper. Clearly no one did any prescreening on the cable box in this house. I found the remote and clicked over to Channel 22. Arthur was just ending and Wishbone would be coming on soon.
Julie took her thumb out of her mouth and glared at me contemptuously. “I was watching that, Aunt Hannah!”
“That’s a grown-up show, Julie. Not for kids.”
“But it was in-ter-rest-ing,” she whined, pronouncing every syllable. “That lady’s a proseltude.”
I tried hard not to laugh. “What does Abby like to watch?”
Julie lifted her toy rabbit and stared at her, nose to nose. “What do you want to watch, Abby?” Abby’s whole body nodded, and Julie looked at me with serious eyes. “Silly Jessy,” she translated. “Abby wants to watch Silly Jessy.” She clicked back to the network show.
I sat down on the sofa next to my niece. One of her taffy-colored ponytails had come loose; the other was bound with a fat green rubber band like the kind that holds celery stalks together in the grocery. I reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear and was surprised to find that she had a fever.
“Ow!” Julie’s mouth was a rosy “O” that declined to release her thumb. “My ear hurts, Aunt Hannah.”
“Well, no wonder. You had the TV up so loud.” I grabbed the remote and punched the volume control until an advertisement for snow tires was reduced to a dull roar.
Julie laid her left palm flat against her ear. “It really hurts, Aunt Hannah.” A big tear coursed down her cheek and dripped onto Abby’s nearly bald head.
“Did you tell Mommy?”
She shook her head.
“Daddy?”
“Uh-uh.”