Obsession Read Online Free PDF Page B

then left for parts unknown. Sister died in a motorcycle accident and Patty adopted the girl, who’s now seven. She’s got some parenting questions. Can you see her?”
    “Sure.”
    “I appreciate it…”
    “Anything else I should know?”
    “About what?” he said.
    “Patty, the girl.”
    “I’ve only seen the girl in passing. Cute little thing. Patty’s super-organized. Maybe a little too much for a kid.”
    “A perfectionist.”
    “You could say that. She fits in great in my E.R. It was hard for her to admit having a problem. I don’t know why she chose me to tell.”
    “She trusts you.”
    “Could be that…I’ll give her your number, gotta run.”
     
     
    An hour later, Patty Bigelow had called. “Hi, Doctor. I won’t gab on the phone because you sell your time and I’m no mooch. When’s your next opening?”
    “I could see you today at six.”
    “Nope,” she said, “on shift until seven and Tanya’s out of day care at eight, so I’m in for the evening. Tomorrow I’m off.”
    “How about ten a.m.?”
    “Great, thanks. Should I bring Tanya?”
    “No, let’s talk first.”
    “I was hoping you’d say that. What’s your fee?”
    I told her, said I’d be cutting it in half.
    “That’s seriously below average,” she said. “Dr. Silverman assures me you’re not.”
    We debated for a while. I prevailed.
    Patty said, “I don’t usually give in, Dr. Delaware. You might be just the right person for Tanya.”
     
     
    The next morning, at nine forty-two, I was out on the landing when a blue minivan pulled up in front of the house. The engine switched off but the vehicle stayed in place.
    A woman with short brown hair sat behind the wheel, balancing a checkbook. As I approached she put it away.
    “Ms. Bigelow?”
    A hand shot out the window. Compact, nails cut square. “Patty. I’m early, didn’t want to bother you.”
    “No bother, c’mon in.”
    She got out of the car, holding a black briefcase. “Tanya’s medical records. Do you have a Xerox machine?”
    “I do, but let’s talk first.”
    “Whatever you say.” She climbed the stairs just ahead of me. I put her at forty or so. Short and dark-eyed and round-faced, wearing a navy turtleneck over easy-fit jeans and spotless white tennies. The clothes made no attempt to streamline a broad, blocky body. Brown hair streaked with gray was cut in an anti-style as frivolous as a lug wrench. No makeup but good skin, ruddy with a faint underglow and no age lines. She smelled of shampoo.
    When we reached the stairs to the front landing, she said, “Real pretty out here.”
    “It is.”
    No more conversation as we headed to the office. Midway there, she paused to straighten a picture with a fingertip. Hanging back a half step, as if to avoid notice. I noticed anyway and she grinned. “Sorry.”
    “Hey,” I said, “I’ll take all the help I can get.”
    “Be careful what you ask for, Doctor.”
     
     
    She scanned my diplomas and perched on the edge of a chair. “I see another couple more crooked ones.”
    “Earthquake country,” I said. “The ground’s always shifting.”
    “You’ve got that right, we’re living in a jelly jar. Ever try museum wax? Little dab on the bottom center of the frame and if you need to get it off the wall you can peel it without leaving a mark.”
    “Thanks for the tip.”
    Positioning the briefcase so that its front end was flush with a chair leg, she said, “May I?” and got up before I could answer. When the prints were straight, she returned to her chair and folded her hands in her lap. A peachy blush coined the upper rims of her cheeks. High cheekbones, the only bits of definition in the wide, smooth face. “Sorry, again, but it really drives me nuts. Should I talk about Tanya or me?”
    “How about both?”
    “Any preference as to order?”
    “Tell it the way you want,” I said.
    “Okay. In a really small nutshell here’s my story, so you’ll understand Tanya. My sister and I grew