Chapter 10: The Infusion Suite

The infusion suite was on the fourth floor, in a long room with reclining chairs and a window onto the parking structure.

I had driven Judith there on the first Tuesday of every month for five years.

She had always sat in the third chair, and she had always complained about the coffee.

She was sitting in it now, in her coat, with her handbag on her knees and a nurse crouched beside her.

"Mrs. Linden, you can't skip it," the nurse said. "Your next dose is due today. If you miss it, you'll be back in the ward by Friday."

"I'm not taking charity from that family."

"It isn't charity, it's a grant."

"I know exactly what it is."

She saw me in the doorway.

Her mouth set into a hard line.

"Here she is," Judith said. "The benefactress."

The nurse stood up, and she looked at me with the careful expression of someone who has been told to keep out of a family matter.

"Ms. Linden, I'm sorry. She came in this morning and said she was leaving."

"It's all right."

I crossed the room and sat in the chair beside Judith's.

She did not look at me.

"Nicholas told me everything," she said. "He called at seven. He told me about the folder in your desk, and the letters, and what your father did."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't say that."

She took a folded sheet from her bag and threw it at my chest.

It was a copy of one of the grant letters, with my signature at the bottom.

It slid off my coat and landed on the floor.

"Sixty months," she said. "I thanked a hospital committee for sixty months. I lit candles for a committee."

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