Samantha. “You be quiet,” I told the Daddy inside me. “Not everything in this life is measured in a profit-and-loss statement.”
TWELVE
Dr. Bliskin had his offices in a beautiful, new modern building off the main street of Hillsborough. The lobby was paneled in a pretty Wedgwood blue with slightly darker blue marble tiles. The room was softened by a half dozen cheerful paintings of idyllic country scenes. There was an array of cushioned chairs and two matching settees. Magazines, most about motherhood and childbearing, were stacked neatly on a center table. The receptionist was behind a glass panel that she slid open the moment we stepped into the lobby. Before we even reached her, she was smiling and informed Samantha we should go right in. Two pregnant women, one quite a bit further along than the other, looked up, curious and annoyed.
Samantha opened the door, and we were immediately greeted by Dr. Bliskin’s nurse, a woman who looked no more than forty, if that, with short light-brown hair. “Mrs. Topper, RN,” was on her breast label.
“Dr. Bliskin wants to start with you in his office, Mrs. Davenport,” she said.
For a moment, it felt as if I were the one accompanying her. Mrs. Topper barely acknowledged me with a glance. We followed her to the first door on the left and entered an office with a desk upon which were a number of framed photographs of very young children.
“He’ll be right in,” Mrs. Topper said. She finally smiled at me to acknowledge my presence. “Just make yourself comfortable.” She nodded at the chairs in front of the desk. “We’re all very excited for you,” she told Samantha, who thanked her.
Did she think Samantha was having her own child? Did she think I was some servant or friend accompanying her and nothing more?
“She’s very sweet,” Samantha said after Mrs. Topper left. “She’s been with Franklin ever since he started his own practice here. Oh, these children are his triplets.” She picked up one of the framed photos that had all three, not looking much more than six or seven months old. “They were all born prematurely. Touch and go for about a week, but they all survived.”
“Does Mrs. Topper know anything about our potential arrangement?”
“Whatever Franklin told her,” she replied, and sat, her face frozen in anticipation.
Moments later, Dr. Bliskin entered. “Ladies,” he said.
Dr. Bliskin looked to be about six feet tall, with dark-brown hair that was a shade lighter than black. He had hazel eyes and a dark complexion, the complexion of someone who had just returned from a restful vacation in the Caribbean. Unlike Dr. Davenport’s, his face was not as well chiseled. His cheeks were fuller and his forehead wider, but he had a strong-looking mouth and a firm jaw. When he looked at me, his smile deepened with a pleasant surprise. There was a delight in his eyes that immediately relaxed me.
“And you must be Emma Corey,” he said. He extended his hand and then looked at Samantha and nodded, as if confirming something she had told him. “So,” he said, walking quickly behind his desk. “Everything I have so far from the hospital is A-plus.”
“Results already?” I asked.
“I know somebody who knows somebody,” he joked. There was a very youthful glint in his eyes. He turned to Samantha. “Do you have any questions, Samantha?”
“No,” she said. “I’ve explained to Emma how much confidence we have in you, Franklin.”
“Thank you. Well, then, why don’t you give me a couple of hours with Emma?” He looked at his watch. “Come back about twelve thirty.”
“Oh, no. I want to wait here,” she said firmly.
He nodded and turned to me. “I understand Dr. Davenport gave you a heads-up on what we’ll do here today?”
“Somewhat, yes,” I said.
“I’ll explain it more as we go along. Feeling okay? Even going to a hospital for routine tests can exhaust you.”
I took a deep breath. I could sense Samantha’s eyes were intensely focused on me. This was another moment of decision, another chance to spin around and head home. There would be one more, but after that…
“I’m okay,” I said. “Everyone’s been very considerate.”
“Good to hear. Okay, then, why don’t we get right to it?” He rose. As if she could see through the walls or perhaps had her ear to the door, Mrs. Topper opened the door.
“Mrs. Topper will get you all set,” he said. “Samantha, you’re welcome to stay in my office if you like.”