“Anything.”

Gordon pushed open the door. “Thirty minutes. Don’t keep us waiting.”

They hurried off without asking whether I felt any better or needed help. Rita grabbed Gordon’s arm and pulled him toward the entrance, and in my rearview mirror I watched them disappear through the glass doors of the first boutique.

Neither of them looked back.

I waited one more minute. Then I shifted into reverse, drove out of the lot, and headed straight to my doctor’s appointment.

Chapter 3 — The Diagnosis

By 10:30, I was in the waiting room with my medical folder on my lap. The room smelled of disinfectant and fresh coffee; a television in the corner ran a local forecast warning of afternoon thunderstorms across Broward County.