Wallace unzipped his leather briefcase and reached inside toward the white cardboard box.

“His daily medication schedule isn’t open to your personal adjustments,” Dr.

Wallace said.

“I’m preparing his morning paralytic dose now.”

I reached into my apron pocket and took out my small leather change purse.

I unfolded four twenty-dollar bills and two ten-dollar bills and laid the eighty dollars flat on top of his open paper chart.

It was all the cash I had saved, money I had set aside from my weekend overtime to buy winter socks and formula for Theodore.

“Take your private consultation fee for the day now, Doctor,” I said, keeping my voice flat and even.