“Forty-two dollars even, Mrs.

Gibson,” he said.

I laid my last twenty, both tens, and both singles on the black rubber tray.

He handed me the yellow register receipt along with a handwritten white note from Dr.

Callahan reminding me not to miss a single daily dose.

I folded the doctor’s note in half and slipped it into the inner pocket of my cardigan, right next to my checkbook register.

My pocket was empty of bills now.