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Dr. Milton noticed this too. “Glen, the boy’s taller than you! An unaccustomed experience for you to look up to anyone, isn’t it?”

“That’s enough of that,” said Tom’s grandfather. “We all shrink with age, you included.”

“Of course, no doubt about it,” the doctor said.

“How does Gloria look to you?”

“Well, let’s see.” Smiling, the doctor moved once again up to Gloria.

“I didn’t come here for a medical examination—I came for lunch!”

“Yes, yes,” said her father. “Take a look at the girl, Boney.”

Dr. Milton winked at Gloria. “All she needs is a little more rest than she’s been getting.”

“If she needs rest, give her something.” Upshaw removed a fat cigar from a humidor on the drum table. He snapped off the end, rolled it in his fingers, and fired it up with a match.

Tom watched his grandfather going through the cigar ritual. His white hair was vigorous enough to be disorderly, like Tom’s. He still looked strong enough to hoist the grand piano up on his back. He was as wide as two men, and part of the aura that had always surrounded him was crude physical power. It would be too much, Tom supposed, to expect someone like that to act like a normal grandfather.

Dr. Milton had written out a prescription, and snapped it off his pad. “That’s the reason your father wanted me to wait until you came.” He handed the sheet to Gloria. “Wanted a free consultation out of me.”

The doctor looked at his watch. “Well, I have to be on my way back down-island. I wish I could stay for lunch, but a little something is going on at the hospital.”

“Trouble?”

“Nothing serious. Not yet, anyhow.”

“Anything I should know about?”

“Just something that needs looking into. A situation regarding one of the nurses.” Dr. Milton turned to Tom with an expectant look. “Someone you might remember from your own stay there. You knew Nancy Vetiver, didn’t you?”

Tom felt a small explosion deep in his chest, and remembered his nightmare. “Sure I do.”

“Always a problem with that young woman’s attitude, you may remember.”

“She was hard,” Gloria said. “I remember her. Very hard.”

“And insubordinate,” the doctor said. “I’ll keep in touch, Glen.”

Tom’s grandfather blew out cigar smoke and nodded his head.

“Give me a call if you still have trouble sleeping, Gloria. Tom, you’re a fine boy. Looking more like your grandfather every day.”

“Nancy Vetiver was one of the best people at the hospital,” Tom said. The doctor frowned, and Glen Upshaw tilted his massive head and squinted at Tom through cigar smoke.

“Well,” the doctor said. “We shall see.” He forced himself to smile at Tom, made another short round of goodbyes, and left the room.

They heard Kingsley walking the doctor to the entry and opening the door to the terrace. Tom’s grandfather was still squinting at him, moving the cigar in and out of his mouth like a nipple.

“Boney’ll straighten everything out. You liked the girl, eh?”

“She was a great nurse. She knew more about medicine than Dr. Milton.”

“Ridiculous,” his mother said.

“Boney is more of an administrator—could be,” said his grandfather with dangerous mildness. “But he’s always done well by me and my family.”

Tom saw a thought move visibly through his mother’s face like lightning, but all she said was, “That’s right.”

“Loyal man.”

Gloria nodded grimly, then looked up at her father. “You’re loyal to him, Daddy.”

“Well, he takes care of my daughter, doesn’t he?” The old man smiled, then looked speculatively at Tom. “Don’t worry about your little nurse, boy. Boney will do the right thing, whatever it is. A little flap at the hospital is nothing to get excited about. Mrs. Kingsley is making us a nice lunch, and after I smoke some more of this cigar, we’ll go out and enjoy it.”

“I’m still worried about Nancy Vetiver,” Tom said. “Dr. Milton doesn’t like her. It would be awful if he let that influence his judgment, no matter what’s going on—”

“Be hard not to let it influence your judgment,” his grandfather said. “Girl ought to know better, in the first place. Boney’s a doctor, no matter what you think of his medical skills, he did go to medical school and he does take care of us and most of our friends. He is also the top man at Shady Mount—been there from the beginning. And he’s one of our people, after all.”

And that was how it worked, Tom thought.

“I don’t think he’s one of my people,” he said.

His mother shook her head vaguely, as if bothered by a fly. His grandfather drew in a mouthful of smoke, exhaled, and cast a glance toward him that only appeared to be casual. He wandered over to the couch with the same false casualness and sat down near his mother. She waved smoke away.

“You seem to care about this nurse.”

“Oh, Daddy, for Pete’s sake,” his mother said. “He’s seventeen years old.”

“That’s what I mean.”

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