Court Papers in the Locked Drawer of a Community Doctor
I pulled it out. It was a gloss black business card with gold lettering that caught the light of the hallway bulb.
Arthur Sterling, Attorney at Law, the card read. Beneath the name, in smaller print, it said Guardianship and Estate Planning.
I kept my fingers flat against the card, feeling the raised ink. I walked into the kitchen and set my purse on the small wooden table.
“David,” I called out, keeping my voice level. “Whose card is this in your winter coat?”
He came to the doorway, holding his spectacles in one hand. He looked at the black card in my palm, then checked his gold watch.
“It is just a professional contact for one of my geriatric patients,” he said.
His voice had that slow, comforting weight he used when a patient asked about a difficult diagnosis. He walked over and gently took the card from my hand.
“Mrs. Gable’s daughter was asking about local options for her mother’s care last week,” he added.
“I did not know you kept legal contacts in your coat,” I said, my thumb touching my silver wedding ring.
