Court Papers in the Locked Drawer of a Community Doctor
He looked around the dining room, his face pale and slick with sweat under the warm chandelier light.
Mrs. Miller waved at him from two tables away, and David made a pathetic, jerking motion with his head to acknowledge her.
“We can talk about this at home,” he whispered, his hands flat against the table as if he were about to stand.
“There is no reason to do this here.”
“There is every reason,” I said, standing up and smoothing my skirt.
I took my handbag from my lap and hung it over my shoulder.
“I am going to the lobby,” I said.
He followed me, his steps hurried and uneven as he tried to keep up without drawing the attention of the dining room.
The lobby was quiet, the young hostess busy at her desk near the front entrance.
I turned to face him near the coat rack, where the light was dim and the sound of the restaurant was muffled.
I reached into my bag once more and pulled out the legal document Karen had prepared for me that morning.
