Gyn appt at 2:00. We’ll leave here at 1:30.
She’d worked a miracle, underscoring once more why Sinclair relied on her like he did. And it turned out that she was doing the same thing for me.
Now if I could only keep her from knowing my business as much as she knew Sinclair’s—that would be a miracle if I could get away with it.
Chapter 10
By the time Edna and I left for the doctor, I had all but finished my application to DU. I had the matter of making the payment, though—for both the application and to have my transcripts from WCC sent to DU. I’d have to wait until Sinclair gave me the card he’d promised.
Still, I was quite satisfied with my progress—and I wanted to share it with someone. I’d tell my father later this evening over the phone, but there was someone else who might be proud of me.
I sent Sinclair a quick text message: Application to DU all done except for $$.
When I entered the kitchen, I tried my best to walk as normally as I could. Although the pain was gradually lessening—especially when I wasn’t moving—I still had a way to go.
Of course, Edna noticed. “Oh, you poor dear. I’m so glad the doctor was able to see you today.”
“Thanks for taking me.”
“Think nothing of it. Would it help if I held you on one side while we make our way to the car?”
And have her figure out it wasn’t what I’d told her it was? “No, I’ll be okay. Thanks.” With that, I tried even harder to walk like I ordinarily would…just more slowly.
We didn’t go down the west hall to get to the garage as I’d expected; instead, I followed Edna down the main corridor to the east rear hall, past Sinclair’s office. I’d never walked down this side except to enter the office, so I was on full alert. The room past his office looked like a large conference room—rather out of place here. It would have seemed more natural in an office building, but knowing that Sinclair liked to work at home sometimes, it made sense.
There were several more rooms we passed, all with closed doors.
Edna must have sensed my curiosity. “All these rooms back here used to be reserved for staff. One is a break room, and there is also a security room and a room where all the decorations are stored, but the rest are living quarters.”
“Did you ever live here?”
“When Mr. Whittier was a baby, I and my first husband did. If his mother had been alive, we wouldn’t have done it—but the little one needed me and his father was gone far too much. He wouldn’t have had a clue how to raise a helpless infant.”
I almost said something along the lines that he was lucky to have help—but that wasn’t true. Luck had nothing to do with it. Money was why he was able to buy all the assistance he could ever need.
What if Sinclair had been born to a poor family—or one of more modest means? Would his father have been forced to figure out how to be a good parent on his own? Would his mother have killed herself? Even if she were suffering from clinical depression, I started to think, based on her own words, that feeling loved and desired by her husband might have helped. Maybe she would have left him and found a way to be happy and survive on her own.
Then Sinclair might not have even been here.
“Why don’t Greg and his wife live in this hall?”
“You’d have to ask Mr. Whittier—but I suspect it’s because Greg asked. And this place is so big with so many unused rooms, I understand why he wouldn’t object. There’s a kitchenette up there anyway, so why not?”
Soon, we walked through a door at the end of the hall—and into the garage I’d never seen. The cars over here appeared to be more like the kind I’d feel comfortable driving. After all, my little car back at home had been purchased used, already with a few scratches and minor dents. If something happened to it superficially, I wouldn’t have cared.
Still, these cars were slick and shiny, almost like new, even though their price tags were closer to what I could afford.
Edna took a black car in the middle of the garage, and when I saw the H logo on the front, I remembered her saying something about driving a Honda. She’d said it was her favorite and it was practically brand new.
“While you’re at Dr. Anderson’s, I’m going to do some shopping. Just text me when you’re done and I’ll come back. Her office is just a few blocks away from the supermarket I like to shop at, so it shouldn’t take long.”
Although I hadn’t left the mansion much, aside from the evening walks I’d been taking with Sinclair regularly, I’d become familiar with the neighborhood. There were several blocks of some of the nicest homes that reeked of wealth, each seeming to want to outdo the homes they were flanked by. Each yard was lush and green and it was rare to actually see anyone in it. The yards were for show, not for enjoyment.
But after traveling those several blocks, we’d move into homes that were less ostentatious, more middle class and then suddenly, without warning, we would be thrust into the city, and this time was no different—from quiet streets to bustle in less than five minutes. Without all the trees blocking the view, the skyscrapers not far off to the north were easy to spot.
Soon, we were on a busy street, heading the other direction. It wasn’t long before we arrived in what looked to be some sort of office park with tall rust-colored brick buildings. Pulling over to the curb, Edna said, “The clinic is in here. Do you need me to go with you?”
“No…but how will I pay?”