“It’s okay,” Jennifer said.
Twenty minutes later, Jennifer looked in the mirror and saw a slight crease in her skin in place of the mole. “That’s incredible. I don’t see any sign of the incision or stitches.”
Baldwin smiled. “It’s a little sleight of hand and stitches below the skin.”
“When will you get the results?” asked Jennifer.
“Tomorrow. I’ll give you a call.”
Jennifer couldn’t sleep.
“It’s going to be all right,” Mickey said as they sat up together awaiting the morning light.
The phone rang just as she got her kids out the door for school.
“Jennifer, it’s Dr. Baldwin.” No joking or light conversation now. “I have bad news.”
Jennifer couldn’t breathe, but managed to say, “Go ahead.”
“This will sound worse than it is, but the pathologist read your biopsy as malignant melanoma—cancer.”
No, she thought, I don’t think it could sound any worse.
Chapter Twelve
When Terri Powell looked out her kitchen windows, heavy raindrops were falling from the trees. It was as dark as night.
With all her prior misgivings, Terri surprised herself that she’d gone ahead with her dinner invitation to Matt.
It’s only dinner, she thought, not some grand campaign to marry the guy.
“Don’t just sit there, Abbie,” Terri said. “Give your mother a hand.”
“Just a minute, Mommy,” Abbie said, holding her Xbox controller. She’d been immersed in Barbie’s Horse Adventure.
Terri didn’t know what was worse, the retro mind set for girls of the Barbie generation or the seduction of today’s violent games aimed at children and teens. Terri believed that Abbie’s personality was well-formed, so she felt confident that the effects of these games were inconsequential, or so she hoped.
“Finish now. Company will be here in twenty minutes.”
“Every time we have company, Mommy, you turn into a monster. Who is what’s-his-name, anyway?”
“Don’t kid me, Abbie. You know it’s Matthew Hollis. You couldn’t stop talking about him after he helped you with your bloody nose.”
“Whatever.”
Terri handed a dust cloth to Abbie. “Take your whatevers and dust the furniture.”
Abbie formed a false smile, and then moved the cloth in slow-motion over the furniture.
“You’ll survive, I promise.”
Terri hurried into her bedroom, grabbed her skinny jeans then wriggled into them by lying on her back, pulling, and grunting. She put on a burgundy silk blouse and a simple gold chain around her neck and returned to the kitchen.
“You look pretty, Mommy.”
“Thank you sweetie. You’ll be a good girl tonight.”
“No promises. I really like Matthew. I think you do, too.”
“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. Okay?”
Terri placed wine glasses and cheese and crackers on the kitchen counter. The clock read two minutes to seven.
At one minute after seven, the doorbell rang.
“Why don’t you get that, Abbie.”
Abbie winked at her Mom, and then ran to the door.
Matt smiled. “Well, you clean up real good.”
“It’s delightful to see you, too, Matthew.”
“You can call me Matt.”
“Is it okay to use your full name? I like it a lot.”
“Of course.”
Matt carried a bottle of wine and placed it on the counter. “You look great tonight, Terri.”
“Oh, just tonight?”
He grimaced, turned to Abbie, shook his head, and said, “Women?”
While they sipped their wine, Abby returned to the Xbox.
At dinner, Abbie insisted on addressing her mother as Terri. “Can you pass the salt, Terri? That was very tasty, Terri.”
Afterward, Abbie continued, “Can I help you with the dishes, Terri?”
“No that’s all right. Matthew and I will do it. You can go back to your game.”
“She’s killing me,” Terri said. “I can’t wait until she gets to be a teenager.”
Matt carried the plates to the sink and rinsed them before putting them in the dishwasher.
“Abbie’s a sweet and beautiful child, but I’m willing to bet that soon you’ll be calling these the good-ole-days.”
“I know. I was just being facetious,” Terri said smiling.
“I’m into facetious...once I get it.”
“You use it all the time in your books.”
“You read my books?”
“A few.”
“And...”
“You really want a book review from me?”
“I love to live dangerously.”
“I like them. They’re perfect for the genre.”
“I’m waiting for the ‘but,”’ Matt said, shifting his legs.
“Don’t be so sensitive.”
“I’m not sensitive. I just want to see how well you read me, if you’ll excuse the double entendre.”
“The ones I read, verge on literary fiction—like you’re edging toward that goal, but haven’t committed.”
“You’re right of course and some day, I’ll take the plunge. Right now, I’m content to keep my readers happy enough to bring them into the book stores.”
“I read about your partner. I’m so sorry. He was a good man.”
Matt’s smile disappeared. “He was my partner and friend. I still can’t talk about it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Maybe when we get to know each other a little better.”
Terri managed a seductive smile.
“I see you’re doing a great job being a single mother. It must be difficult.”
“It was. It’s getting easier now that I have the nanny coming in to help with the house and with Abbie. I love my work, and in spite of Abbie’s affectations tonight, she’s a sweetheart. It’s never easy for a child to lose a father.”
“I know you work at San Francisco General and do research too. What are you into?”
“I’m glad you were a little curious about me,” she smiled. “I work in oncology at the General. My research involves application of basic science to the treatment of malignant melanoma. That’s what killed Abbie’s father. I can’t stand it that so many people, especially the young and otherwise healthy, die from that disgusting disease. Malignant melanoma is an assassin lying in wait for the unsuspected. I hate it. I just hate it!”
Terri’s outburst surprised Matt. She seemed so in control. “I wish more investigators came to their work with so much passion.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I’ll have more of this to share with you when and if, we get to know each other a little better.”
“From my perspective, Terri, there’s no ‘if’.”’
They talked for hours like friends who’d known each other for years.
As Matt prepared to leave, Abbie was asleep in front of the television. He turned to Terri. “May I?”
She nodded, yes.
Matt picked up the little girl and carried her into her room. He loved the feel of her small frame in his arms.
Someday, I’m getting one of my own.
Terri turned down the blanket and he placed Abbie on the bed. He smiled as he pulled the cover over her.
At the door, Matt turned to face Terri. “I had a great time tonight.”
“Me too,” she said kissing him softly on the lips.
He returned her kiss and drew her close.
“Easy boy. Let’s not rush things.”
He raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll call you—soon.”
Terri met his eyes. “You’d better.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jerry Calder headed Terri’s research program. Her compensation came through his research grants. They sat together that morning in his Genentech Hall office looking out over the hazy-blue San Francisco Bay. It had a fant
astic view of the Bay Bridge and the arrivals and departures from Oakland International Airport.
“How do you do any work with this view?” Terri asked.
“The university’s pressure to publish keeps me in focus. Some of my best ideas, however, came to me while daydreaming through this window.”
Jerry and Terri had just finished reviewing her research protocol when they turned to a soft tap on his smoked glass door.
“Come in,” Jerry said.
Lisa Gomez stuck her head around the door. “Sorry to bother you. I didn’t know you were busy.”
“Come in, Lisa. Do you know Terri Powell?”
“We met at one of our exciting teas,” Lisa winked. “You probably don’t remember me.”
“You wore the cutest glass bead necklace. The one with the ice cream sundae.”
“You remembered. I love that one too. A friend does lampworking. I model her work.”
Lisa turned to Jerry. “Are we still on for 8:00 a.m. tomorrow?”
“Yes,” said Jerry. “You two should spend time together. You’re both working on BCG and its possible uses in treating cancer. Terri is involved in our trials with BCG at San Francisco General.”
“I’d love too,” Lisa said, “except that each time I talk about my work at PAT to an outsider, I feel as if lightning from heaven or Kendall Pharmaceuticals will strike me down.”
“Are they that bad?” Terri asked.
“Worse. It’s your fault, Dr. Calder,” Lisa said.
“My fault?”
“Of the top ten gene patent assignees, nine are U.S. based and include the University of California,” Lisa said. “The protection of intellectual property has sure put a crimp in scientists talking with each other.”
“You two probably think all this is new,” Jerry said, “but the concept of intellectual property rights goes back to 1845, Davoll v. Brown about mechanical cotton spinning.”
“And you happened to have that information in your head, Jerry,” Terri said. “Impressive.”
“I gave grand rounds on the topic...sorry to destroy your image of me. I don’t think anyone then could have conceived of what’s happened to the idea of intellectual property since. The telltale sign is that I.P. has become a new specialty in the law.”
Terri and Lisa went to the cafeteria, bought coffee, and shared a doughnut as they sat by the glass windows.
Lisa took a sip. “I’m not kidding about security. Their new security man looks like he just came off a chain gang. To tell you the truth, the guy freaks me out.”
“I understand. Let me paraphrase an old New England proverb,” Terri said. “If you really want to know what a business is like, take notice of how they act when they lose money.”
Lisa stared at Terri. “Let me ask you a question, that is, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course not. Shoot.”
“Where do you get your BCG?”
“It comes from Laval University in Quebec. They’ve been working and developing many strains over the years.”
Laval . . . that’s strange, Lisa thought. There’s something...
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t think the same doors are open to Kendall Pharmaceuticals as they are to you at the university.”
“Can I help you with something?”
“No it’s just that...”
“What, Lisa?”
“We recently received a shipment of BCG from Alamand Laboratories in France.”
“I don’t know them. What’s the problem?”
“I’m not sure. David Birch, my boss, was secretive about the source and I couldn’t find anything about Alamand on the Internet.”
“If you think something’s wrong with the BCG, get me a sample and I’ll analyze it.”
“They’d shoot me if I did that. Anyway, I don’t think that’s it,” Lisa said. “Oh hell, I don’t know what I think.”
“The problem’s mostly on your side, Lisa. I’d love to work with you if you get PAT to cooperate.”
“It’s not PAT; it’s Kendall. They run the show.”
Back at PAT that afternoon, Lisa stared through the microscope concentrating on the growth in the Petri Dish. Karl Muller startled her when he stood over her shoulder. “What do you have there?”
“It’s BCG. Just checking on the health of the colony.”
Muller pulled out his notepad. “What were you doing this morning?”
The question startled Lisa. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s a simple question, Ms. Gomez. What were you doing?”
Lisa motioned with her index finger in the come here gesture. When he neared, she leaned over and whispered in his ear, “It’s trade secrets. I’m selling them to Kendall’s competitors. I’ll give you a cut.”
“What!” he shouted turning red.
“Oh, give me a break, Karl. I was just joking.”
“This is no joking matter, now tell me what you were doing.”
Lisa felt chilled.
Stupid...stupid! You can’t joke with a man like Muller.
Lisa stood and faced him. “What I do, is none of your business.”
He took several steps closer until only four inches separated them. “All my questions, Ms Gomez, are in my capacity as director of security. Do you have something to hide?”
Lisa smelled the garlic on his breath, and turned her head away.
He stepped even closer. “I asked you a simple question.”
She felt her heart racing. Her mouth was dry. What’s going on here?
Lisa clenched her fists with determination. “When I’m away from PAT, Mr. Muller, I’m not accountable to you or anyone else. I have my privacy.”
“When it comes to trade secrets, Miss, privacy don’t exist. Perhaps we need to have a talk with Mr. Wincott.”
“That’s fine with me.”
Karl grabbed her arm, pulling her out of her seat.
“Get your Goddamn hands off me,” Lisa shouted.
“What’s going on here?” asked Raymond Fish, a lab tech.
“It’s none of your fucking business, Ichabod,” Karl said.
Ichabod Crane was an apt reference for Fish who was six-feet three inches tall and weighed 140 lbs. He had a beaked nose and thick dark hair.
Raymond Fish had been hatched in the waters of the New York labor movement. His father was president of a local in the City and his brothers organized around the country His entire family were graduates of City College of New York, absorbing its tradition for progressive political thought and aggressive labor action.
“If you aren’t happy here at Kendall,” Karl said, “take your troublemaking elsewhere.”
Raymond wore his white lab coat and stood with his knees splayed in forced repose.
“I don’t know what you’ve heard,” Raymond said, smiling with patience, “and I don’t think that you can characterize labor organizing as anything other than it is. An attempt to protect the interests of your workers. By the looks of it, the union can’t come into PAT fast enough.”
“Our workers do not need your protection. Kendall is great to its employees.”
“Then you won’t mind if I post union organizing material—everyone’s so happy that I’m sure nothing will come of it.”
Karl reddened. “You have a pretty smart mouth, don’t you?”
Raymond smirked.
They walked to Greg Wincott’s office. Karl followed as Lisa held onto Raymond’s hands.
After Karl explained his actions, Greg said, “Thank you, Karl. That will be all for now.”
Karl reddened. “I’m just trying to do my job, Sir. I don’t trust this woman.”
After Karl left, Greg said, “I’m sorry, Lisa. He’s a bit overzealous. I’ll talk with him.”
“Sir,” said Raymond, “this is a perfect example of why the PAT staff needs somebody to protect their interests.”
“I’m not against unions, Raymond,” Greg said. “Before the Kendall takeover, at
least half our employees were union. We’re a subsidiary, and I can’t do anything about Kendall corporate policy.”
Lisa interrupted. “You’re being kind, sir. Karl Muller is a bully. He works though intimidation. I won’t tolerate it, and I don’t think many of your employees will. Many will be more than happy to talk with Raymond.”
Lisa stood and placed her hands on her hips. “If you have some reason to question my loyalty, sir, tell me.”
“I certainly do not, Lisa. Kendall Pharmaceuticals’ practices are foreign to everyone at PAT. We are a subsidiary and must play by their rules, whether we like them or not.”
“I just want you to know, Mr. Wincott, that I’d never do anything to jeopardize PAT.”
“I know. I’ll take care of this.”
“Thank you, Sir. By-the-way, I was at Genentech Hall today. I met with my Ph.D. advisor and scheduled a meeting for tomorrow.” She rose, met Greg’s eyes. “And, I don’t plan to take Karl Muller along, sir.”
After Lisa left, Raymond turned to Greg. “This thing is far from over, sir. It’s one more example of why PAT needs a union.”
That afternoon, Karl Muller received a call from his source at University of California.
“Lisa Gomez and Dr. Teresa Powell were in deep conversation.”
“Could you overhear them?” asked Karl.
“No, but it looked like they were discussing a serious matter.”
“Thanks anyway. Keep up the good work.”
Chapter Fourteen
After hearing Dr. Baldwin’s words, Jennifer set the phone down as if it were a delicate sculpture. She stared at the handset, and then picked it up. Her hand trembled as she punched in Mickey’s number.
“Hillard and Howe, Architectural Associates,” the receptionist said.
“I need to speak with Mickey.”
“He’s in a meeting, Jen. Should I interrupt?”
“Please. I need to talk with him.”
After about a minute, Mickey’s voice boomed over the line. “Are the kids okay? Did anything happen?”
She’d have reacted the same way, she knew. “No, they’re fine. It’s me.”
“What’s wrong?”
Jennifer took a deep breath. “That mole—it’s cancer.” She cried into the phone.
A Simple Cure Page 6