Mortal Remains by Peter Clement Page B

announcing he’d be gone by noon the next day. I was glued to my TV at home. And in my office, Friday, the patients and I watched his departure from the White House. I’ll bet you can tell me where you were, too.”
    Melanie frowned a few seconds, as if trying to recall her whereabouts, then shrugged. “Not really. I remember it happening, but not where I was. Must have been busy days on the floors. Say, the nurses told me you’re going to your son’s home to live.” She got up and walked over to the family photos on the bureau, leaning over to get a better look at them.
    Bessie immediately felt excited. The mere mention of what lay ahead brought her to life again. “That’s right. Me on the Big Sur. Fred Junior and his wife have built their dream house, including a cottage for me, plus arranged for private nurses, all thanks to the dot-coms. The kid had the smarts to sell before they went bust, and I’m going out in style.”
    “Hey, I think you should take a doctor along with you.” She delicately fingered the frames as she looked at the pictures one by one.
    “Come along. That would be the dream team, having you in charge. You’ve always been there for me, when you’ve been there at all.”
    Melanie laughed and moved to inspect the figurines near the head of the bed. “Will you listen to yourself? You can’t blame gibberish like that on the stroke.”
    “You know what I mean. You saved my life twice. Why not a third time? I’ll bet there are lots of opportunities for someone like you in California.”
    “Be careful. I might take you up on it.” She carefully picked up the piece depicting Bessie examining an old man. “This is beautiful. Is that you?”
    “A long time ago-” She stopped short at the sight of Tanya standing at the door. How long the young nurse had been there she couldn’t say. “Yes, Tanya?”
    “I’m sorry to interrupt, Bessie, but it’s time for your shot.”
    “Oh!” Melanie said, peeking at her watch, “Well, guess I better be off, then.” She quickly replaced the porcelain figure.
    Bessie flashed an annoyed look at Tanya for interrupting them. She’d been enjoying the company. “Oh, Melanie, please don’t go.”
    “I really have to. Sorry it took me so long to stop by, yet better late than never, eh? Have a good sleep, and I’ll try to see you before you leave.”
    Obviously their visit was over. Contemplating the striking woman Melanie had become in middle age, Bessie reached for her hand and took it in hers. “All the best.”
    “To you as well,” Melanie said, returning the gesture with a warm squeeze.
    Out of nowhere an insolent little question popped into Bessie’s mind. How come such a good-looking woman had never married?
    Once she’d left, Tanya walked over to a stand where a small, multidose bottle of heparin and packets of needles were kept.
    Low molecular weight heparin was another anticoagulant, this one used in small injected doses to prevent blood clots from forming in the limbs of patients who were bedridden. She wouldn’t normally have needed it, being on warfarin and the baby aspirin already, but having thrown two emboli from her heart so far, the doctors were taking no chances.
    Which was fine with Bessie. No way did she intend to be waylaid again and miss the Big Sur, she thought, watching Tanya, who stood with her back turned as she drew up the injection. Her annoyance with the girl vanished. After all, she’d just been doing her job. “Don’t worry, Tanya,” she said with a chuckle, wanting to make amends for her nasty glance of a moment ago. “I won’t faint if I catch sight of the needle.”
    The nurse laughed, but continued to shield the syringe from Bessie’s view as any thoughtful nurse or doctor does when preparing a hypodermic for a patient. “I know, Bessie. It’s force of habit. You’d probably do the same with me if the situation were reversed.” She dropped the bottle in a plastic container for medical waste, pivoted