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And speaking of which, I called Gert to wish her a happy birthday, and I’ve got to tell you, I think the woman is nuts. She told me she is spending the day at some damn channeling event. Fortunately, though, she hadn’t forgotten about tonight, and she says she is looking forward to the dinner. She also remarked on how much she was looking forward to seeing your husband; said she hadn’t seen him in a long time. Forsome reason, she seems to think the sun rises and sets on him.”
    “Yes, I know she does.”
    “She asked me if she could bring along a couple of those mediums she hangs out with, but I told her to forget it.”
    “But Mac, it is her birthday,” Nell protested.
    “That may be, but at my age I don’t want any of those nuts studying me—even from a distance—to see if my aura is changing, or worse yet, fading away. I’ve got to go. See you tonight, Nell.”
    Nell replaced the receiver in its cradle and leaned back in her chair. She agreed with her grandfather that Gert was a true eccentric, but she wasn’t “nuts,” as he had said. After Nell’s parents died, it was Gert who had provided her with a great deal of support, becoming a kind of combination surrogate mother and grandmother. And, Nell reminded herself, it was precisely because of her belief in the paranormal that Gert was able to understand what I meant when I said that I felt that Mom and Dad had been there with me, both on the day they died and when I was caught in the riptide in Hawaii. Gert understands because she gets those feelings too.
    Of course, for Gert they are more than “feelings,” Nell thought with a smile. She is actively involved in psychic research and has been for a long time. No, it wasn’t Gert’s mind that Nell was concerned about, but her physical health, because her great-aunt had not been well lately. But she’s made it to her seventy-fifth birthday with most of her faculties intact, and the least Adam should do is put in an appearance tonight, Nell reflected. His refusal will disappoint her terribly.
    That final realization erased any thought Nell might have had of calling Adam to try to put things right between them. It would happen eventually, she was confident of that. But she wasn’t going to be the one to take the initiative—at least not right now.

eight
    D AN M INOR HAD INHERITED his father’s height and rangy shoulders, but not his face. The sharply sophisticated and handsome features of Preston Minor had been softened and warmed by their genetic blending with the gentle beauty of Kathryn Quinn.
    Preston’s ice-blue eyes were darker and warmer in his son’s face. The mouth and jawline were rounder and more relaxed. The Quinn genes gave Dan the full head of somewhat unruly sandy hair.
    A colleague had observed that even in khakis, sneakers and a T-shirt, Dan Minor looked like a doctor. It was an accurate appraisal. Dan had a way of greeting people with genuine interest in his expression—interest that was followed by a second searching glance, as though he were checking to make sure everything was all right with them. Perhaps it was fated that Dan would grow up to be a doctor; certainly it was what he always had wanted. In fact, Dan had not only always known that he would be a doctor, he also had always known that he wanted to be a pediatric surgeon. It was a choice based on very personal reasons, and only a handful of people understood why he had made that decision.
    Raised in Chevy Chase, Maryland, by his maternal grandparents, as a young boy he had learned to treat his occasional and infrequent visits from his father with increasing lack of interest, and eventually lack of interest grew into contempt. He hadn’t laid eyes on his mother since he was six, although a snapshot of her—smiling, hair windblown, her arms wrapped around him—was always kept in a hidden compartment in his wallet. The photo, taken on his second birthday, was his only tangible memory of her.
    Dan had graduated from