After signing several letters, Thomas called Miss Peabody back.
“How does room 1752 sound?” asked Miss Peabody haughtily.
Room 1752 was a private corner room at the end of the corridor. Its windows faced west and north with a fine view of the Charles River. It was perfect, and Thomas said so. Miss Peabody hung up without saying good-bye.
Thomas changed back to his suit coat and, after telling Doris he’d see her later, left for the Scherington Building. He made a brief stop in X ray to see some films before going to visit Cassi.
When he reached seventeen, he was surprised to find his wife still in 1740. He pushed in without knocking.
“Why haven’t you moved?” he demanded.
“Moved?” asked Cassi, confused. She’d been talking with Mary Sullivan about having children.
“I made arrangements for you to have a private room,” said Thomas irritably.
“I don’t need a private room, Thomas. I’ve been enjoying Mary’s company.”
Cassi tried to introduce Thomas, but he was already pressing the call button.
“My wife is going to be treated properly,” said Thomas, glancing down the hall to see where the nursing staff was hiding out. “If any of these supposedly indispensable hospital administrators have a member of their family in this hospital, they always make sure they have a private room.”
Thomas succeeded in causing an uproar and acutely embarrassing his wife. She had not wanted to bother the nurses when she was feeling well, but for almost a half hour, the entire staff was kept busy moving Cassi to her new room.
“There,” said Thomas finally. “This is much better.”
Cassi had to admit the room was more cheerful. From her position in bed she could see the wintry sun touching the horizon. While she hadn’t liked all the fuss, she was touched by Thomas’s apparent concern.
“Now I have some good news,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I talked with Martin Obermeyer, and he said you should feel fine in a week for sure. So I went ahead and reserved a room in a small hotel on the beach in Martinique. How does that sound?”
“That sounds wonderful,” said Cassi. The idea of a vacation with just the two of them was something to look forward to even if for some reason it didn’t work out.
There was a knock at the partially opened door, and Joan Widiker peered around the edge.
“Come in,” said Cassi, and introduced her to Thomas.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” said Joan. “Cassi has spoken of you often.”
‘Joan is a third-year psychiatry resident,” explained Cassi. “She’s been a big help to me, especially in building up my confidence.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” said Thomas, feeling an instant antipathy. He could tell she was one of those women who wore their femininity up front like a badge of privilege.
“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” said Joan, sensing she was interrupting. “I really just stopped by to tell Cassi that all her patients are being well taken care of. They all wished you the best, Cassi. Even Colonel Bentworth. It’s the strangest thing,” laughed Joan. “Your having a medical problem seemed to have had a therapeutically beneficial effect on them all. Maybe all psychiatrists should have surgery once in a while.”
Cassi laughed, watching her husband straighten his coat.
“I’ll come back another time,” he said. “I’ve got rounds.” Turning back to Cassi he gave her a kiss. “I’ll see you in the morning before surgery. Everything is going to be fine. Just get a good night’s sleep.”
“I can’t stay either,” admitted Joan after he left. “I have another consult on the medical floor. I hope I didn’t chase your husband away.”
“Thomas is just being wonderful,” beamed Cassi, eager to share the good news. “He’s been so considerate and supportive. We’re even going on a vacation. I guess I was wrong about the extent of his drug taking.”
Joan questioned Cassi’s objectivity, remembering the degree of her dependency on Thomas. But she kept her thoughts to herself and just told Cassi how glad she was that things were working out well. Wishing her all the best, Joan departed.