The doctor turned to Rick Arlen. “If you would leave us alone, please.”
“Sure. I’ll wait outside.”
The doctor moved closer to the bed. “Alors. What have we here?”
“If I knew that,” Jennifer said weakly, “I’d be making this house call and you’d be lying here.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve come down with the bubonic plague.”
“Put out your tongue, please.”
Jennifer put out her tongue and began to gag. Dr. Monteux checked her pulse and took her temperature.
When he had finished, Jennifer asked, “What do you think it is, Doctor?”
“It could be any one of a number of things, beautiful lady. If you are feeling well enough tomorrow, I would like you to come to my office where I can do a thorough examination.”
Jennifer felt too ill to argue. “All right,” she said. “I’ll be there.”
In the morning Rick Arlen drove Jennifer into Monte Carlo where Dr. Monteux gave her a complete examination.
“It’s a bug of some kind, isn’t it?” Jennifer asked.
“If you wish a prediction,” the elderly doctor replied, “I will send out for fortune cookies. If you wish to know what is wrong with you, we will have to be patient until the laboratory reports come back.”
“When will that be?”
“It usually takes two or three days.”
Jennifer knew there was no way she was going to stay there for two or three days. Adam might need her. She knew she needed him.
“In the meantime, I would like you to stay in bed and rest.” He handed her a bottle of pills. “These will relax you.”
“Thank you.” Jennifer scribbled something on a piece of paper. “You can call me here.”
It was not until Jennifer had gone that Dr. Monteux looked at the piece of paper. On it was written a New York telephone number.
At the Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris, where she changed planes, Jennifer took two of the pills Dr. Monteaux had given her and a sleeping pill. She slept fitfully during most of the trip back to New York, but when she disembarked from the plane she was feeling no better. She had not arranged for anyone to meet her and she took a taxi to her apartment.
In the late afternoon, the telephone rang. It was Adam.
“Jennifer! Where have you—”
She tried to put energy into her voice. “I’m sorry, darling. I had to go to Monte Carlo to see a client and I couldn’t reach you.”
“I’ve been worried sick. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I—I’ve just been running around a lot.”
“My God! I was imagining all kinds of terrible things.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Jennifer assured him. “How’s everything going with the campaign?”
“Fine. When am I going to see you? I was supposed to leave for Washington, but I can postpone—”
“No, you go ahead,” Jennifer said. She did not want Adam to see her like this. “I’ll be busy. We’ll spend the weekend together.”
“All right.” His tone was reluctant. “If you’re not doing anything at eleven, I’m on the CBS news.”
“I’ll watch, darling.”
Jennifer was asleep five minutes after she had replaced the receiver.
In the morning Jennifer telephoned Cynthia to tell her she was not coming into the office. Jennifer had slept rest-lessly, and when she awakened she felt no better. She tried to eat breakfast but could not keep anything down. She felt weak and realized she had had nothing to eat for almost three days.
Her mind unwillingly went over the frightening litany of things that could be wrong with her. Cancer first, naturally. She felt for lumps in her breast, but she could not feel anything amiss. Of course, cancer could strike anywhere. It could be a virus of some kind, but the doctor surely would have known that immediately. The trouble was that it could be almost anything. Jennifer felt lost and helpless. She was not a hypochondriac, she had always been in wonderful health, and now she felt as though her body had somehow betrayed her. She could not bear it if anything happened to her. Not when everything was so wonderful.