Firefly Lane (Firefly Lane 1)

But it exhausted her, drained her. As the weather had begun to turn cold again, it took all her effort to get up in the morning and take a shower. By November, washing her hair had been such a daunting prospect that shed avoided it altogether. Cooking dinner and doing the dishes sapped so much energy that halfway through she had to sit down.

That all would have been okay, and by that she meant acceptable levels of depression, if only it had ended there. Last week, unfortunately, shed been too tired to brush her teeth in the morning, and shed driven the kids to school in her pajamas.

"I dont know why thats such a big deal," shed said to her husband that night when he asked her about it. Hed taken a job at his old station, and the lessened responsibilities gave him too much time to notice Kates flaws. "Its just a slip in personal hygiene. Its not like I went postal. "

"Youre depressed," hed said, pulling her against him on the sofa. "And frankly, Kate, you dont look good. "

That had hurt, although, to be honest, not as much as it should have. "So make me an appointment with a plastic surgeon. I hardly need a physical exam. I see my doctors regularly. You know that. "

"Better safe than sorry," was his answer, and so now, here she was on the ferry, going in to the city. The truth was—although she wouldnt have admitted it to her husband—she was glad to be going in. She was tired of being depressed, tired of feeling worn out. Maybe a prescription of some kind would help; a pill to forget a thirty-year friendship that had ended badly.

When the ferry docked, she drove off the bumpy ramp and merged into the early morning traffic. It was a gray dismal day that matched her mood. She drove through downtown and negotiated the hill up to the hospital, where she found a parking spot in the garage, then walked across the street and into the lobby. After a quick check-in, she headed for the elevator.

Forty minutes later, after shed read every article in the newest edition of Parents magazine, she was led back to an examination room, where a nurse took all the usual stats and information.

When she was left alone again, Kate picked up the new People and flipped it open.

There was a picture of Tully, mugging for the camera, tilting up an empty champagne glass. She looked gorgeous in a black Chanel dress and glittery, beaded shrug. Below the photograph, it read: Tallulah Hart at a gala charity event at the Chateau Marmont, with her date, media tycoon Thomas Morgan.

The door opened. Dr. Marcia Silver stepped into the room. "Hey, there, Kate. Its good to see you again. " Sitting down on her wheeled stool, she glided forward, reading Kates chart. "So, is there anything you want to tell me?"

"My husband thinks Im depressed. "

"Are you?"

Kate shrugged. "A little blue maybe. "

Marcia made a note in the chart. "Its been almost exactly twelve months since your last appointment. Way to go. "

"You know us Catholic girls. Rule-followers. "

Marcia smiled and closed the chart, reaching for her gloves. "Okay, Kate, well start with the pap smear. Slide on down to the end here . . . "

For the next few minutes Kate gave herself over to the little indignities that came with female health care: the speculum, the probing, the sampling. All the while she and Dr. Silver made stilted, impersonal conversation. They talked about the weather, the latest show at the 5th Avenue Theater, and the approaching holidays.

It wasnt until nearly thirty minutes later, when the exam had moved to her breasts, that Marcia actually stopped making chitchat. "How long have you had this discoloration on your breast?"

Kate glanced down at the quarter-sized red patch beneath her right nipple. The skin was slightly puckered like an orange peel. "Nine months or so. Maybe a year, come to think of it. It started as a bug bite. My family doctor thought it was an infection and put me on antibiotics. It went away for a while and then came back. Sometimes it feels hot—thats how I know its an infection. "

Marcia stared down at Kates breast, frowning. Kate added: "I had my mammogram on time. Everything was clean. "

"I see that. " Marcia went to the wall phone, punched in a number, and said, "I want to get Kate in for a breast ultrasound. Now. Tell them to fit her in. Thanks. " She hung up and turned around.

Kate sat up. "Youre scaring me, Marcia. "

"I hope its nothing, Kate, but I want to be sure, okay?"

"But what—"

"Lets talk when we know whats going on. Janis will take you down to radiology. Okay? Is your husband here?"

"Should he be?"

"No. Im sure its fine. Oh, heres Janis. "

Kates mind was a whirl. Before she knew it, she was dressed again and being shepherded up three floors and down the hall. There, after an interminable wait, she endured another breast exam, more clucking and frowning, and an ultrasound.

"I always do my self-exams," she said. "I havent felt a lump. "