Thirty-Two
I RING THE DOORBELL at the Trents’ sprawling Victorian home on Thursday morning.
While we wait for someone to open the door, I say to Helen, “Are you ready for this?”
She takes a deep breath. “It’s all part of the job, Tom. I promised them answers. Fortunately, I now have some to give them.”
The door is opened, not by one of the Trents, but by Martin Maycord. “Hello, Tom, Helen,” he says, stepping aside to let us in.
“Thanks for making time for this in your schedule,” Helen says.
“Well, I’m not just here for this,” he says with a smile.
“Marty! I need my laptop!” calls Mae from the direction of the living room.
Rolling his eyes, he looks at Helen and says, “You’ll be happy to know that you’re no longer the most stubborn patient of my career. Come on, she’s in here.”
We
