Shock by Robin Cook

around the generous space. Nearly every seat was taken. There were spotty areas of hushed conversation but in general the room was surprisingly quiet for being so crowded.
    "Well, no Dr. Donaldson," Deborah said. Her eyes swept the room once again to be certain.
    "So, let's have her paged," Joanna said.
    Together they approached the central desk. The receptionist was an attractive, young, amply endowed redhead. She had pouty, full lips like many of the women gracing the covers of the magazines displayed in the grocery checkout line. Her nameplate said ROCHELLE MILLARD.
    "Excuse me," Joanna said to get the woman's attention. She was surreptitiously reading a paperback book cradled in her lap.
    The book disappeared as if by magic. "Can I help you?" Rochelle asked.
    Joanna asked for Dr. Donaldson to be paged.
    "Are you Joanna Meissner?" Rochelle questioned.
    Joanna nodded.
    Rochelle's eyes switched to Deborah. "Are you Miss Cochrane?"
    "I am," Deborah said.
    "I have something for each of you from Margaret Lambert, the comptroller." Rochelle opened a drawer to her right and pulled out two envelopes with cellophane windows. Neither was sealed. She handed them to the surprised women.
    After exchanging a covert, conspiratorial smile, the two women peeked inside their respective envelopes. A moment later their eyes met with new smiles.
    "Bingo!" Deborah said to Joanna. She laughed. Then she turned to the receptionist and said: "Mille grazie, signorina. Partiamo a Italia."
    "The first part means a thousand thanks in Italian," Joanna said. "The rest I'm not sure about. And forget about paging Dr. Donaldson. It's not necessary."
    Leaving the confused receptionist, Joanna and Deborah started for the door.
    "I feel a little like a thief taking this kind of money out of here," Deborah said sotto voce as they wended through the crowded room. Like Joanna she was clutching her envelope in her hand. She avoided eye contact with anyone, fearing she might be forced to face someone who'd had to mortgage her home to pay for infertility treatment.
    "With this many patients here I think the Wingate can afford it," Joanna responded. "I'm getting the distinct feeling this business is a virtual money machine. Besides, it's the prospective clients who are actually paying us, not the clinic."
    "That's just the point," Deborah said. "Although I suppose those people choosey enough to demand a Harvard coed's egg can't be hurting for cash."
    "Exactly," Joanna said. "Concentrate on the idea that we are helping people, and they, in their gratitude, are helping us."
    "It's hard to feel altruistic getting a check for forty-five thousand dollars," Deborah said. "Maybe I feel more like a prostitute of sorts than a thief, but don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining."
    "When the couples get their children, they'll be thinking they got the better deal by a long shot."
    "You know, I think you are right," Deborah said. "I'm going to stop feeling guilty."
    They emerged into the crisp New England morning. Deborah was about to descend the stairs when she became aware that Joanna was hesitating. Glancing at her friend's face she noticed that Joanna was grimacing.
    "What's the matter?" Deborah asked with concern.
    "I just had a pang down here in my lower abdomen," Joanna said. She gestured with her left hand over the area. "I even felt a twinge in my shoulder, of all places."
    "Do you still feel it?"
    "Yes, but it's better."
    "Do you want to go back and see Dr. Donaldson?"
    Joanna tentatively pushed against her lower belly just in from the crest of her left hip. There was a mild degree of discomfort until she let go. Then she got another stab of pain. A whimper escaped from her lips.
    "Are you all right, Joanna?"
    Joanna nodded. Like the first spasm, the pain had been fleeting except for a remaining mild ache.
    "Let's go page Dr. Donaldson,' Deborah said. She grasped Joanna's arm with the intention of leading her back into the Wingate Clinic, but Joanna resisted.
    "It