Neon Blue by E Frost (best book reader .TXT) 📗

understand that you’ve had in vitro treatments and know that fertility treatments often result in multiple births. Are you opposed to having multiples?”

Misses shakes her head again and taps the nails faster. Mister says slowly, “Really, we’d just like to be able to have one.”

I smile. “I hope we’ll be able to help you with that.”

“Your success rate is . . . well, it’s impressive.”

I nod in acknowledgement. I don’t tell him our real success rate, because a hundred-percent success rate defies modern medicine and would bring unwanted scrutiny down on our happy little operation.

“Okay, the last thing is timing. I understand that you started your period five days ago, Mrs. McNulty, is that right?”

A nod of the raven head.

“That’s ideal. I’d like to start you on the herbal therapy today. You’ll need to drink five ounces a day for the next ten days. Many of our clients like to mix the solution with yogurt, which is fine. You should abstain from alcohol and caffeine while you’re on it—”

“I’m off all that already.” Misses waves a red-tipped hand. “Totally macrobiotic.”

“Chicken and brown rice,” Mister murmurs. I look at him sympathetically. So much sacrifice for something that should be so natural.

“Well, you should be able to go back to a normal diet after this.”

Misses snorts. “And that’s it?”

“No, I’d like to make an appointment for Mr. McNulty on Monday with Dr. Hua for an acupuncture session.” Increasing Mister’s sperm count at the time the potion should start working on Misses is never a bad idea. “And, of course, you’ll need to make time to be together over the next two weeks.” For couples who have been trying for as long as the McNultys have, that’s often the hardest part. Fertility treatments strip what should be a spontaneous act of love down to timetables and syringes. It’s hard to rekindle the romance. “If you need any help with that, we can offer you a special set of appointments.”

Mister looks bewildered but Misses shakes her head. “I think we’ve wasted our time.”

I give her a hard look. “Mrs. McNulty, why did you come here?”

She rolls her black-framed eyes. “A friend of a friend recommended Dr. Hua.”

“And was the friend of a friend successful?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You will be, too,” I say, with calm assurance. “Evonne will provide you with the herbal solution and can arrange a time for Mr. McNulty with Dr. Hua.” I write out a slip for Evonne. Ten days, straight fertility potion, although I suspect I might need to add an aphrodisiac if Mrs. McNulty doesn’t get pregnant this month. I stand and walk around my desk, holding out my hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you.”

Misses propels herself out of her chair onto her high red heels and stalks out with a terse, “Come on, Howard.”

Mister rises slowly, looking confused and a little embarrassed. He takes my proffered hand and I smile at him. “Mr. McNulty, can I make a suggestion?”

“Uh, yes, what?”

“Candlelight. And flowers.” Even an alpha bitch like Mrs. McNulty should like flowers.

He frowns. “I, uh—”

“Trust me, Mr. McNulty. The treatment works, but you have to make time for it.” And babies should be conceived after romantic, candle-lit dinners. In love, not desperation. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

“Right. Nice, uh, to meet you.”

I wait until after he leaves to wipe my hand on my smock.

Lin cracks open the door to my hearth room with a cheerful, “I can’t believe I missed hazelnut.”

I glance up from the bubbling cauldron and smile at her. “I’ll make another pot after I add the amber.”

She comes to perch on my work-bench, carefully outside of my casting circle. “I heard you met the McNultys.”

“Mmm-hmm. He has one of those terrible limp, damp handshakes—”

Lin shudders sympathetically. “Like a defrosting jellyfish.”

“Exactly.” I stir, watching the color closely. The powdered amber needs to go in after the potion’s turned a deep emerald green. It’s still a medium grass color. “How did the Cowrie birth go?”

She shakes her head. “C-section.”

I sigh. “She wanted a natural birth so badly.” It was the one thing Alice Cowrie said to us from the start. She would do anything, try anything, but she wanted to deliver naturally. I wanted to cry when she developed placenta previa in her second trimester.

“She has a healthy baby boy—”

“Which is all anyone can ask for,” I say with a grin, a refrain Lin and I repeat to each other whenever we feel any sense of failure.

“Did you start Mrs. McNulty on the magic milk?” she asks. Lin and I have thrown around a number of different names for the fertility potion, but we haven’t yet found one that really fits.

I nod. “Mr. McNulty’s got a low sperm count, so I made an appointment for him with you next week.” The potion darkens and I sprinkle in the amber counter-clockwise with a satisfied sigh. Now it can simmer for a few minutes unattended while I make coffee. I retrace my casting circle widdershins. “Mrs. McNulty’s so high-strung that she might benefit from a round with the needles, too.”

“Ah.” Lin shifts on the bench. “And how are you doing in that quarter? You seem a little, tense, today.”

I shoot her a grin over my shoulder as I measure out beans into the grinder. “You would be, too, if you’d had to deal with Mrs. McNulty.” I wait until the whirring of the grinder stops before I add, “Actually, I bumped into one of my old clients this morning, Manny Goldberg. Have I mentioned him to you before?”

Lin shakes her head, her silky black pony-tail swishing.

“Divorce lawyer.”

Lin sucks air between her teeth. Having been taken to the cleaners in her own divorce, I know she has no good feeling for lawyers.

“He’s not a bad guy. Especially for a lawyer. He helped me out during . . . you know. He’s had a ring go missing.”

“Not a wedding ring, I’m guessing?”

I chuckle. “No.” I lean against the counter and inhale the fragrant steam that wafts up