To The Bone

Chapter 2

Just after seven a.m., Dr. D. Welles D'Anton looked over notes for his first consultation of the day. The patient's name was Lucia Canter. She was new to the clinic. She was forty-three and recently divorced from a husband who had left her for a young trophy wife. Lucia had been born rich and had come out of her marriage richer still. Her children were almost grown. Now she wanted a new life. D' Anton stepped briskly into the procedure room where Lucia was waiting. She was standing in a corner, wearing only a loose, open-backed examination gown. Stripped of clothes and makeup, she was nervous, even a little frightened. But her eyes were trusting. D'Anton had long since realized that the more naked and vulnerable women felt beneath his hands, the more they adored him. It was strange but exhilarating, and he used that power confidently.

"Good morning, my dear," he said, and gestured at the padded table in the center of the room. "Please sit."

She did, fingers fidgeting at the hem of her short robe, but then leaving it alone. She wanted to please him.

"Look straight ahead, Lucia," D' Anton said. She obeyed like a schoolgirl, folding her hands in her lap. He pulled up a chair and leaned close to her, studying her face, his manicured fingers tracing its contours. She was attractive, her skin and figure good. She had had the time and money to take care of herself through the years. But her face was on the gaunt side – a little horsey, in fact, and lined by stress.

D'Anton's words were more tactful. "You're lucky; you have good bones," he murmured. "Yes, we can do you a world of help. The Miriam Elena look, do you think?"

Her nervous smile widened, almost into a giggle, at the mention of the supermodel's name.

"I'm afraid nothing could make me look like her," she said.

"Don't be so sure, Lucia," D'Anton said archly. "After all, I gave her her face." He pulled the skin gently tighter at the corners of her eyes. "A browlift. A bit of AlloDerm here and there. And cheek implants. They'll soften these grooves beside your nose."

He sat back. "I'll take some facial measurements, then computer-image projections. You'll have several options. Now, you wanted to consider a breast augmentation?"

She lowered her eyes and nodded. "When I had the children – you know."

"Of course," he said soothingly. "Let's have a look."

She reached behind to untie the gown, then lowered it shyly, her eyes still downcast, like a woman unveiling herself for a first-time lover.

D'Anton studied the pendulous breasts for a moment, quickly deciding on implant type and size. He lifted the nearer one, gauging the condition of the tissue, and felt her shiver slightly. Her lips were parted; her breath quickened, her eyes half closed. He almost smiled. It was a moment he always savored.

"Very good, Lucia," he said, clasping her hands in both of his. "I'm betting we can make your daughter jealous. Why don't you go ahead and get dressed, and I'll have my staff set you up a schedule."

D'Anton stepped out into the hall. Then his body jerked slightly, at the abrupt realization that one of his nurses, Phyllis Quires, was waiting for him. She was a squarely built, stolid woman, but she moved with amazing stealth; often he would turn around and find her simply there. He demanded deference, but sometimes she set his teeth on edge.

"Yes?" he said, in the clipped, brusque tone he used with employees.

Phyllis did not usually show emotion, but now her face looked pale.

"Doctor, Mercy Hospital just called," she said. "A woman who had breast surgery yesterday, Eden Hale? She died early this morning in their Emergency Room."

D'Anton's mouth opened as comprehension took hold. His right knee buckled a few inches suddenly, as if he had taken a hard punch to the jaw. His hand fluttered from his side, groping for a wall to brace himself against.

Phyllis stepped to him quickly and took his other arm.

"I'm so sorry, Doctor," she said. "It's not fair that something like this should come along and bother you."