I shrugged, met her gaze for a moment, then looked away. “What do we do?” I demanded.

“What would you like to do?” Lindsey asked quietly.

“Stop it. Make it stop,” I answered.

“For your friend?”

“Yes, of course,” I retorted fiercely. “Who else?”

Lindsey didn’t reply, she didn’t need to. We both knew what I had just revealed.

“It’s getting late,” I said. “Thank you for your time. I’ve taken too much of it.”

“Not at all. I hope I’ve been of some help,” Lindsey had the grace to reply.

“Yes, thank you, you have,” I answered distractedly, standing to go.

“Can I ask you to walk me to my car?” she asked.

“Yes, of course,” I said, hiding my surprise that a woman who drove a red Jaguar needed to be walked to it.

“Just a moment,” she said, as she cleared her desk.

I stood gazing out the window to avoid looking at her while she packed up.

Lindsey closed her briefcase with a snap, then slowly stood up. Suddenly, she grimaced with pain, then used her hands to catch herself.

“Can I help?” I asked, moving toward her.

“It’s okay,” she said. “My legs get stiff after sitting for a while. Particularly at the end of the day.” She reached to the far side of her desk and got a cane. “I’m okay,” she reassured me.

“Would you like me to carry your briefcase?” I offered.

“No, I’ve got it,” she replied, adding, “I’m used to it.” Taking the cane in her left hand, she grasped the briefcase in her right. “You can, however,” she said as she walked across the room, “shut the door and catch the light.”

I obeyed, following her out. The reception area was dim, most of the lights were out. Ms. Jackson had gone. The aquarium glowed ethereally at one side of the waiting room.

Lindsey led the way out the front door, then turning to lock it, she handed her briefcase to me while she fumbled with the keys.

It wasn’t recent or temporary, I thought. The cane, the limp, the accommodations had all been accepted a long time ago. She knew how much assistance she needed; there was no trial and error in what she could or couldn’t do.

The door locked, Lindsey took the briefcase from me. She crossed the porch, took one step down and stopped, a look of pain on her face. She shook her head, as if to clear it.

“The changing weather. It seems to make things worse. Or maybe it’s just that the days darken so quickly,” Lindsey said. With a wry smile, she handed the briefcase back to me, then using both the cane and the stair rail, she made her way down. She didn’t take the briefcase back this time.

“What do you do if no one’s here?” I asked, curiosity overcoming my reticence.

“When I’m seeing patients, Amanda usually stays until they’re gone and she locks up. If I have to, I can manage by myself. I could probably crawl from my office to my car if I had to. But it’s easier if you help me. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, of course not,” I answered quickly. My legs weren’t permanently twisted.

We walked past my car to hers. She unlocked her door, letting me stand and hold her briefcase.

“It was a car accident,” Lindsey stated. “Now, can I ask you a question?”

I nodded yes.

“Are you and Cordelia lovers?” She looked directly at me, but her glasses covered the intent behind her gaze.

“Yes,” I answered. “Yes, we are.”

Lindsey said nothing, but reached out and took her briefcase from me. Her hand lingered for just a moment against mine. I couldn’t fathom the gesture.

“I wondered,” Lindsey replied, as she stowed her briefcase in her car. “Tell Cordelia…that I’ll call her sometime.” She added, “And if I can help you, let me know.” Her offer seemed genuine.

“Will you talk to the girl?”

“I could. But if she hasn’t told you anything, it will probably take a while to get her to trust me. If ever.”

“Would you try?” I pushed.

Lindsey slowly nodded, then said, “My fee is one hundred and fifty dollars an hour. In a few cases, I will do sliding scale, but only if the situation merits it.”