She watched as Dr. Zimmerman set a thin folder down on the desk. They were in a wide study in Grace’s house. She was the kind of person people made house calls for, even on Christmas. All that bad news from such a small file. It struck Grace as strange, though she wasn’t sure why. She was an accomplished chemist and knew that the most terrible things often came in small doses. “How long?” Grace asked, as though the question were an involuntary reaction. “Isn’t that what people ask in this situation?” Dr. Zimmerman sighed, removing her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Patients at this stage usually have a time frame of around six months. That’s about where I’d put you, Grace.” “Six . . .” It wasn’t enough time. There was still too much to prepare, too much that the children didn’t know. And if they weren’t ready, the whole world could suffer. “I’ll take eight,” Grace said. “Grace,” said Dr. Zimmerman. “You’re a strong and ambitious woman.
