As he had predicted, they entered her birth mother’s apartment to have Fedosia greet them with the news that the doctor had already made his house call. Veronica wordlessly shed her coat, scarf, and gloves. So. She was to believe the doctor had come and gone. Even though she was standing in this apartment before eight a.m. and Fedosia had said the doctor wouldn’t appear until nine at the earliest. And that was not even getting into the dubious assertion that doctors in Russia’s less than world-class healthcare system made house calls on impoverished patients. Earlier that morning Veronica had established a guiding principle for what she knew would be a difficult day, the last day she would see her birth mother alive. It was this: She would not be upset or disappointed or disillusioned if her birth mother asked for money for medical treatment. It was not a crime to be poor. It was not a crime to request help from someone more fortunate than you.
