She turned her lips inward. “Us, People, Star, OK! Stuff she’d always made fun of when I brought it home for weekend reading. I’m no star-chaser but I do work-study at the U. library fifteen hours a week and between that and premed, why not enjoy a little guilty pleasure? Mommy loved to kid me. Her fun reading consisted of investment books, the financial pages, and nursing journals. At heart she was an intellectual. People tended to underestimate her.”

“Serious error in judgment,” I said.

She petted Blanche. “True, but the country-girl image could also work against her. She told me before she met Dr. Silverman she never got what she deserved from her bosses. He appreciated her, made sure she received her promotions…anyway, I think you can see that I’m working through the grief. I don’t repress. Just the opposite, I force myself to remember everything I can. Like when you have a splinter and dig deep.”

I nodded.

“Sometimes,” she said, “I freak out, cry it out, get too tired to feel anything. Nights are the worst. I have nonstop dreams. That’s normal, right?”

“Dreams in which she appears?”

“It’s more than that. She’s there. Talks to me. I see her lips move, hear sound but can’t make out the words, it’s frustrating…sometimes I can smell her-the way she always smelled at night, toothpaste and talcum powder, it’s so vivid. Then I wake up and she’s not there and there’s a huge feeling of deflation. But I know that’s typical. I read several books on grief.”

She recited half a dozen titles. I knew four. Two were good.

“I found them on the Web, chose the ones with the best feedback.” Wincing. “I’ll just have to go through this. What I do need help with-and please forgive me but I’m not even sure you’re the right person to talk to about it…” Her cheeks colored. “I thought of talking to Dr. Silverman…I turned to you because Mommy respected you. So do I, of course. You helped me…” She compressed her lips again. Plinked one thumbnail with the other.