Free Misfortune by Nancy Geary

glass.
    “Pretty dramatic views you’ve got here,” he murmured.
    “Thanks. It’s a nice change from Manhattan. Have a seat. What can I get you? Iced tea? A beer?”
    “Oh, nothing, really. I’m fine.” George perched on the edge of one sofa.
    “Okay, then. I’ll just get Louise. Make yourself comfortable.” Henry turned to leave.
    “Actually, I thought we should talk for just a moment. Alone.”
    Henry stopped. His gaze mixed curiosity and concern. George hadn’t meant to sound an alarm, but the firmness in his voice gave him away. He had been dreading this meeting all weekend. Although the Lewises would receive official notification from Gail Davis that the Membership Committee had declined to act on their application for membership to the Fair Lawn Country Club, George had wanted to tell Henry in person. It seemed like the right thing to do. He now had the sinking feeling that it would be far worse than he had anticipated.
    Henry sat opposite him and crossed his right ankle over his left knee. George couldn’t look straight ahead. He let his eyes drift to the end table and focused on several pictures of the two Lewis girls. Their teeth-filled grins jumped from the silver frames. The images of two children in bikinis with a sand castle in the foreground, of one pushing the other on a swing hung from a tree branch, of both with arms wrapped around their beaming father, were familiar, timeless. No different, these girls are no different from my own, he thought.
    “They’re good. Both of them. We feel very lucky,” Henry said.
    “How old are they?”
    “Eliza is seven and Madeleine will be four in August.”
    “They must like it out here.” George stumbled over his own small talk.
    “We all do.”
    Silence passed between them. George could feel Henry’s gaze fixed on him.
    “Are you staying out through Monday?” George searched for conversation. He wanted to ease into the discussion, backtrack from the clear indication he had given moments earlier that something was wrong.
    “Louise and the girls are going to stay, but I’m heading back to the city tonight. Memorial Day doesn’t get much observance where I work.” He smiled. “Actually, a transplant candidate is being transferred from a hospital in the Midwest.”
    A heart transplant, somebody flown in from halfway across the country to get another man’s heart; the concept was hard for George to imagine.
    “Wouldn’t it be easier to bring the heart to him?”
    “To her,” he corrected. “But to answer your question, she’s been my patient for quite some time. Her husband wasn’t happy with the care she got in Chicago, and brought her to New York last February. He wants us to see her through.”
    “Do you actually do the transplant?”
    “I’m part of what’s called a transplant team. I’m one of several surgeons involved, each with a specific role. Let’s say it’s a group effort.” He paused. When he spoke again his voice was matter-of-fact. “Despite my pleasure in seeing you, George, I’m quite confident that you did not give up a Sunday afternoon to come chat about organ transplantation. What’s on your mind?”
    George felt his heartbeat quicken and wondered whether Henry’s cardiac perceptions were astute enough to notice. Apparently Henry wouldn’t tolerate further delay. “As you probably know,” he began, “the Membership Committee met last Wednesday.”
    “I see.”
    “Yes, well, we had to act on a number of applications. It really was a startling number, more than I’ve seen in years.” He couldn’t look at Henry. “Sometimes, I wonder to myself why people are even interested in joining Fair Lawn. I ask myself that question when I’m faced with folder upon folder of people, all really nice, decent people, knowing they may be rejected.” George’s words gathered speed as he rambled. “It’s so hard to make decisions. Many of us wish that we could just admit everyone, open it up to all the wonderful