Free The Doctor Makes a Dollhouse Call by Robin Hathaway Page A

Fenimore knew he had come up with the right tonic for his depressed friends. He glanced over at Horatio. The boy’s dark face had deepened a few shades and he was viciously biting his lip. Fenimore prayed this self-inflicted pain would prevent him from erupting into an embarrassing guffaw.
    The karate experts lined up in five rows of five each and began their maneuvers. Shaking their fists first to the right, then to the left, they punctuated each move with staccato shouts. The kicks were next, aimed at the audience and accompanied by more shouts. Originally, Fenimore had thought of these women as sort of senior Rockettes. But that image quickly faded. There was nothing merry and bright about these performers. They were in deadly earnest. Their enemies had better watch out.
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    Refreshments were served after the performance. The ladies had all showered and changed back into their colorful pant suits. Seated in the parlor, balancing their teacups and taking dainty bites of pastries, no one would have suspected them of being able to fend off the fiercest attackers on a dark street corner.
    Fenimore set about the other task for which he had come to Seacrest—testing Emily’s pacemaker. He had brought the programmer. He unzipped the plastic case and took it out, along with the instruction manual (in case he forgot how it worked). The programmer resembled a laptop computer, but a little larger. Several people gathered around to look—Adam, Susanne,
Carrie, Horatio, and a few of the younger children.
    â€œHow does it work?” asked Carrie.
    Fenimore explained that he programmed the pacemaker to take over Emily’s heartbeat if her natural pacemaker failed. To prevent her from becoming dizzy her heart must beat at a rate above fifty-five beats per minute. If it dropped below that, not enough blood would get to her head or other parts of her body, and she would become dizzy or faint.
    Mildred wandered over holding the cell phone she seemed never to be without.
    â€œHey, keep that phone away from here,” Fenimore warned. “They’ve been known to interfere with pacemakers,” he said sternly.
    Mildred moved away, looking hurt.
    As Fenimore beckoned to Emily, he noticed Carrie and Horatio hovering awkwardly in the background. Why not invite them to watch?
    â€œWould you mind if Carrie and Horatio look on?” he asked Emily.
    â€œHeavens no.”
    â€œYou two wait here until I call you,” he said, and pushed Emily in her wheelchair to the privacy of the library.
    Fenimore quickly attached three electrodes to Emily’s chest and waited while she rebuttoned her blouse. “Come in you two scientists,” he called. He lifted the lid of the programmer and the screen glowed amber.
    As he adjusted the settings, Emily asked the teenagers, “How would you like to have your life depend on a metal gizmo no bigger than a half dollar?”

    â€œNot much,” Horatio said honestly.
    Carrie nodded in agreement.
    The three watched the screen intently.
    â€œIs everything in order, Doctor?” asked Emily.
    Fenimore nodded. “Everything’s perfect,” he said. “You’ll probably be around for another hundred years.”
    â€œI hope not.” Emily laughed.
    As they were leaving the room, Horatio hung back. “What’s that?” He pointed to a small box next to Emily’s telephone. Carrie lingered too.
    â€œThat’s a telephone transmitter. Emily wets the index finger of each hand—”
    â€œSometimes I just stick them in my mouth,” Emily said with a twinkle.
    â€œâ€”and inserts each finger into a special ring. Each ring is attached to a lead that, in turn, is plugged into the transmitter. When Emily punches in the pacemaker company’s eight-hundred number, her electrocardiogram is sent to them like a fax. The company checks it out every three months to make sure her pacemaker is working.”
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    An hour later