Read Online The Doctor Dines in Prague by Robin Hathaway - Free Book Online Page B

sites. The castle, the cathedral, the Astronomical Clock, and—” She paused. “—I will be your tour guide.”
    It was Fenimore’s turn to laugh.
    â€œWhat is so funny?”
    â€œWhat about your medieval manuscripts?”
    â€œThey can wait. This is just a—as you say in America—coffee break.”
    â€œMead break.”
    Her laugh warmed him. “Where should we meet?”
    They settled on a time and a place.

CHAPTER 13
    M rs. Doyle was frying eggs in the doctor’s kitchen. The town house on Spruce Street that served as Fenimore’s office and home had recently taken on the aura of a daycare center or youth hostel. And Mrs. Doyle had exchanged her customary role of nurse/office manager for cook/baby-sitter. The waiting room had become a recreation room. And the doctor’s bedroom had been transformed into Mrs. Doyle’s temporary boudoir. Marie and Jiri had taken over the guest room. And Horatio had traded his usual role of office assistant for second-string baby-sitter and stand-up comic. Since he was on spring break, he dropped by every afternoon (he never got up until after noon) to take care of Marie, for which Mrs. Doyle was very grateful. It gave her time to do the shopping and other errands. Every evening after the bookstore closed, Jennifer stopped by to check on them. She usually brought some delicious dessert such as cheesecake or chocolate brownies.
    â€œLook!” Marie burst into the kitchen, holding Sal against her chest.
    Mrs. Doyle looked. The cat’s furry, yellow face peered out from a frilly dolly’s bonnet. “Oh, my goodness.”
    â€œDoesn’t she look pretty?” Marie planted a big kiss on top of the
cat’s head. In the process, she must have loosened her grip, because Sal leapt to the floor and vanished.
    â€œShit!” said Marie.
    Mrs. Doyle looked aghast.
    â€œRat says that all the time. Ohhh,” she moaned, “now she’ll go hide and I’ll never find her. Here puss, puss!”
    Mrs. Doyle made a note to speak to Horatio. With that one exception, Marie’s English had improved immensely since she had arrived. “She’ll turn up,” the nurse soothed, secretly glad the poor animal had escaped. Seeing Sal in a dolly cap was akin to witnessing child abuse. “Now, come eat your breakfast.” She placed the fried egg on a plate, between two neat triangles of toast, and poured a glass of orange juice.
    Marie sat down and began to eat with gusto. “Where are we going today?” she asked through a mouth full of egg and toast. Mrs. Doyle frowned. Her instinct was to tell the child not to talk with her mouth full, but she wasn’t sure if it was proper for her to correct her little guest’s manners. She let it pass. “I haven’t decided.” Mrs. Doyle’s feet tended to bunions and they were still recovering from yesterday’s trip to the park. “Maybe we’ll just stay home today and do jigsaw puzzles.”
    Marie looked out the window. “Puzzles are for rainy days,” she said matter-of-factly.
    Following her gaze, Mrs. Doyle noted the bright sunlight filtering into the alley next to the doctor’s house.
    The doorbell rang.
    Marie started to jump up, but Mrs. Doyle stopped her. “Finish your breakfast,” she ordered, and went to answer it.
    Horatio was slouched against the doorjamb, clad in his usual coordinated outfit—black leather jacket, black jeans, black sneakers. His black boom box was tucked under one arm.
    â€œYou’re up early,” Mrs. Doyle said.
    He slid into the vestibule. “Marie here?”
    â€œNow, where else would she be?” Mrs. Doyle blocked his entrance to the hallway. “I want to speak to you,” she said in a stage whisper.

    â€œHuh?”
    â€œYou watch your language around that young lady.”
    â€œWhat … ?”
    â€œThis morning, when Sal jumped out of her