Page 11 of Diagnosis Attraction

Her companion laughed. “No. I’m more people-oriented.”

They stopped at the automatic gate where Polly inserted her card, then drove out of the hospital parking lot.

“Does any of this look familiar?” she asked.

“I’m not seeing anything that jumps out at me,” Elizabeth answered.

“Well, let’s try something more specific.” A few minutes later, she pulled into a suburban shopping center and led Elizabeth inside the anchor department store, where they picked up a cart. “I thought we’d try the drugstore section. Why don’t you walk around and see if you can spot products you might have used.”

Elizabeth gave her a grateful look. “That’s a fantastic idea. Thanks.” She grabbed a cart and began wheeling it up and down aisles, where she spotted a brand of makeup that attracted her attention. Also shampoo and deodorant.

“We need to keep track of what I spend, so I can pay you back,” she said again.

“If that makes you feel more comfortable.”

“Of course it does.”

Elizabeth bought lipstick and moisturizer, as well as the shampoo and deodorant she’d spotted earlier. “Did it look like I had on much makeup when I came in?” she asked.

“Maybe a little eye shadow.”

She bought a packet that had a couple of shades of grey. “Fifty Shades,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Isn’t there a famous book calledFifty Shades of Grey?”

Mrs. Kramer laughed. “More like infamous than famous.”

“Why?”

The older woman flushed. “I believe it’s some kind of sex thing.”

“Oh. I guess I didn’t read it.”

“Neither did I. I’m just repeating what I heard.” Polly changed the subject quickly. “Let’s go look at the casual clothing.”

Elizabeth might have protested about spending more money on herself, but she wasn’t going to be borrowing any of the other woman’s shorter and wider clothing.

Maybe Polly was following her thoughts because she said, “I have some big old tee shirts you could use to sleep in.”

“Good. One less thing I need to worry about,” she answered, thinking that this was certainly a surreal experience—although it didn’t quite come up to the standard of touching Matthew Delano and getting into his mind. Or the other part—the sexual part.

Trying to putthatout of her thoughts, she hurried to the ladies’ department, where she found shelves full of inexpensive tee shirts. She selected three—deep blue, turquoise and purple.

“Perfect for your hair and skin,” Mrs. Kramer approved.

“I guess I know my colors.”

She shuffled through the piles and pulled out size eights, which turned out to fit her well, along with a pair of jeans and a three-pack of panties, figuring she could wash them every other day. And the bra she had on would be fine.

“Get some socks and tennis shoes,” her guardian angel advised.

Again, she felt her stomach clench at the idea of spending someone else’s money so freely, but she couldn’t think of an alternative.

On the way home, Polly Kramer pulled into the parking lot of a local grocery store. “What do you want to eat?” she asked.

Another memory test.

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