Never Too Late Page 18

  Jamie’s staff gave a standing ovation when she stepped into the break room. She took a bow and slid into the chair next to Marci. “Chopsticks ready,” she said, lifting hers in the air. “Set, go.” Six pairs of chopsticks dove for the sushi at once. Conversation circled around the table punctuated by groans when too much wasabi hit someone. The camaraderie that used to be in her office was back, and she had Carla to thank.

  “Oh, my gosh, look at the time.” Marci gathered plates, and they all pitched in to help while Carla made a fresh pot of coffee. Teamwork.

  “Thank you for the extra patients,” Sara said. “I’m glad you aren’t giving up your lunch any more.”

  “Team effort.” Jamie squeezed her shoulder. “You’ve got more muscle.”

  “I’m training for a fitness competition.” Sara raised her arms in a mock bodybuilder pose.

  Jamie mimicked the motion. “I used to be pretty buff, too.”

  Everyone looked toward the sound of glass banging against the sink. “Not broken,” Carla said, holding up the glass, a funny look on her face.

  “Carla was going to run with me this weekend, but now that she’s out of commission maybe you’d run with me like we used to.”

  “What’s this about being replaced?” Carla asked, joining the conversation.

  “Well, if Jamie gives you the go-ahead, why don’t we all go?”

  “What’s safer than running with two chiropractors?” Carla looked from Sara to Jamie.

  Jamie hesitated. Was it a good idea to do things with Carla outside the office? Sheryl often did things without Jamie, and she did have her weekly brunch. “Sunday?”

  “Great,” Carla said, rubbing her hands together.

  *

  Carla studied Jamie from the doorway of her office. She looked tired, but the dark circles under her eyes weren’t as pronounced as they had been, and who wouldn’t be tired with the kind of hours she worked? She’d been in a good mood all day, and Carla wanted to take advantage of it to press her newest plan for the office. “I can’t stand it any more.” Jamie looked up from her desk. “I don’t want to insult you, but your clinic could use a face-lift.”

  “Don’t scare me like that.” Jamie patted her chest.

  “What did you think I was going to say?”

  “That you don’t like working here.”

  “Sorry, you’re stuck with me. But this office—”

  “You’re just trying to bury your empty-nest woes.”

  Carla rubbed the back of one of the chairs, her enthusiasm slumping. Maybe she was trying too hard to make a difference. “You’re right. Bad idea.”

  “You know what, it’s a great idea,” Jamie said. “I’m embarrassed to say it looks pretty much the way it did the day we opened it.”

  “We could start with your office and have the whole clinic redone by the end of the year. I’m sure the embezzlement will be resolved by then, in your favor, of course. You could begin the year on a whole new note.”

  “I’m all yours…I mean.” Jamie cleared her throat. “You can do whatever you want. And yes, please start in here. In fact, start with this chair.” Jamie stepped behind it and shook it with mock viciousness. “I hate it. It doesn’t fit me, and I feel about five years old in it.”

  “Well, we can’t have Dr. Hammond feeling five years old, now can we?” Carla used her best Southern accent. Jamie’s eyes darkened and her pulse responded. Penni wasn’t kidding about Jamie and Southern accents. She was thrilled to have the awkwardness gone, but the absence of barriers and the new…well, friendliness, between them was encouraging Carla’s unrealistic fantasy to be more than friends.

  The chair creaked when Jamie sat back down. “Could you find me something…I don’t know…comfortable and not dark brown?”

  Ideas formed as Carla surveyed the room. She could scout new furniture and then take Jamie shopping for the final approval. Personal time with her. “New chair. First on my list.” Carla walked to the desk and ran her palm over the scratched surface. “And a new desk.”

  “This was my father’s desk.” Jamie placed her fingers on the edge.

  “If you don’t want to replace it—”

  “I do,” Jamie said. “I’ve never liked it, either.”

  “What was he like?” Carla sat across from Jamie. She was curious. Several patients had spoken about Jamie’s father like he was a legend. She was nervous about her date tonight and grateful for the excuse to have a few minutes with Jamie.

  “Great with patients—gregarious and charming. Ex-navy. Very active in chiropractic organizations—president of the local and state associations several times. Smart—graduated at the top of his class. Excellent adjuster. He taught me a lot.” Jamie’s description sounded more like a résumé than a daughter’s recollection of her father.

  “If you think I work long hours…” Jamie smiled when Carla nodded vigorously. “We didn’t always see eye to eye, but I have tremendous respect for him. He was devoted to my mother and dedicated to his patients.

  “When did he die?”

  “About six months after the clinic opened. Pancreatic cancer.” Jamie looked at the pictures on the desk. “It was so hard to watch him dwindle to a shadow of who he’d been.” She seemed far away for a minute. “Thank God for Mary. When he couldn’t work anymore she took care of him. With my mom gone and the demands of the clinic…I don’t know what I’d have done without her.”

  “What was she like?” Carla had also heard comments about Mary.

  Jamie steepled her fingers under her chin and looked at her father’s picture. “Officious is the word that always comes to mind. I wouldn’t say she was warm, but she was efficient and loyal to my father. She’d been running his office since before I was born. In fact, she decorated the clinic.”

  “And where does Marjorie come into the picture?” She knew Marjorie was Mary’s daughter but she wanted to understand the history Jamie was dealing with.

  “She’d worked in the office off and on.” Jamie’s voice was tight. “After my father died, Mary brought her in full time. She retired about a year later, and there was never any question that Marjorie would take over.”

  “What was she like?”

  “Cranky. Like nothing I did for her was ever good enough. My father and Mary were a seamless team. I thought I’d have that with Marjorie.” Jamie made no attempt to hide the bitterness in her voice.

  “How did you discover the embezzlement?” Carla had gotten some of the story from Betty, but she wanted Jamie’s version.

  Jamie’s hands closed into fists before she answered. “I didn’t. I discovered the insurance fraud. By accident.”

  “It might help if I knew the whole story.”

  Anger and guilt settled on Jamie’s face, and she didn’t say anything for a while. “I was going through the mail because Marjorie called in sick. There was a notice from Blue Cross that payment on my claims was being suspended pending their investigation. It was a second notice and I was furious, but I assumed it was just a case of wanting more documentation. The next day I got a notice from United Healthcare. It was a final notice threatening legal action against me for fraud. That’s when I knew I had a problem.” Jamie looked up. “It was a nightmare,” she said, her voice collapsing to a whisper.

  “I’ve found a lot of files where pages were ripped out—treatment notes and I think EOBs. Looks like she knew the jig was up and was trying to cover her trail. How did you figure out she’d been embezzling?”

  “I didn’t.” Jamie clenched her jaw. “My accountant got a notice from the IRS. Income on my return didn’t match what the insurance companies reported paying me.”

  “She was doctoring the 1099s.” The woman’s boldness bothered Carla.

  Jamie nodded.

  “I wish I’d been running your office,” Carla said, before she could stop herself.

  Jamie was silent, her expression guarded. “You should get going. You don’t want to be late for a first date.” Jamie stood and
shooed Carla out of the office.

  “Any last words of advice?” Carla asked as they walked to her car. “That blouse looks great on you, by the way.” The red silk gave Jamie a softer look than her usual starched Oxford shirts.

  “Lots of compliments is always a good idea.” Jamie laid her hand on Carla’s arm as she reached for the car door. “And remember, it’s about having fun.”

  Carla’s pulse quickened. “I remember.” Jamie nodded, and her eyes said she remembered, too. “Enjoy your dinner and tell Penni hi for me.”

  Carla hadn’t gone a block before angry tears filled her eyes. Why couldn’t she have the woman she wanted? By the time she got home it took a glass of wine and a stern lecture to herself not to call and cancel. The phone rang and she smiled. Of course he’d call.

  “Just called to make sure you weren’t backing out.” He knew her so well. “Wear that burgundy sweater that you fill out so nicely. And the heart pendant I gave you the day Lissa was born. For luck.”

  “I need it.” Carla twirled the glass of wine.

  “Your problem’s going to be that everyone will fall in love with you.”

  “Not the right everyone.” Carla looked out at the patio, at the garden she’d nurtured over the years. Would anyone share this home with her again?

  “I saw the way Jamie looked at you the other night.”

  “Mike—”

  “Go have some fun. Call me when you get home.”

  “What if I don’t come home?” With all the pent-up desire stuffed in every corner of her body, anything was possible.

  “Then be safe and call me in the morning. I love you.”

  Carla finished the wine and closed her eyes, waiting for it to take the edge of longing away. She needed to get over her feelings for Jamie. Walking to her bedroom she replayed how it had felt to dance with Vanessa. Maybe they’d go dancing tonight. Maybe they’d do more than dance.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The back door opened and Jamie looked up from the patient file on her desk as Penni bounded into her office in shorts and a yellow T-shirt with the name of her softball team across the front. “I thought we were going to dinner.” Penni set tennis shoes, shorts, and a T-shirt on the corner of the desk. Jamie held up the faded green A’s T-shirt. “These look like my—”

  “Stole them from your house. Just because I never use my key doesn’t mean I don’t still have it. Does Sheryl ever hang up her clothes? Like in the closet?”

  Jamie ignored the comment. Sheryl’s messiness irritated her, but weren’t relationships about compromise? “Practice isn’t until tomorrow.”

  “I have a surprise for you.” Penni’s smile couldn’t have been bigger as she pulled a softball glove from behind her back and tossed it to Jamie. “You’re our left fielder tonight.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Practice game.” Penni mimed swinging a bat. “Every year you say you’ll play with us. League starts in a few weeks.”

  Jamie picked up a file and waved it but she couldn’t keep her eyes off the glove.

  Penni took the file. “Come on. It’s Friday night.”

  Jamie almost laughed at Penni’s smug expression. It conveyed her enthusiastic don’t-take-no-for-an-answer attitude that Jamie had always loved. Would one night off hurt? She stared at the stack of files that didn’t look so tall when Carla was going through them with her. She wanted to throw them against the wall. “God, I’m sick of this mess.”

  “Which is why I’m kidnapping you.” Penni poked at the stack of files, and they fanned out across the desk. “You need something in your life besides these. One night. We need you.”

  “What you mean is half your team mutinied at having a game on a Friday night and you’ve resorted to kidnapping your friends.”

  “Well, if you insist on being particular.” Penni put her hands on her hips. “You know you want to,” she said, in a singsong voice.

  Jamie slipped the glove on and pounded her fist into the web. “Left field, huh?” When she wasn’t pitching she’d loved to play the outfield.

  “Where’s Carla? I was going to talk her into coming with us.”

  “She left.”

  “Call her and have her meet us at—”

  “She’s on a date,” Jamie said, taking off the glove and restacking the files.

  Penni was silent and the smile was gone. “Wow. That must have thrown you.”

  “Why would it?”

  “Cut the crap.” There was too much sympathy in Penni’s expression.

  “It’s no big deal, Penni. I even gave her dating advice.” Jamie shrugged and rubbed her neck. It was stiff, even though she’d let Sara work on her this afternoon.

  “I’ll bet that was some conversation.”

  “Why are you making a big deal out of this?”

  “Because I remember what you were like when you got back from Atlanta, what you said about—”

  “We’re friends. That’s it. Don’t make something out of this that isn’t there.”

  “You don’t have to yell.” Penni handed the clothes to her. “Go change.”

  Jamie marched to the bathroom with the clothes. She needed a night of fun. After changing, she walked through the clinic, checking that file cabinets were locked, computers and lights turned off. When she reached Carla’s office she saw the white sweater over the back of the chair. Forgotten again. Apparently she didn’t need it for her date. She jabbed at the light switch and the room went dark.

  *

  Jamie eyed the batter walking from the on-deck area, swinging two bats before tossing one to the ground. Clean-up hitter. She’d smacked one deep to left center last time up, and it had cost them two runs. Now it was the top of the seventh and they were tied. Jamie backed up even before Penni lifted the catcher’s mask from her face and waved the outfield back. Better to let her get a cheap single than a game-winning home run.

  Jamie wiped sweat off her face with the hem of her T-shirt. The front was streaked with dirt from her headfirst slide into second. She hadn’t hesitated, and not until she’d crossed the plate with the tying run had it occurred to her someone could have stepped on her hands. The instincts for the game were still there if the skills were a little rusty, but she hadn’t dropped a fly yet.

  She banged her fist into her glove and danced on the balls of her feet to stay loose as the batter stepped up to the plate. On the third pitch the woman tagged one to left. Jamie sprinted toward the foul line, gaining on the hard-hit ball as she neared the line. If she let it go it would be a foul ball. Jamie reached for a last burst of acceleration from her screaming quads and launched her body at the sinking ball. It landed in her glove and she squeezed it into the pocket as she hit the grass hard. She rolled and slammed into the chain-link fence.

  She was already on her feet, holding her glove up as her teammates crowded around her, a dozen versions of “Great catch” and “Are you all right?” tossed at her.

  Penni picked her up in a bear hug and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “Awesome.”

  “Eww. Sweaty,” Jamie said, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

  “Scared the shit out of me,” Penni said, as they jogged back to the dugout. “You don’t have to risk getting hurt.”

  “Didn’t even think,” Jamie said, trying to catch her breath. “God that felt great.” Teammates slapped her on the back and someone handed her a bottle of water.

  “I told you it would be fun.” Penni nudged her shoulder. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

  Jamie looked at her and cocked her head. “Do you want me to—” The first batter beat out an infield hit, and Jamie cheered with the rest of the team.

  “Where softball’s concerned,” Penni said. “Remember our final college game? I called for a change-up and you kept shaking me off?”

  Jamie would never forget that last game. “It was a full count and it’s not my most reliable pitch, and walking her would have brought the tying run home.”

&nbs
p; “But I promised to get you a date with the cute center fielder on the other team you’d been drooling over, if you’d trust me and throw that pitch?” Penni pumped her fist in the air as she said, “Strike-out, league champions, and one of the best dates of your life.” Penni bumped her hip. “You just need to trust me. Don’t I always know what’s best?”

  “You’re up, Jamie,” Lori called, from her spot coaching third base. “Winning run’s on second.” She pointed to the woman standing on the bag.

  “Show ’em your stuff,” Penni said.

  Jamie picked up the bat and wrung her hands around the taped handle. The woman on second was fast. A hit between the outfielders and she’d probably score. A part of herself she’d lost track of joined her as she walked to the plate. She was breathing hard and sweat trickled down her back, and she was happier than she’d been in a long time.

  The second pitch was a waist-high dream pitch, and she sent a line drive over the shortstop’s head. As she sprinted to first base she watched it slice between the outfielders and roll toward the fence. Rounding first she pumped her legs hard for second. The outfielder picked it up and pegged a hard throw to home, but her teammate crossed the plate a step before the ball landed in the catcher’s glove. Jamie jumped up and down as her teammates ran out and huddled around her, congratulating her on the game-winning hit. It was just a practice slow-pitch game, but Jamie was elated.

  After shaking hands with the other team, they collected their gear and tossed themselves on the grass under the shade of a tree, guzzling waters, unlacing shoes, talking in that post-game chatter Jamie loved.

  “Don’t take your shoes off, yet,” Penni said, pulling her to her feet. “I want to see if you can still pitch.”

  “I’ve been pitching to the kids at practice.”