Never Too Late Page 4

  “Maybe you should consider going back to work.”

  “Maybe.” Carla sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed the bedspread. “I hate this bed made.” After a heartbeat of silence they both burst out laughing. “Maybe I should turn this into a sewing room.”

  Mike pulled her to her feet and kissed her cheek. “You don’t sew.”

  “I know, but isn’t that what middle-aged women without daughters or husbands do? Take up a hobby?” Carla rearranged the pictures on the dresser.

  “Give yourself time. You can’t decide the rest of your life in a day.”

  “I know we’re doing the right thing, but I’m scared. What if Lissa doesn’t take our divorce well? What if she hates us for it?”

  “She won’t. We’ll pull each other through it,” he said, taking her hand.

  “Everything I thought was my life is ending. I don’t know how to start over.”

  “It’s kind of funny, though, isn’t it?” Mike tried to keep a straight face. “If we’d been more…I don’t know…self-aware or honest with each other, we might have figured out sooner that we’re both gay.”

  “Better late than never, I guess.”

  “Are you going to start dating?”

  “Oh, good heavens, no. I can’t imagine falling in love at my age.”

  “You’re a hopeless romantic, honey. Someone will sweep you off your feet.”

  Carla laughed when Mike took her in his arms and danced her around the room. They were a perfect fit in all ways but one. Sex had always been loving and gentle between them, but never passionate in the way Carla yearned for. She hadn’t told him the specifics of how she knew she was a lesbian at heart. One night, but it had profoundly changed her, and she’d never forgotten it.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s not sit around and sulk. You go for a run and I’ll get the barbecue ready.”

  “Come with me.”

  It was after eleven when they blew out the candles on the patio table, set the coffeemaker for the next morning, and said good night with a long hug outside Carla’s bedroom.

  Mike had been sleeping in the guest room for most of the last year under the guise that his snoring kept Carla awake. Both had wanted some private space to begin the transition to their new lives.

  After a long bath, Carla crawled into bed. She didn’t like sleeping alone and wondered if she’d ever share this bed again. Picking up the romance novel from the nightstand, she settled back against the pillows and let herself be carried away.

  Chapter Three

  “Dr. Hammond, what do you want me to do about the new patient? She insists on seeing you.” Her receptionist’s long brown hair framed a face that looked frazzled. The phone rang and then went to voice mail because another call was on hold. “There just aren’t any openings.”

  “We’ll work it out.” Jamie had two excellent associate doctors in the practice, but having new patients insist on being treated by her was all too common. Handing the patient file across the front counter to her receptionist, Jamie said to her patient, “Remember to do your exercises. We have to get some strength in your lower back or this will keep happening.” She’d have a lot fewer problems if she lost thirty pounds and did her exercises, but Jamie had learned that people had to make their own decisions. She did her best to encourage them.

  “Is she acute?” Jamie walked behind the counter and looked at the appointment book. The schedule was even busier than usual because of the holiday weekend. Nothing about her practice was easy these days.

  “Says she can barely walk.”

  “She’s not exaggerating.”

  Jamie looked up. Renee Rapp was standing at the counter, all five foot two of her. “We had dinner last night. You need to see her today, Jamie.”

  “Far be it from me to argue with you,” Jamie said. When Renee’s eyes held hers she knew there was more.

  “Fund-raiser next month for the Women Mentoring Women Foundation. Second Saturday. I want you there.”

  “Renee—”

  “No argument. I’ll give you a reprieve for a while considering what you’re dealing with, but then I’m pairing you up with someone.” Renee held up her hand when Jamie started to protest. “You’re a smart businesswoman, Jamie.”

  Not so smart, but Renee wasn’t one to argue with. “Can I see her during my lunch?” Jamie asked her receptionist.

  “No,” Betty piped in, popping her head out of her office. “You have an interview.” Short gray hair framed a grandmotherly face and the unusually stern gaze brooked no argument. Betty had been her father’s patient and filled in over the years if Jamie needed office help. She’d gamely agreed to act as office manager until Jamie found a replacement.

  “How optimistic are you about this one?”

  “I don’t know,” Betty said, shaking her head. “We’re getting plenty of applications, but doesn’t anyone have a brain any more? Or common sense? Or phone sense?”

  “Schedule the new patient for the second half of my lunch break,” Jamie said to her receptionist. “It sounds like it’ll be a short interview.”

  “I’m sorry, Jamie, but I can’t do this forever.” Betty took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Frank packed the motor home over the weekend. He’s getting cranky about delaying our trip. And you know I don’t have the right skills. Every time I touch this darn computer I’m terrified it’ll explode because I hit the wrong key. You need a real office manager.”

  “I’m scared of the same thing,” Jamie said to Betty. Buffering her staff from her business problems was getting harder the longer this mess went on. But none of this was their fault, and Jamie wasn’t going to pass any of the stress on to them.

  “You’ll get through this,” Renee said, as they walked down the hallway to a treatment room.

  Renee was one of the few patients who knew what was going on. They talked as Jamie adjusted her, and then she hustled on to her next patient. Getting behind schedule this early in the day would be a disaster.

  “You got my shoulder working good again, Doc,” the elderly man with stubble on his cheeks said as he hoisted his arm over his head.

  “Now don’t go letting your new puppy pull on it,” Jamie said after adjusting him. Half of her patients could prevent their problems with a little common sense, but as her father always said, “It’s our job to make sure they don’t suffer for their lapses in judgment.” He’d be tremendously disappointed in her lapse in good judgment that now jeopardized the practice he’d built.

  Marci, her chiropractic assistant, met her as she was leaving the treatment room. “Your next patient is in treatment room three. I put heat on her neck and did some passive range-of-motion stretching.”

  “Perfect.”

  “I talked to my sister, Dr. Hammond. She’s got time to help you out part-time with the bookkeeping.”

  “It’s not your problem,” Jamie said, more sharply than she’d intended. She reached up and squeezed Marci’s shoulder. She’d been a patient and basketball star at Santa Clara University and was her right hand with patient treatment. “I’ll work it out.”

  She had to, for the sake of her relationship, and the patients who depended on her for care, and the staff who depended on her for jobs. “I’m trying, Dad,” she whispered to herself.

  *

  Alone in her office as her staff headed off to lunch, Jamie turned on the iPod on the credenza behind her desk. She was still in one of what Penni called her “Melissa moods,” brought on by the concert last month at The Mountain Winery. It had been a magical night with Penni, her wife Lori, and a group of friends—one thing they still made time for in the midst of careers and kids. It was fun to pretend they were still young, screaming for their favorite rock star. If Sheryl had come it would have been a perfect evening.

  “Got a minute?” Don Walker, one of Jamie’s associate doctors, was standing in the doorway.

  “Sure.”

  Don lowered his beanpole frame into the chair across the
desk from Jamie. “Do you think I’m a good doctor?”

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t know, Jamie…I thought I did a good job with several patients last week, but they’re not any better today. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.” Don fidgeted with the pen in the pocket of his white clinic coat. “Maybe I should have gone into computers like my dad wanted.”

  “Nonsense,” Jamie said. “Never doubt yourself. Patients place their trust in us, and we have to inspire confidence—” She stopped. That was her father’s answer whenever she voiced any doubts. His dismissive attitude had hurt. She rubbed her forehead and took a deep breath. “You’re one of the best associates I’ve had, Don. It took me…oh, about ten years to gain enough confidence to not panic every time a patient didn’t get well right away.”

  “I find that hard to believe. You make it look easy.”

  “Trust me. I came out of chiropractic school as unsure of myself as you. Confidence takes time and experience. Be patient with yourself.”

  Don looked relieved as he stood. “Thanks, Jamie. I needed that. Sorry I bothered you.”

  “I want you to come to me with your concerns. Give this a fair try. If you’re not happy in a few years, go do something else.”

  Jamie rested her elbows on the desk and ran her hands through her hair. Sheryl wanted her to color it, but Jamie liked the gray that was showing at her temples. She was forty-five and wasn’t going to apologize for her age. She’d look for tickets to a concert Sheryl would like. Or maybe a pair of earrings like the ones she liked in Carmel. She needed to make sure Sheryl knew how much she loved her.

  Betty opened the door. “The applicant’s here.”

  “Show her back.” Jamie rolled down the sleeves on her pink Oxford shirt and buttoned the cuffs.

  “I’ll bring you a sandwich. Do you want your usual?”

  “Sure. And—”

  “Iced tea. I know.” Betty held up her hand, fingers crossed.

  Jamie stood, ready to greet the woman she hoped would be her new office manager. Fifteen minutes later she was all too willing to tell the woman who chattered like a parakeet that she had another appointment. The choices must be dismal if Betty brought this one in for an interview.

  She rubbed over her face, forcing back the fear and frustration. Shoving out of the chair that creaked its age, she steeled her resolve. She’d gotten herself into this mess; she’d have to get herself out. Her father always said you reap what you sow. When had she sown the seeds of this disaster?

  *

  Jamie set the stack of patient files on the coffee table and sat down on the brown leather couch in her office, tired and hungry after a long day. Her father had brought it with him from his old office, and right now she felt about as old and worn as it looked. Had it really been almost twenty years since his death? Sitting where he’d sat gave her a sense of comfort, but she actually needed his wisdom.

  She clenched her jaw. Everything he’d worked for was in jeopardy. Why had Marjorie embezzled from her? Hadn’t she treated her with the same regard her father had shown his office manager, Mary? What would Mary think of her daughter’s behavior? It just didn’t make sense.

  She should be home having dinner with Sheryl instead of trying to figure out how a trusted employee committed insurance fraud and stole from her for God knew how long. She grabbed the top file. The only way to reconstruct what Marjorie had done was to match the treatments she’d billed for against what treatments had actually been done. She’d need to go through the files for every insurance patient as far back as she still had them.

  The insurance companies were acting as if she’d approved of the fraud, and their lack of cooperation was making it harder. Too many files she’d looked at didn’t have EOBs in them, and without copies she had nothing to compare the treatments against.

  She checked her watch. Seven o’clock. One more hour. Then she’d go home and curl up on the couch with Sheryl and watch the worst adventure movie they could find.

  Chapter Four

  “Breakfast in bed.” Jamie frowned as she walked into the bedroom carrying the tray with cappuccinos, fat-free yogurt, and fruit. Sheryl had been asleep ten minutes ago. Now the shower was on, and she was booming out one of the country songs she loved. Jamie set the tray on the bed.

  Opening the shower door she let her eyes wander over Sheryl’s body. She felt guilty for missing those extra curves, but she had to admit Sheryl looked great. “I thought we’d have breakfast in bed and pick up where we left off last night.” Jamie had surprised Sheryl with tickets to a sold-out George Strait concert. Thank-you kisses had led to making love.

  “Cold air.” Sheryl closed the shower door. “I’m meeting people for brunch. I told you. Did you make cappuccinos?”

  Was her memory that bad? “Um, yeah.” Jamie scooted Sheryl’s makeup jars to the side and perched on the edge of the gray marble vanity with double sinks, last year’s remodel.

  “You make the best cappuccinos.”

  “You could, too. You wanted the Gaggia because it was easy to use.”

  “It’s more fun if you make them.” Sheryl stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. Jamie wanted to peel it off her and carry her back to bed, but once Sheryl showered it was impossible to get her back in the mood. Shouldn’t have fixed those blasted cappuccinos.

  She followed Sheryl to the bedroom and handed her a cup. “How about a movie this afternoon, and then I’ll take you to that new restaurant you’ve been talking about.” Sheryl dropped the towel on a chair and disappeared into the walk-in closet, also part of last year’s remodel. If Sheryl’s new interest in clothes kept up they’d have to expand it again.

  “I’m going shopping this afternoon, and that restaurant’s in Los Gatos.”

  There went her great day. Jamie sat on the bed and downed half of her cappuccino. “It’s dinner, not making out in the park.”

  Sheryl peeked out of the closet and glared at her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “It’s a small community, and I just don’t need people knowing about my personal life. You said you understood.”

  “I’ve always respected your feelings, but it just seems like…I don’t know…that we’ve stopped doing some of the things that used to be a big part of our social life.” Jamie listened to Sheryl pulling drawers open in the closet. She’d always been more conservative than Jamie when it came to being out as a lesbian. They’d talked about it a lot their first year of dating and worked out compromises that satisfied them both. “You won’t go to concerts with me any more, and we can’t do anything in Los Gatos, and we’ve stopped going out with a lot of our friends—”

  “I don’t want to go to Melissa Etheridge concerts, and there are a million restaurants we can go to that aren’t in Los Gatos. Our friends were always your friends, and I want my own.” Sheryl appeared in the doorway to the closet, her serious expression at odds with her lacy panties and bra. “You were handed your business in your twenties, Jamie. I’m thirty-five and I deserve this promotion. I’m not taking any chances this time.”

  “I know and I want you to be happy.” Sheryl held up two blouses and Jamie pointed to the gold sleeveless one. It picked up the highlights in her hair. Sheryl tossed the other one on top of the towel on the chair. “How about if I grill halibut for dinner?”

  “And make the papaya salsa you did last time?”

  “Yep. And I’ll get that Chardonnay you like.” Jamie walked over and wrapped her arms around Sheryl. Her body was warm and smelled like the lotion that matched her new perfume. The one she’d worn for years was sweet and tropical, and Jamie loved it. This one was sharp and tangy and not her favorite. When Sheryl went to the bathroom and started what Jamie called her makeup process, she carried the breakfast tray back to the kitchen.

  Jamie fixed herself another cappuccino and took it to the glass-topped table on the patio. Might as well get a caffeine buzz. The patio around the rectangular pool
was cluttered with the furniture Sheryl had seen in a magazine and ordered before they moved in so they could entertain in style. She could count on one hand the number of parties they’d had.

  Putting on her sunglasses, she stared at the pool, thinking back to the hot June day when the realtor had shown them the house. Sheryl had slipped off her shoes, rolled up her pants, and sat on the edge dangling her feet in the water in a childlike gesture that melted Jamie’s heart. “I always wanted a house with a pool,” she’d said. “Our rich cousins had one, and they made fun of us because we didn’t.”

  That’s the moment Jamie decided she could live with moving out of the house her parents had left her if it made Sheryl happy. Leaving behind so many memories had been harder than she’d thought, especially the memories of all the good times with her mom. She’d comforted herself with the certainty she was doing the right thing. After all, hadn’t her father made sacrifices to ensure her mom’s happiness?

  “I’ll see you later,” Sheryl said from the doorway, looking good enough to eat in the blouse and yellow capris. “What are you doing today?”

  “I’ll probably go in to the office.” Jamie looked longingly at the pool. Running and swimming had both been sacrificed since finding out about the embezzling.

  “I appreciate how hard you’re working to get your problem fixed.”

  “Do you remember when we first saw this house? You said you always wanted a pool?”

  “I did? I don’t remember, but it adds value to the house.”

  “Value? Yeah, I guess. But are you happy here?”

  “For now. If I get that promotion we can look for something bigger.”

  How much bigger did two people need, Jamie wondered as she watched Sheryl walk back to the house in heels that were way too high.

  *

  “Thanks for letting us crash your pool. This heat wave is crazy.” Penni handed Jamie an iced tea and sat on the chaise next to her. “God, she’s beautiful. Am I lucky or what?”