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  She grabbed the phone and quickly glanced at the screen. A glance was all she needed to recognize the photo of a woman in an oversized sombrero holding an equally gargantuan margarita. The caller ID above the photo said Sydney Garza. She smiled. The shot was two years old and taken on a mother-daughter trip to San Juan a few years ago. Her mother hated the picture, which of course was why she’d kept it for so long.

  She swiped her finger across the screen and said, “Hello, Syd.”

  “Hey babe,” Syd said over the background noise of city traffic. “I just wanted to call and wish you good luck on your first day of work. When do you start?”

  “I actually started about an hour ago.”

  “Oh shit. I didn’t mean to call you at work. I didn’t think you’d possibly accept a job that required you to be up before 10:00.”

  “I didn’t have a lot of choice.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have answered your phone at the office. Those small-town business people still get kind of huffy about modern technology.”

  She rolled her eyes. “How many small-town business people do you know?”

  “A few.” She laughed lightly. “And by ‘a few,’ I mean I see them on TV.”

  “Yeah, well you may actually know more than I do. My boss was only here for a hot minute before she left in a huff.”

  “Who’d she leave in charge?”

  “No one. I mean, me, I guess.” She looked around as if someone else might be lurking in the building, despite knowing otherwise. “I’m the only one here.”

  “What?”

  “She, this Kelly woman, got a phone call and said I could stay or go, then she ran out.”

  “Elliot,” Syd’s mom voice emerged quickly. “That’s not normal. Who leaves their business in the middle of the morning with a new person on board? I think your boss is a meth head.”

  Elliot shook her head. “Not again.”

  “No, I am serious. I read a book called Methland. It’s an epidemic in rural areas.”

  “I know, I know. You’ve told me several times.” She’d also pointed out several suspected meth heads last time she’d come to visit.

  “Also heroin use is on the rise all over. She probably got a call from her dealer. Or maybe she is a dealer. Does she have a lot of bling around the office?”

  “No. My boss is not a drug kingpin. Really, if you could see her, I mean … she’s like, squeaky clean and stoic and very waspy.”

  “That’s the ones you have to watch out for. The media always tries to convince you it’s the minorities, but that’s to uphold the hegemony.”

  “I know, Mother.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Then stop being paranoid. My new boss is …” She couldn’t think of the right word. “Odd, maybe.”

  “Is she homely?” Syd asked, then rushed to justify her comment against her feminist sensibilities. “Not that a woman should be judged by her looks, but meth users are usually pallid and drawn, and they have bad teeth. Does your boss have bad teeth?”

  “No,” she said automatically, then realized she hadn’t actually seen Kelly’s teeth. She hadn’t smiled, not really. The corners of her mouth may have twitched up a time or two before Beth left, but most of the time her mouth formed a firm line. But still, she was definitely not homely. She had a sharp-edged kind of beauty that could take a person’s breath away under the right circumstances.

  “Is she underweight?”

  “Well, she’s pretty thin, but she’s long and lanky, kind of leggy, so it’s probably just her body type.”

  “Uh-huh,” Syd said knowingly. “Does she have dark circles under her eyes?”

  “Now that you mention it—”

  “See? There’s a pattern. What about hair loss?”

  “No,” she said quickly, then smiled. “She’s actually got really gorgeous hair, long and thick and black as night, not a city night either. Like nights out here, vast, dark, and shimmering with starlight.”

  “Oh no, Elliot.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t hit on this woman.” The mom voice returned.

  “I didn’t hit on her.”

  “Yet?”

  “No. It’s not like that. She’s totally unapproachable. She’s got this ice queen vibe, very severe, and she can barely look at me.”

  “Who wouldn’t want to look at you? You’re stunning.”

  She shook her head. “Moms always think their kids are stunning.”

  “Please, when have I ever done anything like other mothers?”

  She had a point there, but that didn’t make her right about anything else. “Kelly’s not the least bit interested in me. She’s straight as a pin in every way and not my type at all.”

  “She’s leggy and stoic with long, dark hair you’re practically writing poetry about.”

  “Okay, so physically she’s totally my type, but that’s all. She’s sharp. She’s scattered. She’s guarded. And she’s a second-generation, small-town CPA. The business is seriously called Rolen and Rolen. What do you want to bet it was supposed to be Rolen and Sons?”

  “Well, that does make me feel better. If anything turns you off, it’s submission to the patriarchy.”

  She laughed outright. From meth heads to political resistance, her conversations with Syd always ran the gamut.

  “Wait, she’s not a homophobe, is she?”

  Elliot’s chest tightened again. “I, um, well, the thought crossed my mind, but she seems to be friends with Beth. Or friendly. Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know. The vibe was weird, but not mean.” She remembered again the looks between them, guarded, almost wounded, but somehow caring. “Hard to read and harder to explain.”

  “Oh no, is this some love-the-sinner-hate-the-sin bullshit?” Syd’s voice grew maternal once more. “I don’t want you working in a place where you’re not safe emotionally anymore than I’d want you to work for a meth head.”

  “Well, that can’t be helped. I’m going to run into homophobes in my life.”

  “You’d run into fewer of them in a city than you would down there among the children of the corn.”

  Elliot shook her head. She couldn’t have this conversation again. Neither of them needed that kind of doubt right now. “I can handle myself. People have been pretty good down here so far. I mean, most of the time.”

  “Please notice how quick you were to assure me your boss wasn’t on meth and how you’ve yet to deny she might be a raging homophobe.”

  She had a point. “I don’t know if she’s some born-again nutcase or even a run-of-the-mill bigot, but I can deal with whatever I’ll have to deal with, whenever I have to deal with it. I had a strong female role model while growing up.”

  “Damn, you always have an answer for everything.”

  “Yeah, which is why you should just stop arguing with me. That, and also I better get back to work.”

  “Okay.” Syd sighed. “What are you even doing?”

  “Scanning.” Elliot’s sigh echoed her mother’s. “Endless amounts of scanning.”

  “Isn’t that a little below your skillset?”

  “Yeah, well she didn’t exactly let me finish talking about my skillset, but I don’t think it would’ve changed anything if she had. I get the feeling I’m going to have to prove my worth.”

  “Then I hope your meth head, bigoted boss is lucid enough to have her mind blown, because you’re worth your weight in platinum and twice as rare.”

  She laughed. “That’s such a mom thing to say.”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Bye.” Elliot pushed the end call button on her phone and slipped it back into her pocket. She glanced around the drab office once more. The place was so quiet. So sterile. So void. She didn’t do well in stillness. It creeped her out. But she replayed her conversation with Syd as she resumed scanning her stack of receipts for everything from cattle vaccines to sewing bobbins. She smiled at her mo
ther’s predictions of Kelly’s likely drug addiction one minute while warning her off a romantic attraction to her the next, right before jumping to conclusions about Kelly’s raging homophobia. She would’ve worried about her mother’s assumption that she could fall so easily for an anti-gay drug lord if not for the pride in her voice as she declared her worth. And Syd was right. She was a strong, driven, independent woman. She didn’t need her mom to affirm those traits. Technically, she didn’t need anyone’s affirmation, but that didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate having it.

  Chapter Four

  “I wish I had more to tell you. The brain is a complex organ. There are more factors at play here than we can even begin to comprehend.” The dark eyes regarding hers were kind and concerned. “I promise I’ll look into a few things and get back to you if I find anything helpful.”

  “Thank you, Doctor Patel,” Kelly said, shaking the hand of her former schoolmate. The act made her feel old and helpless. Kelsey Patel may have been a brilliant physician, but she was two years younger than her. When had their generation taken over things as weighty as life and death? Where were the older, wiser leaders to guide them?

  She turned to her father, his limp form seeming smaller and more frail than ever amid the tubes and monitors. She had spent years wanting to be like him, wanting to be his equal. Wanting to inspire trust and confidence and a sense of security. She’d gone so far as to pretend to be all of those things her entire life in the hope that her steadfast adherence to the vision would bend reality. Standing here, looking down on the man who taught her everything she knew about what she wanted most to be, she understood the full magnitude of her fraud.

  She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to fix the problems facing them now. She couldn’t will him to wake up. She couldn’t work her way into his brain and make the connections for him. She couldn’t find his words or his will to go on. She couldn’t save him, not through wit or strength or stubbornness. She wasn’t even sure she could save herself without him.

  “Kelly, do you have someone to talk to?” Kelsey’s voice was quiet, soothing, but she still startled at the sound of it. She’d forgotten Doctor Patel was still in the room.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m sure,” Kelsey said seriously. “It’s just, strokes involve a long-term recovery process. There are people who specialize in the physical aspects and rehab, but there are also specialists for the emotional toll a stroke can take both on the patient and their caregivers.”

  She clenched her teeth and her fists, then tried to slowly release them. “I don’t need a therapist.”

  “Right, but is there someone in your life? A friend, a partner?”

  “I’m not married.” Her face flushed. She didn’t want to dodge these questions, not now. She didn’t ever enjoy the task, but especially not here, not with her nerves so raw and her father so close. Some people believed patients could hear things or sense them even when they weren’t conscious. She didn’t believe them, but she didn’t take chances. Not ever.

  “A friend, then? I know you were close with Beth and Rory. What about Stevie and Jody?”

  She winced. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

  Kelsey’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure what you think I’ve implied.”

  “You listed a bunch of … a bunch of …” She couldn’t even say the word in front of her father.

  Kelsey had no such problem. “Lesbians? Oh no, I didn’t mean to imply anything salacious. Honestly, I forget people find gay couples salacious.”

  Dr. Patel shook her head sadly, and Kelly felt a new kind of shame. This time it burned her chest instead of her face. She was assumed to be either a lesbian or a homophobe, and she honestly didn’t know which felt worse. No, that wasn’t true. She knew which one she’d chosen repeatedly, but she still didn’t like the way the choice made her stomach roil.

  “I only meant that I remember you being close with Beth after high school. I know she and Rory are close with Stevie and Jody,” Kelsey continued. “They’re a good group of women, smart and thoughtful. I see them for dinner every few months, and I always feel better afterwards. I have a stressful job with a lot of responsibility, and surrounding myself with good people goes a long way toward healing parts of myself that would never show up on an X-ray or CT-scan.”

  Her heart hurt, a dull ache in her chest, but she set her jaw against the pain. She exhaled through to a point where she could speak. “You’re out of line, Dr. Patel. My personal life isn’t the purview of anyone in this hospital. I’m not the patient here. I’d appreciate it if you’d focus on my father.”

  Kelsey nodded sadly. “If you change your mind, I’m in town every second and fourth Wednesday of the month, and I’m always open to consult.”

  Kelly didn’t respond. She stayed facing her father until Kelsey left the room, then she sank into the chair beside the bed. She didn’t need any help. She might need sleep or food or a few Advil, but she could get those things herself. She didn’t need Kelsey Patel, or even worse, Rory and her cadre of lesbians to step into her family’s business.

  Her family business. The office. Elliot.

  She eyed her dad’s sleeping form. He seemed peaceful amid her turmoil. Why couldn’t she just talk to him? He would tell her she was being hysterical, overly dramatic. He would remind her they had work to do, and tax season waited for no man. He would chastise her for leaving the office in the hands of someone else, someone they didn’t even know.

  Her heart beat faster as she felt herself being torn between the desire to stand guard over him and the knowledge that he’d rather she take care of the business he’d built. She shouldn’t have to choose between the man she idolized and the legacy he cherished, but she knew if the choice were his, he’d send her back to work, and he’d expect her to do so with a lot more command than she had this morning.

  She thought about kissing him on the forehead before going, but the act would likely embarrass them both, so she merely patted his hand and whispered, “I’ll be back tonight,” just in case those hippie subconscious believers were right.

  The clock on the dash of the Buick she’d inherited from her father read 1:30. Between the nurses and waiting for the primary physician and the consult with Dr. Patel, she’d been away from the office for over three hours. She fought down the bile in her throat at the thought of all the things that could’ve gone wrong and tried not to imagine angry clients, IRS investigations, or the entire building going up in flames. God, she’d been so wracked with fear when she left. The full impact of what she’d done hadn’t sunk in until this moment.

  “Please, God,” she prayed quietly, “I promise I won’t do this again. Just please don’t let anything have gone wrong. Please let Elliot just have gone home.”

  She turned the corner just before she reached the town square and pulled her land boat into the narrow alley behind her office. If only Elliot had bolted at her first chance of escape, everything would be okay. She wouldn’t have had the chance to mess up. Kelly could call Beth immediately and tell her this arrangement wouldn’t work. She could fire her or fail her or whatever she had to do to get her office, her sanctuary, the better part of her life under her control.

  She strode quickly to the office door that only people in the know would ever use. “Please, just let her be gone,” Kelly prayed one more time as she pushed into the office that felt so much like her home.

  “Hi,” Elliot said with a polite smile as Kelly froze in the doorway. “Welcome back.”

  Kelly blinked her dark eyes a few times as if adjusting to the lights, or maybe to her presence. Her shoulders were tight and her expression void except for the thin, pressed line of her mouth. Kelly seemed almost startled to see her, despite the fact that she was still standing in exactly the same spot where she’d been when Kelly had left.

  “You’re still here.”

  “Yep.”

  “It’s been hours.”

  Thanks, Captain Obvious
. “A few.”

  “Have you been here the whole time?”

  “All except for that twenty minutes when I went to knock off the liquor store.” She regretted the comment immediately as the creases on Kelly’s forehead grew deeper. “I’m kidding. I barely stopped scanning since you left. I got so deep into work mode, I barely noticed the time.”

  “Barely?”

  “What?”

  “You said you barely stopped scanning.”

  God, what was with this woman? Did she intend to pick her apart like a vulture with a carcass? “I stopped at one point to go to the bathroom. Thanks for leaving that door unlocked, by the way. And then I stopped because a lovely old lady came in to grill me about her taxes. ‘Mrs. Anthony’ I believe she instructed me to call her.”

  “Damn it.” Kelly swore, and somehow the word sounded downright scandalous coming out of her mouth. “She’s a very difficult client.”

  “I sort of got that from her. When she saw me instead of you, you would have thought she’d stepped into a leper colony. She even got a dig in about my suspenders being rather ‘mannish.’ ”

  Kelly used both hands to rub her temples. “Please tell me you told her to come back later.”

  “I mentioned that option.”

  “But?”

  “But she said if I intended to work in a CPA office during tax season, I’d better learn to handle your forms.”

  Kelly might have actually swayed a little bit under the weight of the realization that Elliot had actually interacted with one of her clients. Elliot enjoyed her fear a little more than she probably should have. Served her right for her little comment about learning to use a scanner— not to mention her blatant distrust— but the woman had clearly had a bad day, so she cut her a little slack and picked up the folder currently beside the scanner. “Don’t worry. I found your client organizers on the front desk and walked her though all the questions. She had her papers pretty well in order, so I assembled everything into her file and labeled it like the others I’d already scanned.”