“Seven angry voice mails and fourteen texts and then I see you at the restaurant.”
“So,” she said, throwing her shoulders back indignantly and lifting her chin. “Let’s talk about that! You were too busy for me but you were there with a woman! A very attractive woman!”
“That was Darcy Masters, a sales rep from the Philligan Neurological Institute, talking to me about a new state-of-the-art microsurgical robot. We’ve had the appointment for months and have had trouble getting together. I kept her waiting for a couple of hours and told her the only time I had was a break between surgeries but I was starving. She offered to buy my dinner if I’d fit her in. I had to go right back to the hospital.”
“Oh. Well, I was just getting some dinner on the way home...”
“You’re sure you didn’t make a special trip?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said, but her cheeks flushed with the lie.
“We have a problem,” he said. “Rather, I believe you have a problem and it’s affecting me in a very negative way.”
“What are you talking about?” she said, giving her hair a toss.
“Seven messages and fourteen texts, getting more sarcastic and angry by the minute, that’s what I’m talking about! It’s insane.”
“Okay, I won’t do that again.”
“You won’t do it to me again,” he said. “This is where we say goodbye.”
“What? Just because we have a slight difference of opinion? We’re just getting to know each other!”
“And in such a short period of time you’ve managed to make me feel like a caged animal. Like a stalked and captured prey. Listen, I’m going to do you a favor here.” He stood and reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to her. “Do yourself a favor and give this guy a call. He’s very good. He’s helped me and a couple of friends. He gets very high marks for taking on big egos and disbelievers.”
She looked at the card. She laughed out loud. Thomas Norton, PhD, Bradford Institute of Psychotherapy. Counselor. “My father was a psychologist,” she flung at him. “Believe me, if there was a problem—”
“And the cobbler’s children have no shoes,” he said. “Suit yourself. But I think you could benefit from a little assistance.”
“If I agree to see this guy, can we try again?”
“Absolutely not,” he said. “I know better than to get into a toxic relationship.”
“Toxic! How dare you say that to me!”
“Can I make a suggestion?” he asked.
“I don’t think so!” she snapped.
“Get together with some of your family and closest friends,” he went on, ignoring her. “Ask them if there’s been a problem communicating or understanding each other. Feel free to use our relationship as an example—I told you I’d be back in five days but would be tied up for a day or two longer, catching up on work and surgery here. It all worked out exactly that way and yet you somehow felt slighted and ignored. Ask the people you’re closest to if they have experienced this kind of disconnect. Get help. You don’t have to live like this.”
“But, Patrick! You’re done with me?”
“Yes, Jess. You’re in trouble. You may have a personality disorder. A lot of beautiful young women think it’s just part of looking for the right guy, but it’s more serious than that. You’re demanding and abusive.”
“That’s not true!”
“Sadly, it’s totally accurate.”
She felt herself crumbling. “I bought us a pizza,” she said, a catch in her voice. “Your favorite kind.”
“Think about yourself for a while,” he said. “Put yourself first. You don’t have to live with disappointment. Nor do you really want a man who is constantly bent to your demands. Believe me, it wouldn’t last. Talk to someone. Get help.”
“I’m a doctor!” she said, shouting. “I’m a busy doctor! And my father was a therapist! I don’t need help!”
“Being a doctor is no pass,” he said. “Trust me, I know that from firsthand experience. Doctors are as messed up as anyone. In fact, for some, with the pressure they’re under, they’re even more vulnerable. And sadly, least likely to ask for help. Do yourself a favor. Don’t be that doctor.”
“Patrick, I had a bad week! Be fair!”
“This has nothing to do with fairness, Jess. You are one giant red flag. Staying with you now would only make things worse for both of us.” He stopped at the door and threw her a wan smile. “Here’s to better days for you.”
And he left.
Anna found a renewed source of energy in her nights with Joe. Although her office was flooded with work, she felt somehow better equipped to handle it. She might have been mentally reluctant to move in a new direction, with a new man, but she found talking to Joe almost daily and spending a night or two a week with him gave her a sense of comfort and well-being. And confidence. It was amazing what being intimate did for the nervous system.
But she didn’t tell anyone. Not even Phoebe, who she could trust to keep a secret if there was a secret to be kept.
“I’m just a very private person,” she told Joe. “I’m used to not talking about my private life.”
“You aren’t afraid the kids will give you trouble, are you?” he asked.
“The kids love you,” she said. “I’m not sure that’s the same thing as approving of me sleeping with you. Chad has been gone for six months. That’s not a long time.”
“Ah,” he said. “You’re waiting for their approval?”
“No! I think there’s a secret widows or divorcées handbook that specifies the length of time that’s appropriate. And I think it’s longer than six months.”
“Is it longer for widows or divorcées?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I just know that anything in an elected official’s private life can be overscrutinized. But that’s the half of it. My kids are a little unstable. I’m not sure where they are in dealing with their father’s death. The last time I talked to them Jessie was angry, Mike was brokenhearted and Bess was coping in her own way by not feeling anything. But Bess has a man in her life now and I want to meet him and see if he’s right for her. And there’s the small matter of finding out if I have a brother. I sent in one of those DNA kits and have signed up online for their search program.”
“And have you talked to Amy lately?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I went by her house one afternoon and held Gina. Amy woke her to lift her into my arms. She’s so sweet. Amy goes back to work in a week and there will be a nanny. Not a live-in nanny but a woman in the neighborhood. Amy assures me that I can stop by, with notice, to see Gina, whenever I like.”
“You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” Mike said. “Your family fell apart with Chad’s death and now you’re trying to reconstruct it.”
“And it is completely unrecognizable!” she said. “And I keep looking for you in the family picture and I’m not sure where you are!”
“Why don’t we just not worry about that for a while. No one suspects I’m anything but a family friend and there’s no worry about making it more at this time. Anna, what you and I have found, it’s okay if it’s just about us. It’s only been a few weeks that our status has changed. Well, except for one thing...”
“What one thing?” she asked.
“I love you,” he said. “That’s not a big change. I think I’ve always loved you.”
Anna loved him, as well, but she merely smiled in return. She wasn’t ready to commit, though she felt in her bones that this was somehow meant to be.
About once a week, Anna would either work from home and Joe would come to her or she would leave the courthouse a bit early and go to Palo Alto and spend an evening and night with him. They did this without changing their habits as far as their families knew. If Anna got a call from one of her kids, she’d chat for a while, claim evening and early-morning meetings. “We’re desperate to catch up on cases that have been postponed over and over so do me a favor and give me some notice if you want to get together. My whole office has been working a crazy schedule.” Joe talked to his son, an Oakland firefighter, a lot but saw him only about once or twice a month, and Melissa, his daughter, he tried to visit in Bodega Bay at least once a month.
The rest of the time belonged to Joe and Anna...and their jobs, which were quite demanding. They each traveled back and forth to work and each other’s homes with files and laptops and iPads. They learned how to make stacks of work material on each other’s dining tables and countertops. Work that usually went ignored as they concentrated on each other.