Never Too Late (6 page)

“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?”

“You got everything you wanted,” Jamie said watching Penni’s wife, Lori, frolicking in the pool with their two kids. Jamie drank greedily. Penni made perfect iced tea—just the right mix of lemon and sugar.

“Speaking of beloveds…dare I ask where yours is?”

“Shopping.”

“Again?” Penni’s eyebrows went up. “You’re under financial stress and she’s out spending your money? Jamie—”

“Our money, and it’s her way of having fun.” Jamie laughed at Lori and Travis, their ten-year-old, splashing each other.

“She should be helping you.”

“She’s never been involved in my business.”

“And you’ve never had a problem like this. When the going gets tough, some people roll up their sleeves and pitch in, and some go shopping.”

“I love her the way she is.”

“Do you have to?”

“Not listening,” Jamie said as she went over to the table and turned on the iPod. “Requests?”

“Like there’s any choice. It’ll be another month before you’re out of your ‘Melissa mood.’ If there’s a more loyal fan, I haven’t met her. How many concerts?”

“Forty-two.”

“What’s the farthest you’ve gone?”

“Atlanta.” Jamie flopped onto the chaise. Was anything better than lying in the sun? It had always been her instant ticket to relaxation.

“How long’s it been since that concert?”

“Twenty years.”

“Do you ever think about that girl?”

“Nope.” Her last image of Carly was looking down the length of her body—her breasts, the soft roundness of her belly, the triangle of blond hair—as she lay snuggled in Jamie’s arms. Jamie sat up, and sweat rolled down her chest.

“But don’t you ever wonder what your life would be like now if—”

“It was one night a long time ago. Fun. Meaningless.” Penni was so ridiculous sometimes. “My contribution to a straight woman’s education.”

“I forget her—”

“Carly.”

“Oh, yeah. I always remember her as the Southern girl who broke your heart.”

“She did not break my heart.” Jamie tossed her sunglasses on her towel and walked to the pool. She dove in and surfaced near Lori. “Your wife’s being a pain.”

“You mean stubborn? Pushy?”

Jamie picked up Travis and catapulted him into the air. “Exactly.”

“She loves you. It’s her only defense and it’s a good one.”

Jamie threw Travis until her arms ached and then returned to the chaise. She was just dozing off when something cold touched her shoulder.

“You drink this stuff like water,” Penni said as she handed Jamie another iced tea, shoving Jamie’s leg over with her hip as she sat facing her. “Any luck hiring a new office manager?”

“Interviewed three more this week. I wouldn’t trust any of them to wash my car. Betty’s husband is going to kill me if I don’t get her replaced soon.” Jamie’s attempted laugh came out strangled. “Maybe my standards are too high.”

“Or maybe you’re just scared to trust anyone. How’s the rest of it going?”

“Dismal. I can’t even count how many hours I’ve spent going through patient files or how many phone calls I’ve made to the insurance companies. And having to get together the documentation for the DA and IRS…” Jamie felt her good mood disappearing.

“One day at a time.” Penni patted her thigh. “Aren’t your accountant and attorney helping?”

“My attorney’s trying to keep the DA happy. My accountant’s working with the IRS. But neither of them can go through the patient files, and that’s the root of the problem. They wouldn’t know what to look for. And I got into this mess because I trusted someone else to run my business. I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Why not hire a forensic accountant?”

“No.” Jamie wiped sweat off her throat. “I’m not letting anyone go through my books until I’ve figured out what Marjorie did. I’m going to know everything there is to know about it so I’m not dependent on my next office manager.”

“Has the DA decided to press charges against her?”

“I don’t know.” Jamie rubbed the back of her neck, trying to loosen the knots that hadn’t been there two months ago. “I’m scared, Penni. I thought I’d resolve this quickly, but it keeps getting to be a bigger mess. What if I lose the business? My father would be so disappointed in me.”

“You don’t know this wasn’t happening under his nose, too. Like mother, like daughter.”

“I doubt it,” Jamie said with a snort. “You knew him. He was the most diligent, hard-working, responsible person imaginable.”

“Scoot forward,” Penni said, sliding behind Jamie and digging her fingers into Jamie’s shoulders. “Lot of weight on these shoulders.”

Penni’s hands froze, and Jamie opened her eyes. Sheryl was bearing down on them. “Don’t make a scene. Please?”

“Jamie? You didn’t tell me they were coming over.” Sheryl smiled, but her eyes were like daggers.

“I didn’t—”

“We must have called after you left to go shopping,” Penni said. “How are you, Sheryl? Nice outfit.” When Sheryl stormed off into the house, she said, “Oops. Did I offend the wicked witch?”

“I asked you not to call her that. This is her home. And her pool,” Jamie tossed over her shoulder as she hurried after Sheryl.

“Can’t you get along with her for an hour?”

“She hates me. I don’t want her here. I’ve told you that.” Sheryl banged a glass on the kitchen counter.

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s my best friend, and she used to be your—”

“Not since we bought this house.” Sheryl popped the top on a Diet Coke and filled the glass. “What business was it of hers—”

“Please try?” Jamie put her hands on Sheryl’s waist.

“I’ll be in my office until they leave.” Sheryl’s voice was as cold as the ice in the glass.

“You deserve better.” Penni’s voice was gentle, and she put her arm around Jamie’s shoulders.

“Can’t you try to get along?”

“I tried for years, but when she made you sell your childhood home because of some ridiculous idea that being a lesbian is hurting her career…I can’t forgive that.”

Jamie jerked away. “It’s not that simple. The house was old and drafty—”

“And a block from her school.” Penni’s jaw muscles tightened. “If she gets this next promotion, are you going to have to buy another house for some other reason?”

“Relationships are about compromise.” Jamie crossed her arms.

“And where is she compromising?”

“I need to go talk to her.”

“And we need to be going. Thanks for the swim.”

Jamie headed for Sheryl’s office. The day hadn’t gone the way she’d planned, but she intended to salvage the evening.

Jamie let herself in the back door of the clinic. It was quiet as she turned on lights, started coffee, and checked her schedule for the day. She’d woken up restless and gone for a run, the first one in weeks. The only trace of Sheryl when she got back was the steamy bathroom, towels strewn across the vanity, and the new perfume Jamie tried to like. No note saying, “I love you” or “Have a great day.” It had been a while since she’d gotten one of those, and she missed them. So many ways they used to connect. She’d pick up flowers and a card on her way home. She felt bad about yesterday. Sheryl was right; she should have called to tell her Penni was there.

She had an hour before her first patient and a stack of patient files to go through. Why couldn’t her week begin with great coffee and a hologram of Marjorie sitting across the desk answering questions about what she’d done and why? Instead, her father’s face stared at her from the picture on the corner of the desk. He was smiling that movie-star smile that added to his charm, but Jamie always thought of him as stern and serious. He always had an answer, a certainty about what to do and the right way to do it, whether it was treating patients, tying the red ties that were his trademark, or building this clinic.
What would be the right way, Dad, to solve this problem?
She startled when a voice said, “Good morning.”

Sara Michaels, her other associate doctor, stood shoulder to shoulder with Don in her doorway. He was lanky and blond, Sara almost his comedy-duo opposite, short and dark-haired and solidly built from years of weight lifting.

“We wanted to catch you before you got busy,” Sara said as they approached Jamie’s desk.

“What’s up?” Both had their hands in their pockets, like nervous kids approaching the principal.

“We want to help,” Sara said. “You’re coming in early, staying late, interviewing during your lunch.”

“It’s not—”

“Our problem. We know,” Don said, his deep voice at odds with his build. “We worked with Marjorie, too. We should have noticed something was off.”

“We can go through files,” Sara said. “Or let us take some of your patient load.”

“I appreciate the offer.” Jamie stood and cupped Sara’s elbow, walking her to the door. “But it’s easier for me to deal with this myself.”

“At least let one of us adjust you every week. You’re tired and stressed, two causes for subluxations and tight muscles.”