High Anxiety (9 page)

“Ready to come in?” I asked them.

They headed my way. Ellen paused and glanced at my mom. “You’ll let us know what you find out?” she said.

She nodded. “I should have all of the information before you leave.”

They came in and I closed the door. I waited until we were seated before questioning them. “What kind of information are you looking for?”

“Well—” Ellen slid forward on the sofa. “We got to talking to Dixie, and the next thing I know, I’m telling her the reason Gerald and I have been seeing you. I mean, she’s so easy to talk to, you know? She came up with a great idea.”

“Oh?”

“She suggested that we take a second honeymoon.”

“I see.”

“Maybe she’s right. She says we need a clean slate.”

Gerald nodded. “Plus, Dixie has a friend who is a travel agent. She’s going to see if she can get a good deal for us. We want to go to the hotel in Hawaii where we spent our first honeymoon.”

I looked from one to the other as I tried to keep up.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” I asked. “I mean, we’ve only had a few sessions.”

They both nodded eagerly, but I didn’t share their enthusiasm. I knew Ellen was no more convinced of Gerald’s innocence than she was the day they first walked into my office. She had huge trust issues, and Gerald resented her accusations.

“Not that I don’t think a second honeymoon is an excellent idea,” I said quickly, “but it would probably be better if the two of you had more sessions under your belt.” I knew Ellen would never heal until she stopped accusing Gerald of every vile thing under the sun and considered that he might just be innocent of any wrongdoing.

Ellen looked hurt. “I thought you’d be happy for us.”

“I am
very
happy,” I said, “but I want the experience to be wonderful for you.”

“It
will
be wonderful,” Gerald said. “Not to mention romantic,” he added. He smiled at his wife. “Moonlit walks on the beach, dancing under the stars, the smell of suntan lotion on warm skin.”

It was obvious they had already made up their minds, and I was not going to be able to convince them otherwise. “Okay, if you’re both determined to go, I think we should set up a few boundaries.”

“For example?” Ellen asked.

“I think the two of you should make a pact not to discuss your problems while you’re away.”

Ellen arched one brow. “Are you saying I should pretend the affair never happened?”

“There was no affair,” Gerald said tightly.

“That’s what I mean,” I said. “Just go and have a good time, and we’ll work on the problems when you get back.” I looked at Ellen. “Do you think you can do that?”

Ellen was prevented from answering when there was a knock at my door. My mother peeked inside. “Guess what? My travel agent can get you a forty percent discount if you can leave within seventy-two hours.”

Ellen and Gerald looked at each other. “That’s a huge savings,” Gerald said. “We’d be crazy not to jump on it.”

Ellen suddenly looked anxious. “It doesn’t give me much time to get ready,” she said. She looked at me. “Could we cut this session short? I won’t be able to concentrate, knowing I have so much to do.”

“Of course,” I said. I followed them out. I noticed my mother had moved some of the furniture in my reception room and was presently making travel arrangements for Ellen and Gerald. I went into my supply room for a new legal pad and found a mess. Obviously, my mother was in the process of getting things in order, only it looked as though it would get much worse before it got better.

Back in my office, I grabbed the Atlanta phone book and thumbed through the listings until I found what I was looking for: Midtown Temps. I dialed the number, and a professional voice on the other end introduced herself as Bernice.

“Hello, Bernice,” I said and told her who I was. “I’m in urgent need of a receptionist.”

 

 

I waited until
my mother and I were alone before I broke the news to her. “Guess what?” I said. “I called a temporary employment agency and found a receptionist. She’s coming in this afternoon.”

My mother looked shocked. “Why on earth would you do that?” she asked. “Do you have any idea how much those places charge?”

“I can afford it, Mom, now that I have a few new patients. Besides, Aunt Trixie needs you at the studio. Don’t you have some sort of spring thing you’re working on?”

“It’s called the Spring Fling,” she said, giving a proud smile. “It’s a whole new line of furniture and junk art in pastel colors.”

“Plus you have to get ready for the anniversary party on Sunday night.”

She looked thoughtful. “Well, yes, but—”

“Besides, Mona is only going to be out for a few more days.”

“I don’t want you to feel as though I’m abandoning you,” she said.

“That’s the farthest thing from my mind! I know if things don’t work out with this girl, I can call you.”

“Absolutely!”

It took twenty minutes to finally usher her from my reception room and into the elevator. I stood and waved as the double doors closed. I hurried back inside my reception room and moved the furniture back in place but decided to straighten the supply room later. To celebrate my mother’s departure, I grabbed my wallet and keys, locked up, and went downstairs to the sandwich shop, where I ordered a roast beef and cheese with the works. I returned upstairs to find a slender blond woman standing outside my door.

“May I help you?” I asked.

“Are you Dr. Kate Holly?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Abigail Davis,” she said. “The temp agency sent me.”

“Wow, that was quick!”

“I was actually interviewing with them when you called, so they sent me straight over.”

She looked to be in her midthirties. She was neatly dressed and attractive but wore little makeup. I unlocked the door to my reception room and motioned her inside. I followed. “Have you eaten lunch?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I had a late breakfast, so I’m okay.” She looked around. “This is a nice office,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said, setting my wallet, keys, and bag on Mona’s desk. “This is where you will sit,” I told her, wasting no time on preliminaries since I would barely have time to finish my sandwich before my next patient arrived. “Your main duties will be to answer the phone and greet patients when they come in. I usually have coffee in back in case they want a cup. A couple of them prefer hot tea.”

“That sounds easy enough.”

I picked up the appointment book. “Each morning, we’ll want to compare our appointment books for the day,” I said. “If someone cancels or wishes to reschedule, make sure I get the message so I can take care of it and coordinate with you. That way I won’t end up double booked.”

“I hope you weren’t looking for someone with great computer skills,” she said, motioning to the desktop computer. “I’m not real good at that sort of thing. In fact, I’d probably break it.”

I thought it odd that she had little computer knowledge. It seemed everyone had a home office or carried a laptop with them these days. “My receptionist sends out monthly bills,” I told her, “but you won’t be doing that. Like I said, I just need someone to answer the phone and greet my patients when they come in. I should warn you, some of them might try to discuss their problems with you while waiting to see me. I would appreciate it if you would discourage such behavior.”

She gave a rueful smile. “I seriously doubt that anyone would ask
me
for advice. I have enough trouble managing my own life.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know if she was joking or if her self-effacing manner was part of her personality. “Some of my patients, especially the new ones, are a little anxious when they come in. A smile and a cheerful word go a long way toward calming them down.”

“I promise to make them feel welcome.”

“You can put your purse in the bottom drawer of the desk or beneath the sink in the kitchenette,” I said. “Whichever makes you feel more comfortable,” I added.

“I don’t have enough money on me to worry about it,” she joked. She opened the desk drawer and shoved her purse inside.

I showed her the kitchenette, which held a small refrigerator and microwave. “If you don’t feel like bringing your lunch, there’s a sandwich shop downstairs. They also serve coffee and pastries in the morning so they’re usually open by seven a.m. If you don’t want to go to the trouble, you can grab something from the vending machines on the first floor. It’s not healthy, but it’s fast.”

“How long is your receptionist going to be out?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. Oh, and feel free to bring a book. You might get bored sitting around waiting for the phone to ring. Mona, my receptionist, likes to shop online.” I opened the small refrigerator. “I keep soft drinks in here,” I said, “in case you get thirsty. The vending machines charge too much.” I offered her one, but she shook her head. I chose my usual diet drink and closed the door. I looked up to find her standing close and staring at me intently. I instinctively took a step back. “Is something wrong?”

She blushed. “I don’t mean to gawk,” she said, “but I wasn’t expecting you to be so young. Not to mention pretty,” she added. “I figured you would be middle-aged and wearing spectacles and sensible shoes.”

I decided it was a good day since I’d been called young twice. “I’ve never been the sensible type,” I said. “I’m sort of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kinda gal.”

“You have more going for you than that, or you wouldn’t have your own practice,” she said. “I really admire that.”

I still felt she was standing too close, crowding my personal space. “Thank you, Abigail,” I said, wishing she would move so I didn’t have to push past her. I wondered if I was making too much of it.

“I’m sorry if I seem a little nervous,” she said. “I just moved to Atlanta, and this is my very first job with the temp agency.”

“Where are you from?”

“California.”

“Wow, that’s quite a distance. Do you have family here?”

“No. I recently divorced, and I wanted to move as far away as I could. You know, make a fresh start.”

The therapist in me wondered if there was more to it, if maybe her husband had created problems for her or if she had felt threatened by him. It never failed to amaze me how angry and bitter some couples became after a divorce. “It must’ve been scary coming all this way and not having any friends here.”

“I prefer to think of it as an adventure.”

“So you’ve already found a place and you’re all settled?” I asked.

She shook her head. “It’s only temporary. I want to take my time looking. I’d like to find a place where the traffic is not so bad.”

“Good luck,” I said. Then I added, “I hope you don’t think I’m rude, but I’d better hurry up and eat my sandwich before my next appointment arrives.” She stepped aside, and I started for the door. “Feel free to ask me any questions,” I mentioned as I moved away.

She followed me down the hall. I paused at the reception desk and grabbed my stuff.

“May I see your office?” she asked.

“Sure.”

I opened the door and went in. Abigail stood in the doorway. “It’s very nice.”

I pulled my sandwich from the bag and unwrapped it. “A couple of friends did it. I have trouble decorating a Christmas tree.” I took a bite of my sandwich.

“Yes, but look at what you
are
capable of. You help those who are hurting.” She pointed to a picture of Jay on my credenza. “Is that your significant other?” she asked.

“Yes.” I decided not to go into the complicated details of our accidental divorce.

“He’s quite a hunk.”

“I think so.” I touched the picture frame as though it would somehow bring him closer to me. “He’s a firefighter.” I heard the pride in my voice. Even though Jay’s job made me anxious, I had always been proud of him. I suddenly missed him so much that my heart ached. It didn’t help that we’d argued. More than anything I wanted to clear the air between us.

“My ex was an insurance adjuster,” Abigail said, interrupting my thoughts. “How boring is that?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I would gladly welcome boring, that I’d prefer it to having Jay running into burning buildings, but I could not imagine him sitting at a desk punching numbers into a calculator all day.

“I caught my ex having an affair with my best friend,” Abigail said.

“That must’ve been painful.”

“It was more painful losing my best friend.” She smiled. “Best friends are hard to come by. Crummy husbands are a dime a dozen.”

I chuckled and took another bite of my sandwich.

“I’ll bet you’ve heard your share of sad stories,” she said. “Does it ever get to you?”

“Sometimes. There are certain cases I refuse to treat because I know I can’t be objective.”

I took another bite of my sandwich and wished she would stop asking questions so I could finish my lunch.

“Have any of your patients ever committed suicide?” she asked, only to cover her mouth the minute the words came out.

I stopped chewing.

Abigail’s cheeks turned
a bright red. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I can’t believe I asked that. It was so out of line. Please, I don’t expect you to answer.”

The question had caught me off guard. It was like asking a soldier how many people he’d killed on the battlefield.

I finally swallowed. “I haven’t lost anybody yet,” I said, trying to make light of it. Even so, I was reluctant to share with her that I had been trained long ago in what signs to look for and how best to handle a suicidal person. She had asked enough questions for one day.

I noticed my answering machine was blinking, and I wondered if Jay had tried to call while I’d been in the sandwich shop. It would give me an excuse to cut off my conversation with Abigail. “Oops, I probably should check my messages,” I said. “Would you please let me know when my next patient arrives?”