by Liz Turner
Still, Hallie knew that if she refused to settle of court, even if she won the court case, some people—maybe a few patients or even her colleagues—would still harbor doubts about her skills. She could end up losing her position, anyway. No, she thought, I won’t let this man ruin the life I’ve created for myself here. There was only one option, then: prove, somehow, that Mr. Lewis was lying, before he could go to the trouble of suing her for malpractice.
“I don’t think you understand the seriousness of the situation, doll,” Lewis said finally, practically spitting out the words. His eyes burned. “You can’t prove anything without your original x-ray, and here I am with a fractured hip. I’ve been in pain for months, and my wife can attest to that!”
Hallie returned his gaze calmly. “I’ll ask you to leave, Mr. Lewis. My consulting hours have ended for the night. If you’d like to continue our discussion, please return in the morning. But you should know that I’m a stubborn woman when I know I’m right. My mind will not change. You’re wasting your time trying to squeeze a settlement out of me.” She jutted her chin out for good measure and clasped her hands firmly behind her back so that he couldn’t see them shaking.
Lewis spun on his heel. “You have twenty-four hours to decide. Then my offer expires, and I’ll be taking you to court.” He bustled out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Hallie sank into her desk chair, slumping with relief. She hadn’t realized how tense she had been. Something about Lewis’ presence in the room thrust her senses into high-alert for danger. A con artist. A shark looking for easy prey. And he was swimming in her small corner of the ocean now, circling around her.
Hallie felt cold. The sun had set, vanished below the horizon, and the light coming from the fluorescent ceiling light reflected eerily off the immaculate surfaces. An hour earlier, her office had been her home, safe and warm, a pillar to all her accomplishments and a reminder of the happy future she envisioned in Warrenton. Why did it suddenly feel like it could all be toppled in an instant?
Hallie sat up. She didn’t know how she was going to get out of this pickle, but she knew where she needed to go right now. She was going to call on her dear friend, possibly the first friend she made in Warrenton when she had arrived: Gladys Dean. Hallie had rented a room in her house for a few weeks and the two had quickly bonded despite their twenty-year age difference. Gladys’ warm embrace, sage advice, famous hot cocoa, and the inviting, spacious rooms of her home would be just what Hallie needed to lift her spirits and remind her that she did have friends in this town—the very best.
***
Hallie began her drive to Gladys’ home on the outskirts of town. Gladys had quickly taken her under her wing when she first arrived in Warrenton, not knowing a soul in town. Even though Hallie had spent a few years here during her childhood with her father, most of the townspeople—and the town itself—were unfamiliar to her forty years later. Hallie had been in a place of ambivalence about the next step to take in her career and her personal life. The war had ended, and she had been offered a prestigious position in forensics. But somehow, the thought of heading off into another fast-paced, detached medical environment—as beneficial it might have been for her career—made Hallie long for a life, a real life, with deep friendships and maybe even family. So she had packed her bags and moved to Warrenton, optimistic, but also unsettled and unsure.
She promptly met Gladys, an energetic, talkative woman, despite her eighty years of age. Gladys didn’t give her a moment to feel unwelcome as soon as she stepped inside her sturdy, wooden frame house. Gladys’ easy laugh and cheeky jokes put Hallie at ease, and soon Hallie felt completely at home. The two remained friends after Hallie found a house of her own, and Hallie made a habit of visiting Gladys for dinner every Sunday night. Lately, though, Hallie had been spending more and more of those Sunday nights with Dr. Livingstone. She supposed, regretfully, that she hadn’t seen Gladys for about a month now.
The road through town was paved, but once Hallie continued out past Warrenton proper, she felt the road change to dirt under the wheels of her Ford. The night air was frigid and fogged her windows as she rode down the bending road. In the fall and spring, the route to Gladys’ was downright beautiful; tall oak trees lined the road, and fields of wildflowers stretched out for miles on either side. Now, though, mid-January in northern Massachusetts, the wildlife was dormant, waiting out the freezing temperatures. Naked trees with skeleton-like branches swayed in the winter wind, and the colorful wildflowers had disappeared under the frequent snowfalls, giving way to a never-ending plot of muddy snow.
Upon parking on the drive in front of Gladys’ house, Hallie tucked her chin into the collar of her coat and trudged through the wind to knock on the handsome wooden door. A woman with a full head of gray hair, cut short to frame her heart-shaped face, swung open the door.
“Well, I’ll be! Is that Dr. Malone I see standing before me?” Gladys said, pulling Hallie into a tight hug. “Come in, dear. It is cold out there isn’t it? Come, come, I’ll make you a steaming mug of cocoa.” Gladys winked. “I had thought you were done with old Gladys. Traded up for a handsome gentleman doctor.”
“Gladys! Of course not. No one could ever replace you,” Hallie said, chuckling. She followed Gladys inside, glad to shut the door against the cold.
They padded along the carpets lining the hallways. The house was monstrously large, a relic from the pre-civil war era, with high ceilings and tall arched doorways, a maze of a place, all long hallways and surprising little nooks. Gladys never seemed to have trouble filling it up, though, whether with boarders renting some of the many rooms, or with frequent guests and cheerful banter. Tonight, she had nearly every light turned on, giving the whole place a happy yellow glow. A fire roared from the stone fireplace in the sitting room.
“Have any boarders tonight, Gladys?” Hallie inquired.
“Oh, yes, a nice middle-aged couple are staying upstairs for a few days. The husband is in town on business I think,” Gladys replied. “Forgive the mess,” she continued, “I was just doing a sketch for a new painting.” The sitting room was littered with canvas boards of different sizes and old black and white photographs of what looked like Warrenton decades ago. A two-foot-long sketch pad leaned against a table, surrounded by pieces of broken charcoal. On it was a detailed rendering of Main Street, circa 1860. “I wasn’t expecting company! I’d all but given up on our Sunday night dinners.”
“I am terribly sorry for not coming more often recently, Gladys. And I should have called tonight before I came over. I didn’t mean to interrupt your sketching—it looks wonderful, by the way! I can’t wait to see the finished painting,” Hallie replied.
“Nonsense! I’m ecstatic to see you! Maybe I’ll do some sketches of you,” Gladys said slyly. The stairs creaked and someone was heard coming down from upstairs. Moments later, a friendly looking couple appeared in the sitting room, wearing heavy robes that dusted the floor as they walked and thick slippers.
“Oh! Hello. I’m sorry, we didn’t expect anyone to be up at this hour, and we certainly didn’t expect to find you entertaining a guest, Gladys,” the woman said with an elegant southern accent.
The man tightened the knot around his robe. “Our apologies for disturbing you. We just had a hankering for some tea and perhaps a spell warming by the fire.”
The woman smiled sheepishly. “In Louisiana, it doesn’t get this cold. Not nearly. We’re just freezing to death.”
Gladys smiled welcomingly, always the obliging host. “Of course, of course! You two just come right in and have a seat by the fire and warm up. Let me introduce you to Doctor Hallie Malone, one of our newest, and already beloved, neighbors.” She swept a hand to Hallie, who was standing a bit behind her. Hallie stepped forward, smiling kindly, and the three shook hands. “Jimmy and Carol Robinson, Hallie Malone. Hallie, Jimmy and Carol Robinson. The nice couple I mentioned earlier, braving the Massachusetts winter for a business trip, yes?” Gladys looked
inquiringly at the couple.
“Yes, that’s correct. The electric company I work for sent me up here to check on our new office in the town over. We’ve taken the opportunity to explore the northeast—Concord, Warrenton, Boston, New York…and all the towns in between,” Jimmy said.
“Of course, we didn’t consider what…bone-chilling weather awaited us once we left our mild south. I’ve had to buy a new coat just for this trip!” Carol added, making an exaggerated incredulous face, her mouth stretched into a large oval. “Although all the white snow every which way does make the scenery just beautiful, like a fairytale. If only I could take this fire with me on our travels.” She chuckled.
Hallie laughed and added, “Well it’s not just the southerners that are put out by this winter. I’ve lived most of my life in cold places, and I’m fed up with this season. Seems to stretch on longer every year.” As Jimmy took a seat on the sofa by the fire and began engaging Gladys in talk of one of her paintings, Hallie turned to Carol. “Now, what’s Louisiana like this time of year?”
Carol, who was about Hallie’s age, lit up at the question. “Extremely pleasant. I’ve lived there just about my whole life. Went to Louisiana State University—where I met Jimmy—married there, raised my two darling children there. Baton Rouge is where we live. It’s a mild climate, being only a few hours’ drive to the ocean.”
“Oh, that does sound lovely! The farthest south I’ve been is Washington D.C.”
“My, you have to come down sometime. The trip is long, but you won’t be disappointed. The town is all beautiful brick buildings and abundant greenery, full and flowing trees that never lose their leaves…” Carol had a slow way of talking and as she continued, Hallie noted that her accent, which had initially struck her as a nearly stereotypical southern dialect, was decidedly different from anything she had ever heard before. Carol went on about the attractions of Baton Rouge and Louisiana and surrounding areas seemingly for nearly an hour, though when Hallie discreetly checked her watch, it had only been twenty minutes. She was growing anxious that this couple might monopolize all of Gladys’ time tonight, and she’d never have a chance to ask her for advice. “…The young men and women of Louisiana State University are some of the most positive agents for change down….”
Growing weary of chatting, Hallie excused herself as politely as she could, “That is nice, Carol. Perhaps I’ll make my way down there someday soon—”
“Oh, you just have to!” Carol interrupted.
“But as for right now, I’m rather exhausted. I’d had better be getting to bed soon.” Hallie hinted, hoping that Gladys would understand and encourage the night owls to head back upstairs. She shot a sidelong glance at where Gladys sat with Jimmy, and Gladys met her eyes.
“I concur, Hallie. I think it’s about time for us all to get some sleep. Can I fetch you anything, Jimmy and Carol? Perhaps a glass of water?” Gladys said, standing up and making a show of stretching and gently rubbing her eyes.
Jimmy rose from the sofa and met his wife by the stairs. “No, no thank you Gladys; you’ve been a wonderful host. I hope we haven’t kept you up too long.” He and Carol began to walk up the stairs, with Carol waving incessantly at Hallie, a broad smile on her face. Hallie waved back weakly.
When the Robinsons were out of earshot, Gladys said, “My those two are a talkative sort, aren’t they?”
Hallie agreed and lingered in her place at the entrance to the sitting room. After the untimely interruption, she was unsure how to go about asking what she had come here to ask. Gladys noticed her reticence and shooed her in toward the sofa. “Go on, now, have a seat, dear. I’ll go fetch us some cocoa.”
Hallie smiled, grateful as ever for Gladys’ uncanny ability to know just what she was feeling, as Gladys sprung out of the room into the kitchen. In the now-quiet room, she draped her coat across the settee and walked around to admire Gladys’ collection of paintings. She thumbed through a stack of large sketches on the floor by the fireplace. Most were half-done, dashes of charcoal that barely revealed an outline of what would be the finished work. A portrait, perhaps, or a new landscape. Hallie pulled one out to get a better look. It was a man drawn with a long face and what looked to be wild strands of hair spiraling out from his head. Tilting her own head, Hallie studied the sketch. The subject looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t place him. The sketch was too crude. “Gladys?” Hallie called to the kitchen.
“Yes, dear what is it?” came the muffled reply.
“Who is this sketch you have over here? The gentleman with the long face? He seems so familiar to me…” There was no answer. “Gladys? Can you hear me?” Hallie asked.
“Oh, yes, dear, sorry I was caught up with this stove. Um, I do believe that sketch you’re talking about was one of my boarders a few weeks ago. He asked if I might draw him and I agreed. I’m not sure what happened that we never finished the project. Perhaps his plans…changed abruptly…and that was that. Unfinished. I ought to throw it away.”
Hallie heard some loud clanging coming from the kitchen. Glady’s voice had sounded odd to her, but she supposed it must be because in her old age, the woman wasn’t skilled at multitasking. Then Hallie noticed the date penciled in on the bottom right corner: it was about four months ago, not a few weeks. Perhaps Gladys was losing track of time, too. Hallie peered over to the kitchen worriedly. She should keep a closer eye on her friend; eighty-years is old to be living all alone outside of town, let alone to be running a boarding house. With a quiet vow to visit more, Hallie folded the sketch back into the pile and continued her exploration of Glady’s small “art gallery.” She particularly enjoyed one of the garden scenes, a clear representation of Gladys’ own vast garden behind the house. In the painting, roses were painted a bright cherry red, and the yellow sun shined on the dewy green grass. Quite a refreshing sight in this chilling winter weather.
Hallie felt herself beginning to relax in the warm glow from the fire when she remembered the events of the evening. I must act now, she thought, there’s no time to relax when a shark like Lewis is around. She hoped that talking through the situation with Gladys would help her come to a solution—or at the very least, give her an idea of how to prove Lewis was lying.
Once they were both seated in armchairs, sipping from mugs of cocoa, Gladys breathed deeply and contentedly. “What did I tell you? Cocoa on a winter day, my solution to any ailment.”
Hallie nodded, closing her eyes and taking a whiff of the chocolaty stuff. She managed a thin-lipped smile and tried to appear content. She wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of Lewis with Gladys, and, looking around at the mess in the living room, she felt less and less like burdening her friend with her problems.
Then, setting her mug down deliberately, Gladys said, “Now then, now that we’re all settled, dear, tell me what it is that’s troubling you.”
Hallie looked up, startled. She nearly spat out the sip of cocoa she had just taken. “How did you know something was wrong?”
“Why, I haven’t seen you this tense in months! I can just sense these things. And, there’s the fact that you haven’t finished your cocoa yet and it’s already been ten minutes,” Gladys said, keeping a light twinge to her voice.
Hallie smiled sadly and looked out the window at the snow that had started to fall. She sighed. “I suppose I’m in a bit of trouble, Gladys.”
“Is it something with Dr. Livingstone?”
“—No, no. James is… wonderful.”
Gladys smiled and scooted forward in her chair. “You know, I knew you two would hit it off. Two of the smartest people in town? Meant to be together. You ought to bring him over for dinner one of these days, Hallie. Don’t deprive the man of my cooking! It just isn’t fair!” She slapped Hallie heartily on the knee and let out a laugh.
“I’ll be sure to bring him around. He adores you…And your cooking!” Hallie laughed along, though her heart wasn’t in it. It was hard to think of happy evenings with Gladys and James when she was i
n danger of losing everything she had worked so hard to get. “How are you these days, Gladys? How’s the knee? Any pain lately?” Gladys had injured her knee years ago, and Hallie sometimes prescribed her medicine to help her deal with the flare-ups of pain.
Gladys waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s perfectly fine—as am I.” When Hallie nodded in response, Gladys said seriously, “Alright, then. I think we’ve had quite enough with the chit chat tonight. What’s really on your mind? What sort of trouble are you in?”
Chapter 3
A Very Cunning
Con Man
H allie explained to Gladys as quickly as she could that Lewis was blackmailing her for a settlement. She didn’t want to alarm the old woman, but Gladys was sharp and would know immediately if she left out anything. “He’s threatening to sue if I don’t pay him five thousand dollars by tomorrow evening.”
Gladys’ didn’t appear surprised or alarmed as Hallie had expected. Instead, she had leaned back in her chair and was listening intently with one eyebrow raised. Hallie supposed after eighty years, there wasn’t much left that could shock this woman.
Shaking her head firmly, Hallie continued. “I’m certain he’s lying. He did not have a fracture when I treated him. But without those initial x-rays, I don’t have a way to prove it.” She crossed her arms. “I won’t pay him, Gladys. He’s a con artist, and he knows I know it. If it comes down to it, I’ll just go through with the court hearing—but I’d like to avoid that at all costs.” She looked at Gladys knowingly.