The drive into Hammond didn’t take long, and Jack’s office was easy to find. The red brick building with white shudders was located behind the hospital and on a street lined with doctors’ offices. Susan parked and walked past a bed of pansies on her way to the entrance. Inside, tall ceilings and lots of glass allowed the sun to brighten and warm the place. A receptionist sat behind a desk to the right. Behind her on the wall were the names of two other doctors.
“I’m Susan Griffin. I have an appointment with Doctor Evans.”
“Is this your first visit?”
Susan nodded.
“I’ll need to copy your insurance card, and you’ll have to complete this form.”
When Susan finished filling in the information, the receptionist removed the paper and handed it back, along with her insurance card. “Please give the form to the nurse when you’re called.”
There were several patients in the waiting room. One in particular caught her attention, a young man, perhaps in his late teens. He had a full head of hair, so she guessed his surgery was long behind him. Whatever his injury, it had affected the right side of his body. His arm and hand were drawn close to him. She wondered if he had suffered a stroke. When his name was called, the woman on his left helped support him. As with his arm, he lacked control over his right leg.
Susan looked down, not wanting him to catch her staring. Too young, way too young.
She silently thanked her Maker that her fall had not resulted in such debilitation. A few minutes later, a nurse opened a door and entered the waiting room. “Ms. Griffin?”
Susan rose and handed the woman her paperwork.
“Right this way.” They walked down a hall and into an examining room. “Have a seat. The doctor will be right with you.”
I’ve heard that before, Susan thought. She’d never had a doctor show up promptly. The wait could be anywhere from ten minutes to an hour while the patient was left to freeze in an icebox of a room. Rubbing her arms against the chill, she took note of the diplomas covering one wall. On the counter below them, a model of the brain sat on a stand. None of the objects interested Susan at this time, only what would happen between Jack and her. She decided to wait and see if he made light of her hallucinations.
Jack entered the room while reading over her chart. “I won’t need you,” he said to the nurse, who nodded and exited the room. “Leave the door open.”
Susan knew that was for his protection, so he couldn’t be accused of anything unethical. He didn’t have to worry. She had no intention of jumping his bones…only saving them.
Jack circled behind her chair. “Look down,” he said, after which he moved her hair aside and examined his handiwork. “Any seepage? Or headaches?”
“Not anymore.”
“Good. It’s healed nicely. I’m going to take out the few stitches.”
She didn’t feel a thing.
“You can wash your hair now, but don’t scrub where it was sutured. Baby it.”
He set his scissors and tweezers aside and pulled off his latex gloves.
“Anymore visions or hallucinations?” He grinned.
“So you still don’t believe me?”
“Oh, I believe you experienced something, but I also believe it was a result of your sedation. Well, have you?”
“No, but—”
“My point exactly. Given time, you’ll forget about it.”
No matter what she said, it was obvious she wasn’t going to convince him. He was a man of science, and she doubted he gave the paranormal much thought. If something couldn’t be seen, touched, or examined, he seemed to believe it couldn’t possibly be real. Well, maybe after Wesley saved his butt he’d become a believer. She wasn’t one to say, ‘I told you so,’ but in his case, she’d make an exception.
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“One more thing,” he said as she turned to go. “Your friend, the one who brought you to the hospital…”
“Anna Katherine?” Susan thought her real name was in order here.
“Does she live around the Hammond area?”
“Just outside of town on the road to Palmetto. I never give out private numbers, but if you’re interested in contacting her, you can reach her at the Bawdy Boutique. She’s my assistant manager.”
“I might just do that. Thanks.”
Susan chuckled as she climbed into the Camaro. So Jack was interested in A. K. She couldn’t wait to break the news to her friend. He’d better put on his jogging shoes if he wanted to keep up with her.
She arrived at the Bawdy Boutique, still giddy at the idea of Jack and A. K. Seeing several cars in the parking lot that ran alongside the building also boosted her spirits. Sure, she had insurance, but no policy covered everything, and her hospital and doctor’s bills were going to be exorbitant. She was counting on profits to cover her expenses. If all her hard work was going to pay off, now was the time.
With a big sigh of relief, she counted her blessings. No more chasing the catwalks, selecting what was hot and scratching orders for what was not, getting the grunge jobs of promotion and props, and playing second fiddle to those who had made a name in the fashion business. That’s what it took to learn the trade. She had sucked up her pride, took what was handed out, kept her mouth shut, and it had paid off. She had knowledge of the industry and enough savings socked away to go it alone. The fashion world was her ticket home.
She swelled with pride, looking at her classy establishment. The one-story, old Chicago brick structure had one huge display window in the front, bordered by dark green shudders. To the right, was an arched entrance that held a tiny courtyard and fountain. Gas lanterns flickered on either side of the door. The building reflected New Orleans’ architecture.
While the structure was narrow across the front, the shop itself was deep and was situated on one of two lots Susan had purchased. She had plans to expand, either with the boutique or another business. Merchandise galore greeted the customers on entry. Dressing rooms, her business office, restrooms, and additional storage areas were located in the rear of the shop. Tiled floors, interior brick walls, and fluorescent lighting made for easy maintenance.
As soon as Susan walked into the shop, her employees rushed to greet her. Debbie and Sheila bounded to her side, their long, straight black hair swinging with each step. Three years out of high school and former cheerleaders, the pair exuded an energy that Susan envied. Yuppy, preppy, came to mind.
One could count on guys and movies to dominate their conversations, and each seemed to have a new boyfriend every week. When they weren’t helping a customer, they chattered endlessly about where they went the night before, whom they saw, and what was on the agenda for the night. Susan smiled, remembering those times.
“Easy, girls.”
“I’m so glad you’re back,” Debbie said.
Sheila strutted over on her platform heels and gave her a hug. “Me too.”
“I can’t thank you enough. You girls were lifesavers, kept the business up and running. I owe you big time.”
“A raise will do,” Debbie said, giving Sheila a nudge.
“She’s kidding,” Sheila said.
“I think that’s an excellent idea, along with a little bonus on this month’s pay check.”
“Works for me,” Sheila said.
“You bet,” Debbie added.
Several customers entered the store, and the girls hurried to wait on them. Susan realized what jewels they were to her. At first glance, they could pass for sisters. Same color hair, both about five feet five, fair complexions, but that’s where the similarities ended.
Debbie had packed a few more pounds onto her frame in places that worked to her advantage—bigger breasts and a more curvaceous body. On the other hand, Sheila’s slender shape and raspy voice were equally attractive. As popular as the girls were, Susan wondered how long it would be before one of them got married.
The thought of losing either of them gave her the shivers. She had come to de
pend on them, like family, and couldn’t imagine the boutique operating without either girl.
When Susan headed toward the office, she was surprised to see Ramona standing near the register and talking with A. K., who motioned for Susan to join them.
“I told Ramona about your accident and surgery. Would you believe Jack Evans is her brother?”
Talk about a straight face. Move over Meryl Streep. Susan hoped she was half as believable as A. K. “Hi, Ramona, good to see you. I just came from your brother’s office. He gave me the all-clear.” Susan cocked her head to one side. “Now I can see the resemblance—same dark hair and blue eyes.”
“About the good doctor,” A. K. said, “When I was at the hospital, I noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Ramona says he’s divorced. Hmm, an unattached doctor. Bet he won’t stay single long.”
“You don’t know my brother,” Ramona said. “It’s been over a year, and he still hasn’t dated. I encourage him to get out and mingle, but he says he doesn’t have time for the social scene.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” A. K. said, raising her eyebrows at Susan.
Ramona gave Susan a discerning look. “Is that so?” She glanced at her watch. “Oh, my goodness, I hate to rush off, but I have a dental appointment in twenty minutes. I do want the outfit you showed me.”
She handed A. K. her bank card.
After Ramona left, A. K. took a deep breath and exhaled. “You were right about the brothers. I don’t know if I should be glad or worried that I have a creepy friend. Either way, guess I’m stuck with helping you. Ramona didn’t volunteer any information on Jack, except what you heard. I couldn’t push too hard or she’d know something was up.”
“Last night, I told Wesley everything. He knew Ramona and her brothers.”
“How did he take it? Did he have any suggestions?”
“Not really. He doesn’t believe in things that go bump in the night, but like I told you, he did agree to look into the doctor’s past.”
“Girlfriend, you light up when you talk about Wesley. I do believe the embers still glow.” A. K. gave a couple of sniffs. “Heck, I even smell smoke.”
“You might be right. Guess I’ll just have to wait and see if it’s meant to be. If not…well, I’ll worry about that later.” Her explanation might sound logical, but Susan knew her cavalier attitude wasn’t fooling A. K.
“So I take it you didn’t get anywhere with Jack.”
Susan nodded. “He’s convinced I hallucinated, said I’d forget about it in time. Fat chance of that happening. I expected him to be like the Jack I met in the funeral home, friendly and easy to talk to, but he wasn’t. I found him cold and distant. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t get through to him. Here I am trying to save his life, and he tells me to forget it. So much for gratitude.”
“That doesn’t sound like the man I spoke with in the hospital. He came across as warm and friendly, not to mention rich and good looking. I sure hope you’re wrong about him getting shot, or that we don’t manage to stop it. He’s the first guy in a long time that I’d really like to get to know better.”
“You might get your chance. The good doctor asked about you. Seems you made quite an impression on him in the hospital.”
“I can’t imagine why? Are you kidding me?”
“I never kid about that. He wanted to know if you lived around here.”
A. K. danced in place. “Did you give him my number?”
“Of course not, but I did tell him he could reach you at the Bawdy Boutique. Don’t be surprised if you hear from him. Say, did someone cast a spell on you? Every time I turn around, a man wants to meet you.”
“Some of us just got what it takes, kiddo.” A. K. howled.
Raised voices drew Susan’s attention to the front of the store.
“Oh, no, just what I need on my first day back,” Susan sighed.
Myrtle Thigpen and two of her supporters marched back and forth in front of the door, holding signs and blocking customers.
“Call the sheriff’s office,” Susan said. “I’ll see if I can reason with her.”
Susan stepped outside and between the protestors, interrupting the marching. “Myrtle, what’s it going to take to make you stop?”
Myrtle, a dead-ringer for Popeye’s Olive Oil, strutted to within inches of Susan. She stretched her bony neck and jutted out her chin. “When I see a closed sign in the window.”
Susan bit her tongue. Be nice, she told herself. “If you’d come inside and look around, you’d find we have a variety of items for sale. I have some dresses and blouses that would look lovely on you.”
“You’ll never get me to step into that den of iniquity.”
Her harsh reply drew several harrumphs from her fellow soldiers.
Susan was fighting a losing battle and was relieved when the police car arrived.
“I have a right to protest,” Myrtle said to the officer before he had a chance to say anything.
“I’m not disputing that,” he said, “but I’ve told you before that you can’t block the store, and you can’t protest on private property. You ladies will have to do your picketing off the company’s grounds. There’s a nice shady spot at the end of their parking lot and next to the highway.”
While the deputy ushered the women away from the store, a silver Lexus pulled into the parking lot. A chill went down Susan’s spine. She recognized the woman Jack had pointed out as his ex-wife.
“What’s that all about?” Clarissa asked.
“A disgruntled citizen thinks the Devil is behind my shop. This isn’t the first time she’s organized a protest.”
“Why don’t you have her arrested?”
“It’s called freedom of speech.”
“Some people shouldn’t be afforded that right. I wonder what happened to make her such a bitter old woman.”
The deputy returned to his vehicle.
“Thanks,” Susan said. “I’m sorry I had to disturb you with such a call.”
“You did right. I wouldn’t want you and the protesters to wind up in a scuffle.” His radio blared as he climbed into his unit and drove off.
Clarissa headed for the front door. “A. K. called and asked that I stop by.”
Susan opened the door. “I’m Susan. You must be Clarissa. A. K. mentioned you might come in.”
While A. K. waited on Jack’s ex, Susan busied herself rearranging the costume jewelry. She didn’t want to appear nosy, and knew that A. K. could handle the situation. After an hour in the dressing room, Clarissa settled on two negligees, a halter Baby doll pajamas, and a lace push-up bra with matching panties. She showed no interest in any of their casual lines. Clarissa made it known that she wasn’t sitting at home alone.
“I appreciate your business,” Susan said as A. K. rang up the sales. “You picked out some lovely things.”
“At least it’s a start. I’ll be back. I’m planning a trip to Paris next month and want to look my best, especially where it counts.” She gave an impish grin. “Of course, I want to leave room for some French fashions, too.”
“Take me with you,” A. K. said.
Clarissa laughed. “Honey, you’re not my type.”
“You’d leave me to run the store alone?” Susan asked.
“In a heartbeat.”
Clarissa thanked A. K. for calling her and said to keep her in mind if something else came in that was considered a hot item. She gathered up her purchases and beat a path for the front door, leaving the scent of Aromatics Elixir in her wake. The perfume was one of Susan’s favorite—a clean, refreshing scent. Somehow, the fragrance didn’t seem to fix Clarissa.
“She’s such a fake,” Susan said.
“And a flake,” A. K. added. “What did a doctor ever see in that dingbat?” A. K. gave a long, pensive look at the front door. “Uh, don’t answer that.”
“So, did dingbat volunteer any information?”
“No, she was too busy talking about herself.”
Susan rounded the counter. “Let’s hope Wesley turns up something. It’s almost closing time. Why don’t you lock up, and I’ll turn back the register?”
No sooner had Susan put the charge slips into a stack when she heard a tapping on the back door, followed by a familiar voice.
“Guess who’s here?” she called to A. K. “Our favorite customer.”
Vera Barksdale scurried into the shop as soon as Susan opened the door. The wrinkle-free elderly woman was petite and spry. She had enjoyed a long and wonderful marriage to a good man, who was by no means a financial wizard. When he died, he left her penniless. His passing almost destroyed her, but over the years, she seemed to have worked through the pain of losing her soul mate.
Years of housecleaning and hard work to make ends meet had conditioned her body, and she was in better shape than most of Susan’s younger customers. Vera mentioned that recently she had met someone, a man about her age who had a zest for life. However, she made it clear that while she enjoyed his companionship, she was quick to add that no one could ever take the place of her late husband, David, nor would she ever forget him.
Susan learned a long time ago never to say never. “Who is this new interest?” Susan asked.
“Herman Washburn, a biker who lives in Hammond.”
That caught Susan totally by surprise. While she didn’t doubt Miss Vera, Susan found it difficult to picture the little old lady wearing leather and straddling the back of a Hog.
“Enough about me. How are you, dearie?” Vera’s big, brown eyes sparkled with the glimmer of youth. “I heard you had a bad fall.”
“I’m fine, thanks. Boy, word sure travels fast in Palmetto.”
“Honey, Twitter has nothing on country gossip.” She gave Susan’s hand a squeeze. “I saw Myrtle giving you a hard time this morning. Just because her daddy was once mayor of Palmetto, she thinks she can tell everyone what to do. A curmudgeon, that’s what she is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that woman smile.
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