The Living Room

by Robert Whitlow

  Jeff turned back to the computer. Amy wanted to tell him about the luncheon with Natalie and Ms. Burris, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere. Amy left him and climbed the stairs to the writing room. However, instead of working on Deeds of Darkness, she opened her journal and wrote an entry about the simple yet profound affirmation given to her by Ms. Burris. A wounded place in her heart had received a measure of healing.

  The following morning Megan didn’t exhibit anything except typical teenage grogginess and irritability.

  The parking lot for the law firm was deserted when Amy arrived shortly after 7:00 a.m. She punched in the code to disarm the security system. The firm had long ago replaced the old key lock with an electronic system.

  The mansion seemed especially large, old, and creaky when no one else was there. Glad it was daylight, Amy pushed away her fears and went into her office. Without distractions she hoped she could finish the dictation and leave plenty of time to organize Mr. Phillips’s mail before he arrived. She was typing at a rapid pace when an unexpected sound at her doorway startled her. It was Chris.

  “You almost gave me a heart attack!” Amy said. “Why did you sneak up on me like that?”

  “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I saw your car in the lot and wanted to see what brought you in so early.”

  “Mr. Phillips wants me to finish a memo he dictated yesterday after he met with you. Basically, he’s outlining what he wants you to do in several cases and who you’re to report to about them.”

  “That’s a relief. During our meeting it seemed like he was asking me questions so he could pass the cases off to someone else when I was fired.”

  “That’s not what this is about.”

  “Okay. I’ll look forward to getting it.”

  Amy waited for Chris to move on, but the young lawyer stayed put.

  “Is there anything else?” Amy asked.

  “Not for me. But when I told Laura you had a dream about Michael Baldwin, she made me promise that I would ask you to tell me anything you see or hear about me or my cases.”

  “How much did you tell her about the Westside Lighting case?” Amy asked. “That information is confidential.”

  Chris glanced at the door to Mr. Phillips’s office.

  “When I thought I might lose my job, I had to give her a reason. I couldn’t expect her to settle for vague generalities.”

  Amy remembered her promise to Mr. Phillips that she would let him know if Chris did anything improper. Breaching client confidentiality, even with spouses, was a big deal.

  “You know we have to keep firm business within these walls.”

  Chris eyed her suspiciously.

  “Are you going to blow me up in front of Mr. Phillips over something that minor? I came to you as humbly as I know how, and you’re kicking me when I’m down. That doesn’t seem like the Christian thing to do.”

  twenty-six

  Chris returned to his office without a promise from Amy to keep her mouth shut. Obeying the rules was a part of working at a law office. No exceptions. Chris’s final comment that he didn’t tell Laura anything about the Westside Lighting case except what was already part of the public record at the courthouse kept Amy from immediately firing off an e-mail to Mr. Phillips. But she had doubts that Chris was telling the truth. His explanation sounded like an effort at backpedaling.

  Amy sat at her computer. She really didn’t want to cause more trouble for Chris. Brand-new lawyers knew how to do legal research and write briefs, but the nuts and bolts of the practice of law came from mentoring and experience. She wondered how much attention Mr. Phillips and the other partners had given to training Chris.

  Amy finished the memo and put it on Mr. Phillips’s desk. She also sent a copy as an e-mail attachment to Chris. He acknowledged with a simple “Thanks” that did nothing to ease the tension between them. Amy then called Dr. Simmons’s office and scheduled an appointment for Megan at 3:45 p.m.

  A few minutes later she heard Mr. Phillips arrive and begin moving around his office. He left a few minutes later without letting her know where he was going or what he was going to do. Amy double-checked his calendar and didn’t see an appointment outside the office. A few minutes later Janelle routed a call for Mr. Phillips to Amy’s desk. It was Ken Bell, a longtime client and one of Mr. Phillips’s golfing buddies. Mr. Bell was a Southern gentleman who always treated Amy with respect.

  “When do you expect him back?” Mr. Bell asked.

  “I’m not sure. He was only here a few minutes then left without letting me know. I can try to reach him or you might want to call his cell phone.”

  “I’ll do that. Oh, and he’s thrilled to have you back at the office. He brought it up when we were playing the Old Sycamore course last week. Now that you’re a big-time author, how did Harold convince you to come in and put up with him every day?”

  “I needed to work. All he promised was a temporary position until Emily returns from maternity leave.”

  “I wouldn’t try to lure you away from Harold, but if he ever fails to appreciate your skills, my son could use an administrative assistant at our business. Keep it in mind.”

  Mr. Bell developed commercial property. Amy had never met his son.

  “Thanks.”

  As soon as the call ended, Amy buzzed Janelle.

  “Did Mr. Phillips tell you where he was going or when he’d be back?”

  “I overheard him tell Mr. Jessup that he had to go to an unexpected meeting about the Thomas Trust and would be out the rest of the day.”

  “That would be the Thompson Trust. Send his calls through to me if the person doesn’t want to go to voice mail. I have to leave around three o’clock to pick up my daughter at the high school and take her to the doctor.”

  “Okay. And thanks again for what you said to me yesterday. It made me want to do an even better job.”

  Janelle’s comment made Amy wonder if she should use a more positive approach with Chris.

  Midafternoon Amy left the office and drove to the high school to pick up Megan. Cross Plains High was an uninspiring collection of squat brown buildings. The most imposing structure on the campus was the new gymnasium. The football team played at a municipal stadium five blocks from the school. If the team won the game, the players would walk back to the school in a celebratory parade. When they lost, they boarded buses and rode to the locker room without looking out the windows.

  Amy parked in a visitor spot and went inside to the office. As she waited for Megan, Ms. Robbins, the guidance counselor, came in.

  “I heard the page for Megan on the intercom and wanted to say hello,” Ms. Robbins said with a smile. “Has she said anything about Nate Drexel recently?”

  “No. Is there another problem?”

  “Not that I know about. Nate was moved out of her English class, which will cut down on the number of times they are in the same room.”

  “That’s good.”

  “What brings you to the school today?”

  “Megan has a doctor’s appointment.”

  Amy described the scene in Megan’s bedroom when she got home from work the previous day.

  “There is a history of diabetes in our family, and even though there’s probably nothing to it, my husband and I thought Megan should have a checkup.”

  “Sure,” Ms. Robbins replied thoughtfully. “Is she taking any medication on a regular basis?”

  “No.”

  Ms. Robbins lowered her voice. “You may want the doctor to run a random drug screen as part of any testing.”

  Amy couldn’t hide her shock. Before she could say anything else, Megan came into the office.

  “Let’s go,” Megan said.

  Amy stared at Ms. Robbins, but there was no way to ask the counselor a follow-up question without tipping off Megan. The counselor simply nodded her head.

  “Did you sign me out?” Megan asked.

  “Yes,” Amy said.

  “Then come on. The last time I had a
doctor’s appointment I was late, and we had to wait an extra hour.”

  As they walked toward the front doors of the school, Amy tried to come up with a plausible reason why she needed to go back and talk to Ms. Robbins.

  “We have plenty of time to make it to the doctor’s office,” Amy said. “I think I should check with Ms. Robbins about the Nate Drexel situation.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. He was booted out of my English class, and he’s hanging out with Jessica Kraal. They’re in the same homeroom, and she’s wanted to date him all year. I don’t know her, but Bethany says she likes to go after the ‘bad’ boys.”

  When they reached the front doors, Amy held back, but Megan pushed a door open and stepped outside.

  “Mom!” she said, glancing over her shoulder at her mother. “Let’s go!”

  Amy reluctantly followed. They rode in silence to the doctor’s office. On the way, they passed the spot near the little bridge where Amy saw Carl Fincannon’s leg. She sent up a silent prayer for wisdom in handling her own dilemma.

  Dr. Simmons had been Megan’s pediatrician since birth. The white-haired doctor fit every stereotype of a kindly family physician. He always looked a child in the eye when he talked, and his calm voice had a soothing effect on fractious youngsters. Today Amy was the one who felt fractious.

  After Megan was weighed and her height measured, they went to an examination room where a nurse took Megan’s temperature and checked her blood pressure.

  “Both within normal limits,” the nurse said when she finished. “Dr. Simmons will be in to see you shortly.”

  “What are you going to tell Dr. Simmons?” Megan asked after they were alone.

  “You need to speak for yourself,” Amy responded. “And tell him the truth.”

  “Okay,” Megan said slowly. “I’ll shock him with the news that I took a nap when I got home after a long day at school, and you and Dad didn’t think I woke up quick enough. Oh, and I was thirsty. After supper, I felt fine, and I feel great today.”

  “What happened at school yesterday?”

  “Uh, the usual stuff. Alecia was out sick, but she came back today.”

  “What were her symptoms?”

  “A sore throat, but she doesn’t have strep so she wasn’t contagious.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Dr. Simmons came in. He greeted both Amy and Megan before asking Megan to sit on the examination table.

  “What brings you in today?”

  “I’m not sure. My mom should tell you.”

  Amy cleared her throat and told him what happened.

  “I’m not trying to play doctor,” she said, “but my first thought was she might have diabetes. There is a history of diabetes in our family.” Amy looked at Megan. “But if you think there might be another explanation, we want to hear it, of course.”

  “Diabetes type 1 can pop up at this age.”

  The doctor listened to Megan’s chest, checked her ears, and looked down her throat.

  “You’ve grown another inch. You’re probably going to be about the same height as your mother. And you’ve also gained weight, which is a good thing. Have you noticed the need to go to the bathroom a lot more often?”

  “No.”

  “Have you been hungrier than usual?”

  “No.”

  “She ate a lot for supper last night,” Amy interjected.

  “Only because I love Chinese,” Megan replied.

  “Other than a craving for Chinese food, how has your appetite been?” Dr. Simmons asked with a smile.

  “About the same,” Megan said.

  “Is that correct?” the doctor asked Amy.

  “Yes.”

  “What about blurred vision?”

  “No.”

  “Other than the nap you took yesterday, have you been sleeping a lot more?”

  “No.” Megan hesitated. “Sometimes I turn my light back on and read after Mom tells me good night.”

  “How long have you been doing that?” Amy asked.

  “A few weeks, but you told me to tell the truth.”

  “Which is necessary for me to properly evaluate you,” Dr. Simmons said. “It doesn’t sound like you’ve developed type 1 diabetes, the most common variety for young people, but it’s easy enough to check with a blood test. I’ll send you down the hall to the lab so the technician can draw some blood. It’s just a little prick in the arm. She might ask you to let a smaller child watch to see how easy it is. Would that be okay?”

  “Sure,” Megan answered.

  “Thanks.” The doctor turned to Amy. “We’ll call if anything is amiss, or you can contact the office tomorrow afternoon after three o’clock for the results. In the unlikely event a problem shows up, we’ll need to take another blood sample following an overnight fast.”

  “Will the test check for anything other than diabetes?” Amy asked, trying not to sound overly anxious.

  “Yes, it will be a broad spectrum test, although I don’t think there’s going to be a problem with Megan’s cholesterol level.” Dr. Simmons patted Megan on the shoulder. “I saw your name in the program for the Christmas recital at Ms. Carlton’s dance studio. One of my granddaughters has started going there. Her name is Candace Jordan. I was on call that weekend and couldn’t come to see her.”

  “Candace was in my group.” Megan perked up. “She’s a sweetie.”

  “I think so, too.” The doctor smiled.

  And with that, he was gone. Megan hopped down from the examination table.

  “Candace has great balance,” she said. “And she’s really learned how to point her toes. I had no idea she was related to Dr. Simmons.”

  “I think her mother is Dr. Simmons’s youngest daughter,” Amy said distractedly.

  They walked down the hall to the waiting area for the lab. No sooner had they sat down than an older black woman came to get Megan. Wanting to ask more questions about the scope of the blood test, Amy stood up to follow.

  “You can wait here,” the woman said. “The lab is cramped.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, Mom,” Megan said, then turned to the technician. “Dr. Simmons said you might want to use me to show a little kid it’s not too scary to have blood drawn.”

  “Thanks, but right now you’re my only customer.”

  Amy plopped down in her chair. There was a TV in the upper corner of the waiting area. It was tuned to a show featuring an abrasive female host who was more interested in listening to herself talk than interviewing guests. Amy fidgeted while the woman berated a mother whose fourteen-year-old daughter had taken the family car out for joyrides and caused three wrecks. Amy didn’t want to be a negligent mother, but at the moment, that’s exactly how she felt.

  After leaving Dr. Simmons’s office, they picked up Ian. As soon as he got in the car, he made a comment about the bandage on Megan’s arm.

  “What have you been shooting up?” he asked her.

  “What did you say?” Amy asked sharply before Megan could respond.

  “I’m kidding,” Ian said.

  “They took my blood at the doctor’s office,” Megan said. “You would have cried like a baby.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. Mom, tell Megan how good I did when the doctor had to fix my arm.”

  “You did great.”

  “Because you were so doped up that you didn’t know what was going on,” Megan said.

  Amy didn’t want to hear another reference, joking or otherwise, to drugs.

  “Stop it!” she said. “No one talks in this car until we get home!”

  They were only a few minutes away from the house. Ian hopped out as soon as the car rolled to a stop. Amy and Megan went into the house together.

  “What are you going to do now?” Amy asked her when they reached the kitchen.

  “I’m not going to take a nap, if that’s what you mean. None of my friends at school could believe you were making me go to the doctor just because I went to sleep. Sometimes I wonder what in the world y
ou’re thinking. You know the blood test is going to come back normal.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Megan rolled her eyes and left the room.

  Jeff was running late from work and came in as Amy was putting the final touches on supper.

  “I need to take a quick shower,” he said. “We got into some nasty places today in a cluster of rental units not far from the county recreation center. I couldn’t believe people were living in there up until a few months ago. There were needles on the floors and all kinds of drug paraphernalia lying around—”

  “Take your shower,” Amy interrupted. “We need to eat before supper is ruined.”

  As soon as they were seated at the supper table, Jeff asked about Megan’s trip to the doctor.

  “He doesn’t think I have diabetes, but they’re doing a blood test anyway,” Megan replied. “And do you remember the cute little blonde named Candace who was in the Christmas recital? I think she’s either six or seven.”

  “Uh, there were a lot of little blond-haired girls hopping across the stage,” Jeff replied. “It’s hard for me to tell one from the other.”

  “Anyway, she’s Dr. Simmons’s granddaughter. There’s going to be a special practice Saturday morning for the spring show, and I hope she’ll be there.”

  “Saturday morning?” Amy asked. “I didn’t know anything about that.”

  “Don’t worry, I already have a ride.”

  “Who’s taking you?” Amy asked.

  “Mr. Ryan is going to pick me up. I told him I had to be home at eleven o’clock from the pizza party because I have dance class the following morning, and he said he’d like to watch. He’s also going to pick up Molly Prichard.”

  “No,” Amy said flatly. “We’ll take you to dance practice. And you don’t have to come home early from the pizza party because of dance practice.”

  “I only said that because I was too embarrassed to admit I have such a lame curfew for an adult-supervised event.”

  Jeff spoke. “Amy, don’t forget we volunteered to be at the Connors’ house at nine o’clock on Saturday to help them pack up for their move to Oklahoma.”

  “You volunteered,” Amy corrected.

  “Okay, but I’m sure Tammy could use the help.”