by Pamela Morsi
“I had a fight with my husband,” Melody repeated. “I love him and he’s angry at me. I can’t think about anything else. I can’t do anything else.”
“Is that what you’re going to tell Mrs. Converse? That you can’t do your job because you’ve got troubles at home?” Erica asked. “It just so happens that I had a fight with my husband last night, too. This is not the best day of my life, either. But I took on this responsibility, and I’ve got to follow through with it.”
Melody waved away her comparison. “It’s not the same,” she said. “Gabe is my whole life. You...you’re hardly even married. Just a divorce waiting to happen.”
Erica was incredulous. “Why would you say something like that? You know nothing about me and nothing about my marriage.”
Even with a red, runny nose, Melody managed a haughty expression.
“I know that you lie and cheat and pretend to be happily married while you screw around behind your husband’s back.”
“What?” Completely clueless, Erica looked at the woman. “You are completely off base with that.”
Melody rolled her eyes. “Denial is more than a river in Egypt,” she said snottily.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Erica said. “Oh, you don’t? You forget. I was there.” Melody rose to her feet and pointed her finger in Erica’s face. “When Rayliss and Darla said what they said, I saw your face.”
Erica searched her brain trying to recall whatever Melody was talking about, what she was so furious about. The thing about “seeing her face” and Rayliss and Darla. That could only have been when Callie called in sick and those two harpies suggested that she’d been with Tom. Melody was there, but surely she couldn’t know about that.
Erica had completely discounted anything happening between her husband and Callie. Was Melody suggesting she was wrong about that?
“What do you know about Tom?” she demanded.
Erica’s harsh tone temporarily sobered Melody. “I...I don’t know anything about him. Except that he’s married to a faithless woman like you.”
“What? Faithless?” Erica repeated. “I love my husband.”
“Yeah, sure,” Melody said. “But not so much that you wouldn’t get involved with Dr. Glover.”
“Dr. Glover?” Erica was incredulous. “You think I’m involved with Dr. Glover? That is simply ridiculous.”
“There’s no use in denying it,” Melody said. “Callie slept with him to get back at you. I saw your face. I know you were having an affair.”
“I was not, am not, having an affair with anybody,” Erica stated firmly, loudly, harshly. “I am sick to death of the gossip in this place. And I’m not going to listen to another word of it.” She stiffened her backbone. “I have a roomful of women waiting on a workshop. So I’m going back in there to do what I get paid for. You need to straighten up, get your head together and get in there or go tell Mrs. Converse why not.”
Erica stormed out. As she walked down the hall, she deliberately tried not to think about what Melody had said. It was just too confusing. And she also tried not to speculate on whether or not her coworker might show up to help her. She would do what she had to do and figure everything out later.
By the time she got to the workshop classroom, she had her game face on. With a smile, she walked through the door and calmly made her way directly to the podium.
“Good morning, Medical Records Professionals.”
Erica finished her presentation and thought it had gone well, even if she did say so herself. She introduced Dr. Glover, the first speaker, and made her way to the back of the room near the doorway.
Dr. Glover was, of course, young and charming, and the women in the room immediately adored him. He also seemed to be a natural at teaching, with a knack for anticipating the right questions and boiling down explanations as he presented the ins and outs of e-script prescription practices.
Erica took the opportunity to quietly step out to go to the ladies’ room. She pretended to herself that she simply needed to use the facilities. But she was also curious to see if Melody was still in the bathroom stall.
She was not. The place was quiet and deserted. Erica was relieved at first, but then posed a question to herself. If Melody wasn’t in the workshop and she wasn’t in the restroom, where in the devil was she?
Maybe she was hanging back until Glover finished. She obviously had a problem with the guy.
Erica glanced at herself in the mirror and shook her head. Could that thing in the cafeteria really have been about Glover? Did those women really think she would have an affair with him? She found the whole idea incredulous. She was simply not the kind of person who would cheat. How could anyone think that she was? And a rumor like that could be dangerous. What if Glover had been married? People could be hurt by things like that. Or the story could have gotten back to Tom, though she was sure he would never believe it for an instant.
The idea that Callie might have had sex with Glover to get back at her was a wild idea. Callie had a crush on the guy. If she got involved with him, it was for herself, not as some kind of payback to Erica.
By the time Erica made it back to the workshop, the pharmacy presentation was winding down and Mrs. Maizika from the Department of Nursing was waiting in the wings.
Dr. Glover finished to enthusiastic applause, and as he gathered up his materials, Erica went up and introduced Mrs. Maizika. The rugged old nurse took her place behind the podium and began reading in a monotone voice instructions for interpreting electronic nursing notes.
Erica mentally rolled her eyes. Next time they have to come up with someone better than this, she told herself.
She saw Dr. Glover waiting just outside the doorway, and she joined him as he walked down the hall.
“How’d I do?” he asked.
“You were great and you know it,” she answered. “The ladies love you.”
“Yep, it’s the story of my life,” he quipped. “I’ll bet every one of them in there is married.”
Erica nodded vaguely and gave him a half smile.
“Callie Torreno isn’t married,” she said.
He was caught up short, but only for an instant. “Ah,” he said. “So you finally heard. You may be the last person in the hospital to know.”
“It’s true then?”
He nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“Wow. I didn’t even think that you liked her,” Erica said. “I don’t,” he answered. “It just...it just happened.” “Having sex with people doesn’t ‘just happen,”’ she pointed out.
“This time it did,” Glover said. “The woman shows up at my door one night, completely uninvited and unannounced. She just throws herself at me. She obviously wanted sex, pure and simple. She was not asking for a relationship or even a date. It was just sex. I admit, she’s got a nice body. And it had been a while for me. We were both free. I had a condom. I couldn’t think of a reason not to.”
“So you did.”
Glover nodded. “I’m not proud of it,” he said. “But I’m not ashamed, either. We’re both adults. Adults do that kind of thing. I generally don’t do it with people from the workplace. It can make things awkward, as it has this time. She apparently offered the details all over the hospital, with lots of embarrassing anecdotes.”
“Not too embarrassing,” Erica said. “If I remember correctly, she gave you pretty high marks in the lover boy department.”
Erica looked at the man’s face. He was blushing.
She thought about telling him what Melody suspected, what maybe everybody suspected. But she decided against it. Erica liked him. She enjoyed his company. It wasn’t really his fault that some gossipy people had misinterpreted her relationship with him. Still, it was probably a good idea to keep a bit more professional distance between them.
“I’ve got to get back,” she said. “Thank you for an excellent presentation.”
He grinned that boyish grin at her. She gave a little wave and headed back
up the hall.
Erica returned to the workshop, where Mrs. Maizika’s monotone continued. Glancing around the room, Erica decided it was safe to say that a lot of the attendees were nodding off or tuning her out. Erica grabbed up one of the notepads and wrote some suggestions for things that were absolutely essential to know about electronic nursing notes. When the question and answer period came and nobody raised a hand, Erica posed the queries herself, one by one. Mrs. Maizika was better off-the-cuff than she was reading from her text. That even spurred some inquiries from the audience. Ultimately, Erica thought, it hadn’t turned out as badly as it could have.
The Dietary Department showed up with lunch trays, and everyone got up to stretch, visit the bathroom and chat among themselves.
Melody still hadn’t shown up. Erica went down to the department to look for her. The staff had already gone to the cafeteria. Mrs. Converse was in her office eating a sandwich, and she waved Erica inside.
“I was going to come down to the workshop as soon as I finished eating,” she said. “It’s just going to be you and me.” “What?”
“Melody has gone home for the day,” Mrs. Converse said. “In fact, she’s on a three-day suspension for insubordination.” “Oh my God,” Erica said.
“I think it will be all right, ultimately. She’s got some kind of family crisis. That happens to her periodically. I’m sure she’ll be back here next week doing what she does best.” “What about the workshop?”
“You’ve got the syllabus,” Mrs. Converse said. “You simply teach the material to the best of your ability. I’ll be there to answer any questions that you can’t handle.”
Erica felt a momentary knot of fear. “I haven’t rehearsed Melody’s presentation,” she confessed. “I’ve only read over it a couple of times.”
“Well, a couple of times will have to be enough.”
“I can’t believe that Melody would walk out on me like this,” Erica said.
Mrs. Converse shook her head. “I blame myself,” she said. “I know what she’s like. It’s one thing to admire and respect your husband—it’s quite another to let him make every plan, every choice, every decision. That can undermine a woman’s belief in herself. Melody is, by far and away, the most knowledgeable employee I have on EMR. I really thought it might be an excellent opportunity for her to broaden herself as a person and heighten her value in this department as an employee.” The woman shook her head. “But I was wrong about her. At least I am for now. She doesn’t have enough faith in herself to grow into the kind of leader we need.”
Erica had no comment. She was still reeling from the reality of having to do the entire afternoon presentation by herself and with her boss watching.
Chapter 20
TOM CHECKED HIS EMAIL at lunch to find two more messages about the Buick. One was from the guy he’d already been communicating with, and he was willing to come closer to the asking price, pay cash and was ready to take possession sight unseen. Those three things together convinced Tom that he was a dealer and that he was trying to pick up a bargain to hold on to through the recession. Tom didn’t like it. He didn’t think Mrs. Gilfred was going to like it. But it was her call, not his.
The second email was a new nibble. This guy was a regular handyman car buff in Maryland. He liked the pictures, was very interested in the car, but he also sounded a little scared of the price. Tom was sure he was more the kind of person Mrs. Gilfred had in mind. And he wanted to check him out before Guffy felt obligated to take the dealer’s offer.
The shop was busy, and he’d let the guys know that Cliff would not be coming back. The two experienced guys weren’t surprised. He imagined they’d seen it coming for a while.
Briscoe was shocked, but pleasantly so.
“Does this mean I can get his job, maybe?” he asked Tom. “By the time you know enough to do his job, you won’t have to ask me. I’ll be asking you.”
Still, he liked the kid’s enthusiasm. Briscoe was trying and he was learning. He wasn’t afraid to ask questions. He was deferential to the other guys and to the customers who came in. It was a positive start. He also had pictures of the baby to show. Coe, as they were calling him, looked to Tom pretty much like every other baby in the world. But Briscoe thought he was amazing. Tom found that to be an admirable quality.
At three he went over to the elementary school. Quint was all a-chatter about Cody Raza being sent to the principal’s office for punching a second-grader during playground time. Quint was very disappointed that he’d been on the jungle gym and had missed the whole thing.
“That guy got what he deserved,” Quint assured his father. “He said that first-graders were babies. Babies! Like we are in kindergarten or something. Cody really showed him.” “You know, Quint,” Tom told him, “it would have been better if Cody had made his point with words rather than with his fists.”
“I know, Dad,” Quint said. “But Cody’s not really a words guy. He’s a slug ’em kind of guy.”
“Well, I’m not Cody’s dad,” Tom said. “But I’m your dad, and I’d rather you were a ‘words kind of guy.’ Fighting is always the last resort.”
Quint agreed. Or at least agreed to try to agree.
It was a half block later before Tom realized that at no time in that father-son discussion had he suggested that Quint should get Erica’s opinion. That they should hear her thoughts on the matter. That they should rely on her judgment. Erica was his parenting expert. But he hadn’t needed her on this one. He was finding his feet. He was beginning to know the answers without having to pose the questions.
He thought about what he’d said to Briscoe that morning about knowing how to do the job. Tom was finally able to listen to his son, like he would to a misfiring engine and know without looking which spark plug was connected to the wrong wire.
Once Quint was eating his snack and doing his homework, Tom was back on the job. He had to pull the engine out of a Firebird. Heaving out an 800-pound chunk of machinery was always fraught with potential problems. But it was one of those afternoons when everything worked the way it was supposed to. He had it locked down and secured on the hoist in no time.
When he turned to see Erica standing at the doorway, he left it where it was and walked over, wiping his hands.
“How did your EMR thing go?” he asked her.
“Great,” she answered. “Better than great. Spectacular.”
She was grinning ear to ear, looking happier than he’d seen her in a week or more.
“Well, I’m proud of you,” he said.
“You should be even more proud than you know,” she told him. “Melody chickened out on me, and I had to do her part and my part all on my own. And Mrs. Converse was seated in the room, watching me the whole time.”
“Wow. You go, girl,” he said, and raised his hand for a fist bump.
Erica laughed and tapped his knuckles with her own.
“So I’m going home, fixing us a celebratory dinner and planning a fantastic weekend.”
Tom winced. “I’m going to be late,” he said. “I’ve got to go by and see the owner of the Buick. Working shorthanded like this, I’m not going to have any other time. But I’d love to celebrate with you when I get there.”
He watched the sparkle drain out of her smile, and he hated having to do it. The whole argument from the night before might have blown over, but he was sure their emotions were both still bruised.
Momentarily he thought about just letting go of the whole problem of the Buick while so much was going on. Then he reminded himself that tomorrow was Saturday again. And it was another Saturday when his wife was going to have to drag their dirty clothes and their six-year-old to some coin-operated laundry. The commission on the Buick would buy her a new washer and dryer. In the long run, his wife would appreciate that a lot more than having her husband show up for dinner.
“I’ll try not to be too late,” he told her.
Erica nodded and left.
With a sigh, Tom went
back to work. The Firebird’s engine was still in fair shape. Fair enough that he thought it could be salvaged for parts. The owner wanted to replace the 250 straight six with the much more prized 5.7-liter small block V-8. He had it buckled in by closing time. He locked up and headed to Leon Valley.
Tom pulled into his usual spot in front of Mrs. Gilfred’s home. For once he was able to get to the front door without being waylaid by Miss Warner. Tom chuckled to himself as he thought of the woman’s run-in with the peeper. The lady was certainly dancing around the fact that she was so nosy she was looking in her neighbor’s window. The policemen didn’t find it at all amusing. Neither did Guffy, who publicly scolded the woman as a busybody.
“If you want to know what’s going on in my house,” she told Miss Warner sharply, “then knock on the door. I’d be happy to let you inside to eavesdrop in safety and comfort.” Half the folks on the street had a hard time keeping a straight face.
Which was good. Having some creep stalking the neighborhood, even assuming he was a harmless creep, is unsettling for everybody. A bit of comic relief was very welcome.
Guffy answered the door and, as always, she seemed delighted to see him.
“Can you stay to supper?” she asked him immediately. “I’m thawing out a bit of stew that was pretty good the first time around. And it would only take me a minute to stir up a pan of corn bread.”
“No, no dinner for me tonight,” he told her. “My wife is fixing something special, and I promised that I’d be home as soon as I could.”
“All right then,” she said. “So what have you got to show me? More cheesecake photos of my Clara?”
Tom laughed. “No more hot pics,” he said. “But the photos are working. We’ve got a firm offer from the Seattle guy. And we’ve caught the eye of a genuine romantic in Maryland.”
The two walked into the kitchen and sat down together at the table. Tom pulled up the email he’d received and turned the computer toward her so that she could read the words for herself.
He took a slip of paper and a pencil out of his pocket to make note of Mrs. Gilfred’s comments or counteroffer.