CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Worth
The sun once again stole its way between the drapes, but this time, the burning came from within. I recognized it as desire. This was unlike me. The adornments of the night never interested me in the daylight. They were disposable, like the tiny bottles from the mini bar glittering on the floor. As I focused, I made out that there were, indeed, things glittering on the floor but they were her diamond-headed pins, not broken shards of glass from bottles heaved against a wall in drunken disgust.
She lay against me, her mouth slightly opened in a pout of innocence. Her thick lashes lay against her cheeks and I could not help myself. I bent and kissed her eyelids, pushing back the blankets so I could run my palm over her nipples and down into her soft womanhood. She stirred and in her sleep, rolled to face me, pressing herself against my cock, already hard and yearning. Reaching for the nightstand, I soon rolled on a condom. A moment later, her body accepted mine. Both of us lay on our side as I rocked back and forth gently. We came. I with the realization that I’d never let her go and she, in the orgasmic confines of an awakening dream.
I held her as she slowly surfaced, my eyes memorizing the curve of her hip, the texture of her perfect skin and the symmetry of her beautiful breasts. She was, in my opinion, perfection. The idea that she would have fallen into the world of a marriage of convenience sent fury through me. She’d always been mine.
“Good morning,” whispered rosy lips chafed by my stubble.
“Good morning to you, queenie,” I teased her.
“Not nice,” she managed, stifling a morning yawn. “Need coffee.”
“Already on the way up,” I told her and the timing proved me right as there was a knock at the door. I pulled the blankets over her nakedness and grabbed my pants as I headed to open it. The bellboy wheeled in a cart filled with domed dishes. I tipped him and indicated I would take it from there.
I went into the bathroom and came out, tossing a courtesy robe to her. She slid into it as she folded her knee beneath her and came off the bed to inspect the cart of food. Her eyes lighted when she spotted the juice and she drank it quickly. “Geez, I was thirsty,” she said.
“That’s because you snored all night,” I teased and she blushed, quickly wiping the corner of her mouth seeking dried drool. “See what I mean?” I pointed out.
“What?”
“You didn’t snore but my suggestion of it caused you to behave with guilt and embarrassment. That’s what I mean about people… they are what you tell them.”
She wrinkled her nose and took another sip. “Well, you can keep that manipulation to yourself,” she responded saucily. “You’re not as smart as you think you are, you know.”
“Is that so?” I prodded her and was rewarded with a flash of those green eyes.
“Not everyone is as gullible as you might think. It will backfire on you and you’ll lose credibility,” she pointed out.
“There is no shortage of patients, sweet Auggie.”
She looked at me doubtfully and with some disapproval. Why did that suddenly bother me? I don’t remember ever worrying about seeking approval.
“Time I got home,” she commented, picking up the pieces of her wardrobe from the floor.
I took this as a signal and nodded. I had some of those many appointments waiting.
***
She was looking out the window and frowning as I drove her home. “What’s wrong?” I prompted her.
“Do you by any chance know Mrs. Jessup, the lady who had all the marvelous barbecues at Derby?”
“I’ve heard her name, but don’t know her personally… why?”
“Mother asked me to visit her. Her family just put her in Sunset Village. Do you know the place?” she asked in a voice that explained her sadness.
“Yes, I do. I did some interning there one summer.”
“Worth, I don’t ever want to end up in a place like that.”
“You won’t, darling Auggie, I promise.”
“I don’t think Mrs. Jessup ever thought she would, either. Her family manipulated her out of money. Left her penniless. She never worked, you know, so she’s reliant on Medicaid now and that’s where she’s gone. It’s so sad. It’s breaking my heart.”
This was clearly preying on her mind. I knew the Jessups and remembered the old lady. I couldn’t tell Auggie that Mrs. Jessup’s daughter-in-law was on my patient list. “Why don’t you do something to make it better?” I prompted her.
“Like what?” she was truly interested.
“You’ve got that nifty degree. Why don’t you go in and offer some consulting services and see if you can’t get some donations or grants for the place to make life a bit better?”
She scoffed at me. “You mean like a new bench by the front door?”
“Not really,” I said. “More like adding an arts and crafts wing or putting in a small theater where they could watch films. How about a gazebo where they could take tea in a garden with a few flowers?”
“Worth! That’s a wonderful idea! I just thought of something. What if we could buy some of the land behind it, build a stable and keep a few older horses there? We could take the residents on carriage rides. How wonderful would that be? You know, animals are great therapeutic company.”
“So I’ve heard,” I smiled at her. “There, you see? Now you have a challenge. I’m given to understand that you happen to like challenges.”
“I’m with you, aren’t I?” she mocked me, her green eyes luminescent with the delight of her cause.
“Auggie, about that…” I began.
“I know what you’re going to say.” She twisted in her seat and looked out her side window.
“What was I about to say?” I prompted her.
“That we should just consider last night a good time and there’s nothing more to it than that.”
I was dumbstruck by her assumption. Was that my reputation? A goodtime Charlie — love ‘em and leave ‘em? “Actually, Auggie, what I planned to say was that I’m going to consider you my girl, from here on. Would that be agreeable with you?”
Her head swiveled toward me and her eyes were wide. “Like going steady?”
I laughed inwardly at her old-fashioned phrase. “Yes, like going steady,” I agreed good-naturedly. “How does that sound to you?”
“Do I get to wear your class ring?” she asked, smiling.
I could tell this was not a joke with her, but a happy thought. I twisted my college ring off my finger and gave it to her. “I’d be honored,” I said solemnly and she grabbed it, sliding it on her thumb.
“I’ll get a chain for it when I get home,” she said, nodding in approval.
For some reason, everything in my world was so right at that moment. This was a foreign feeling.
***
After dropping Auggie off, I headed toward my office. It was only now that I let myself consider the ramifications of Jervis’ Jezebel Langford. I knew the safest route for the time being was to keep my mouth shut. I doubted very much whether she would blow the whistle on herself and for now, what Auggie didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her.
I finally arrived at the office, using the back door so I could shower quickly and put on some fresh clothing I had learned to keep there. I poked my head out the door and saw my waiting room held a patient.
“Go in, please, and make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right with you,” I invited her as I made my way into the lobby and headed to Patsy’s desk.
“How long have you been here?” she asked. “I was about to cancel your appointments for the day.”
I ignored her question. “Mrs. Jessup…when is she due in next?”
Patsy looked surprised. “Well, as a matter of fact, she’s coming in this afternoon. She’s your last patient for the day.”
“Good. Call and confirm,” I ordered and left Patsy with a look of bewilderment on her pretty face. I normally didn’t give a damn about who was on my schedule and I knew the request to confirm would throw her. Oh, well…it’s time I became less predictable.
While waiting for the last patient, Mrs. Jessup, I went out to confer with Patsy on the future patient load.
Patsy was in a state of anxiety.
“What’s up?” I asked, concerned by her behavior.
“You’re overbooked.”
“I’m what?” I wasn’t sure I understood why she was freaking out about that.
“Word has gotten out that one of the most eligible bachelors in town is taking appointments and the phone has been ringing off the hook.” She was clearly overwhelmed and her normally flirting demeanor was becoming a bit bitchy.
“So, this is a problem… why?” I was still trying to figure out the issue.
“Because you don’t have enough appointments so I have to sift through and figure out which ones are legitimately crazy and let the ones who are just hot for you go somewhere else.” She was taking herself quite seriously, I could tell.
“Patsy, it’s not your job to sort through the patients and decide who is more needy,” I pointed out.
“Then do we do it on a first-call, first booked basis?” She truly was a novice.
“Of course not, silly. First, we choose the wives that are the hottest looking. They’re here to be reassured of that and when they leave, they’ll tell the other wives about coming here. Then we book their husbands because that gives us something to hold over each one’s head. We leave the crazies for Jervis. He’s good with them.”
She looked at me in amazement. “You’re kidding, right?” she asked in awe.
“No… not at all. He really is good with them,” I said, leaving her with her mouth hanging open. I walked into my office and she sent the next patient in.
From that point on, Patsy and I developed a system. I would take each patient in turn and when that one was done, I followed the woman out and gave Patsy a thumbs down rating if she was a dog. From that point on, that patient was told it would be at least three months before another appointment became available. It was a pure situation of skimming the cream off the top and pouring the sour milk in the direction of Jervis. Patsy finally caught on and things improved dramatically moving forward.
***
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Jessup,” I said politely as I invited the bitch to perch her fat ass in my designer chair. She disgusted me, a drastic departure from the normal apathy I felt toward any of my patients.
“Dr. LaViere. I was surprised when your secretary called to confirm. Actually, I’d forgotten we had an appointment this afternoon.”
“I suspected as much,” I said to her raised eyebrows. “Now then.” I consulted her chart and my notes. “How is the situation between your husband and yourself progressing?” As if I cared.
“David is having an affair. I know it for certain now.” She stopped a moment and drew out a tissue, dabbing at her overly made-up eyes. She was born theatrical. I knew she’d come from somewhere on the west coast and most of our set considered her trash.
“And how do you know this?” I pushed her.
“I found the key to his desk and in his bottom, right-hand drawer, I found a pair of women’s panties.” She poured out this last part with a fresh dab to her eyes as she thought about what she would say next. I nodded to her, encouraging her to go on. “I have no idea who it is, but she must be a cow because they were hardly dainty.”
“Has he been acting strangely?” I asked.
“David has always been a bit eccentric, so it’s difficult to tell, but lately he’s acting nervous, almost jumpy.”
“Do you have a staff, Mrs. Jessup? Could he be interested in someone in your home?” I was headed somewhere, but she thought I was being conciliatory.
“No, no. It’s just the two of us right now. We put his mother in a home, you know,” she said callously. She must have realized it because she hurriedly added, “She needed more care than either of us could provide, you see. She’s on dialysis.”
I nodded, as though sympathetic.
She continued, “We’ll be hiring staff soon.”
I let go of the comment that obviously they could have hired someone to look after her mother-in-law at home. “Mrs. Jessup, perhaps you and your husband should come in and see me together for some couples counseling,” I suggested.
“I don’t think it would help. David is… well, very private.”
I’ll bet he is, I thought. “Mrs. Jessup, would you say that you and your husband have a healthy sex life?”
I heard her intake of breath, just as I knew I would. She began to cry in earnest now. I was not moved.
“We… that is… we don’t share a room. Haven’t for two years,” she finally sputtered.
“Is this your preference or his?” I asked, driving in the knife.
“Well, a woman can only be turned down so many times before she has to remove herself from the opportunity, doctor.”
“Have you talked to him about this? Perhaps there’s something you can do to remedy the separation?” I asked. I knew I was pushing and it was working.
“Yes! I ask him about it all the time!” She was crying openly now. I could literally see the guilt pouring out of her wretched mouth.
“And what did he say?”
“He said he just wasn’t attracted to me any longer.”
“Did your husband say why?” I was going for her throat.
“A woman my age can’t keep her girlish figure forever, you know. So what if I’ve put on a few pounds? He wouldn’t say that was it, but I knew. I’m so miserable, doctor,” she cried.
“Yes, I can see that.” I observed her dramatics. “Were your husband and his mother close?” I pushed again.
She looked up with a quizzical look on her face. “How did you know? Yes, yes they are. David didn’t want her to move, but she was too much to handle.” The tears had turned off immediately and the pretense had disappeared.
“Would you like my advice, Mrs. Jessup?” I waited, letting the silence lengthen until she nodded. “Very well, and you may not entirely like it. It is my opinion that the only reason you’re here is due to your unhappy marriage. I believe, Mrs. Jessup, that you have the ability to set things right again. I believe Mr. Jessup is probably suffering from guilt for placing his mother in a home.”
I held up a hand when it seemed she was about to interrupt.
“This may have given him performance issues,” I went on. “Impotence is often a strong indication of guilt. I would suggest that your husband be allowed to minimize that guilt by doing something special for his mother to make up for the abandonment. He should look for opportunities to do that. As for you, perhaps you could feel better about yourself if you set up an appointment with a personal health and fitness assistant.”
Her mouth opened. “Wha—?”
I didn’t give her time to finish, just bulldozed over her. “They’re quite the rage now, among our set. My receptionist can give you the name of someone on your way out. I don’t believe we’re serving any further purpose here, Mrs. Jessup. Why not give the assistant a try? I believe that will resolve all your issues… completely.” I emphasized this last. I knew by including her in “our set” she felt the rush of snobbery it would take to agree to my plan. That was fine. Our set was hardly anything to brag about.
The bitch agreed and stood up to leave. “Thank you so much, doctor,” she said, wiping her eyes one last time for effect. “You’ve saved my marriage,” she claimed and left my office.
I scoffed at her pitiful exit. Her problems were simple: she was a bitch, she maneuvered her husband into taking the old lady’s money and then sent her to a pit, she was fat and over-pampered, and the one thing she could do nothing about was that her husband would never bed her. After all, she’d found his panties.