Marie Ferrarella - Mistletoe and Miracles

“Not that long. The other Dr. Marlowe has been in practice fifteen years,” Rita told her. “Ever since she took it over from Dr. Riemann.”

“Oh,” was all Laurel said. The single word throbbed with preoccupation. Her mind raced with thoughts she was afraid to examine.

Rita began to rise from her desk, as if to see to a task. But then she shrugged and sat down again. “Five minutes,” she said to the boy’s mother.

Laurel’s head jerked up. The receptionist had said something to her but she hadn’t heard the words. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve got five minutes,” Rita told her, enunciating each word as if she were talking to someone who had to read lips. “The session, it’s fifty minutes,” she explained. “You’ve got five more minutes to wait.”

“Oh.” The light dawned on her. Laurel forced a smile to her lips and inclined her head. “Thank you.”

Rita said crisply, “It’s customary to pay up front and then I’ll give you the paperwork so that you can mail it in to your insurance company.”

She didn’t work. Matt hadn’t wanted her to. Hadn’t even wanted her to finish college, saying, at the time, she was “fine” the way she was. She realized later it was all meant to control her. Matt liked being in control of everything and everyone.

Shaking her head, she informed Rita, “There is no insurance company.”

Squaring her shoulders, Rita informed her with feeling, “Then payment is definitely up front.”

“We can make arrangements later,” Trent told Rita as he walked out of his office, catching the tail end of the conversation.

Laurel popped to her feet as if she’d been sitting on a spring that catapulted her into an upright position. Startled, she pressed her hand to her chest as she swung around. “I didn’t hear you.”

“It’s the carpet,” he told her with a smile. “It muffles everything.”

Laurel wasn’t listening. She was looking at her son, aware that she’d been holding her breath.

“Leave Mrs. Greer’s account to me,” Trent told Rita.

It was obvious that this wasn’t what the older woman wanted to hear. Accounts and the billing were her domain. She frowned. “I take care of all the accounts, Dr. Marlowe.”

After several years, Trent had gotten used to Rita and her rather unique ways. At bottom, as Kate had pointed out more than once, the woman was a huge asset. He smiled at Rita. “Change is a good thing, Rita. You should learn to embrace it.”

Rita made a noise under her breath and went to get the copy paper.

“I can pay my bills, Trent,” Laurel informed him. And then she glanced at her son. Cody seemed just as withdrawn into his own world as ever. She knew it was too soon for a miracle to take hold, but that was what made them miracles. Facing Trent, her heart rate sped up just a little as she asked, “Well?”

“Not yet, but he will be,” Trent promised.

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