Page 11 of Dr. Alaska
He sure enjoyed using her family’s connections for a foothold. He’d also enjoyed the first several years of her attending physician salary. Holy heck, he had gone through those funds faster than a fresh ten blade on tensioned skin. In the divorce mediation, it was ironic how he insisted on sharing her money but not her medical school loan liabilities or the credit card debt. When faced with a future fifty-fifty split of her incomeandher debt, he’d agreed to call things square with what he’d already spent in lieu of her future earnings and walked away. She had her own income, own debt, and her very own rock-bottom credit rating. He had his Range Rover, a ski boat in its premium slip at exclusive Bald Ridge Marina on Lake Lanier, and their three-thousand-square-foot lake cottage on which they still owed a bushelful—all in his name now, including payments.
She typed back.It’s a three-month locums contract. And it’s five in the morning.
You never needed sleep. I’m up. It’s nine in the morning here.
She sighed. Communication with Mom had little to do with Lee.
Another message.Come back and help at the local practice in Alpharetta. See some patients a few days per week. You’ll have time to join Beau Monde with all my friends.
High on the list of things Lee didn’t wish to do—enjoy monthly tea and tiny cakes during midmorning meetings of well-dressed ladies who voted on which charity their society dues should support, while planning the next fundraising cocktail party at the country club. Nothing wrong with Beau Monde, or any social philanthropy for that matter. But if Lee were back in Georgia, she’d feel more at home seeing patients, not brunching over small talk.
Didn’t matter. Lee had no extra money for society dues or much else, thanks to Preston and his financial vacuum cleaner act. Which was unfortunate, given that she needed to get a few more work outfits and a new pair of shoes after ruining the ones she had worn in the snow yesterday. Wasn’t like she could shop locally for clothes like that. In a few days, the Amazon Prime order would reach this rental house. Lee snuggled deeper into the blankets.
True, she could have fought Preston to get some of her money back, but those funds were long gone, spent on his toys and memberships. Also, Mom hadn’t wanted their divorce to be public, so the less messy the resolution, the better. Mom constantly fretted about what this divorce meant for her affiliation with Beau Monde and for Dad’s political image.
Lordie. What a situation. Which reminded her, by late next week she should get her first locums paycheck deposited in her bank account. Lee needed that small infusion of money flowing into a fresh new account Preston couldn’t access to make a dent in her overdue credit card bill and stay on time with this month’s student loan payment. Yay, only twenty-seven more years to go until her loan was paid off.
Her parents presented as wealthy, but Lee knew the truth. She’d gotten a merit scholarship for college and took out need-based loans to cover all of medical school. However, all their friends seemed to be under the impression that her parents had easily paid out of pocket for her education. Mom always said, “Successful people find a way to appear successful.”
On the outside, the Tipton family sure did look the part.
Mom continued.I can inquire with Dr. Lunsford. They’d hire you in a minute. No one needs to know about that little speed bump in your marriage. You could start fresh by helping Preston’s campaign.
Gritting her teeth, Lee pulled the blanket over her head, fighting to stay warm against the chill. Speed bump, her freezing butt.
Why would I want to go back to him?she replied.He cheated and stole from me. He tried to get me fired on a made-up HIPAA violation. He’s not a good person.
Unlike a certain handsome and earnest EMT who, despite his gaffes, seemed like a genuinely kind guy whose main agenda appeared to involve helping others and making her heart rate speed up. Lee wouldn’t mind spending some time with him in the back of his ambulance.
Sitting in the dark cocoon of blankets, she pictured his hands sweeping over her waist and back as her fingers traced the firm ridges of his chest and shoulders. His mouth would be warm as he nipped at her lips. Mmm. The shiver that skidded down her spine had nothing to do with the air temperature.
Nope. No rebounds. No do-overs. No saving face for her ex. No more trusting her ability to pick someone with honorable motives. Heck, she barely knew Maverick. He was a handsome guy who had been slightly kind to her. She shoved far out of her mind the image of his broad smile that reached to his bright blue eyes.
She reread her last text. Leave it to Lee’s ingrained polite upbringing to describe that narcissistic, money-grabbing, philandering social climber of an ex-husband asnot a good person. It was like saying traffic on I-75 through Atlanta wasa little busy.
Everyone makes mistakes, Mom typed.I’d rather keep your temporary separation private. Your father’s reelection bid and Preston’s career goals mean that we all need to do our part to help.
Heaven forbid Lee tarnished her family’s carefully cultivated image of wealth and success. That image was a façade, anyway. Her parents had inherited their home in Alpharetta from Grandpa Tipton, including all of the furnishings. They pooled the best fixtures in the most public spaces. Rooms with worn rugs or substandard furniture never hosted visitors. Simple as that.
Mom and Dad’s mantra. If you refuse to see a problem, then the problem didn’t exist.
Case in point. Lee’s divorce.
No, the priority was Dad’s aspirations, which meant achievement in local politics and projecting success in every aspect of his and his family’s life. Mom’s persona as a wealthy but charitable and supportive society wife needed to remain untarnished.
Lee sat up in bed. What part offinal divorce decreedid Mom not understand? The only reason last fall’s dissolution of marriage paperwork had sailed through the court was her parents’ connections with a judge who agreed to sign off—quietly—if Dad would consider the judge’s sister’s request for a business license to open a boutique in an area of Alpharetta zoned residential. Lee wiped imaginary grease off her palms, thinking about yet another of Dad’s back-door deals.
I have to go to work, she typed.
It’s five in the morning. You don’t have to leave for work. I haven’t had my breakfast and newspaper yet.
Lee could imagine Mom in her flowy robe, sitting in the sunroom, sipping a fresh-squeezed orange juice, flipping through the lifestyle pages of theAlpharetta-Roswell Herald, andtskingabout the goings-on of the area’s upper crust.
Talk later.Lee would have thrown the cell phone if not for the fact that she was on call starting in three hours, which required a functioning means of communication. The pager was nice, but it helped to have a way to return the page to the hospital.
She flopped back and pretended that the modest but tastefully decorated rental house room was filled with warm filtered sunlight that dappled thick and shiny magnolia leaves. She imagined the pungent white blossoms moving in a warm breeze. If she screwed her eyes shut, she could envision bright red azalea bushes nearby.
Lee’s nose was cold.
