taking the over-the-counter anti-inflammatories, but don’t forget to use ice, too. If in a couple of weeks you’re not making any progress, we could try a wrist extensor, or after a month or so give you an injection, but let’s start with this.”
“Will do, Doc.” The silver-templed man hopped off the exam table. “Still feels strange to call little Danny Delaney ‘Doc.’” He winked a blue eye and shook Daniel’s hand, then winced from the tendonitis pain. “Thanks for being here. Otherwise I’d have had to drive forty miles for help.”
“Glad to be here, John. We’ll get this worked out even if I have to bring you in for some low level laser therapy.”
He escorted the patient to the hallway and, after watching him exit to the reception area, pivoted toward his small corner office to push through more paperwork before his next appointment in—he glanced at his watch—ten minutes.
“Daniel?” Keela popped out of the therapy room.
He glanced up, momentarily content being the guy in charge.
She approached, looking far better in their khaki cargo pants and white polo shirt uniform than he did. “You’ve written ten repetitions ten times a day for this.” She pointed to the exercise regimen he’d created especially for the patient. “Sure you didn’t mean three times a day?”
Were the unwanted thoughts from when he woke up this morning, about Kathryn and everything they’d lost, going to set the tone for yet another day? He gave his screwup face and, without saying a word, took the paper and made the correction, which got another one of those beyond-pleasant grins from his PT assistant. Yup, he noticed. Again.
Keela O’Mara cracked a smile at her boss’s silly face. He’d crossed his forest-green eyes and tipped his oblong chin, just like her four-year-old daughter sometimes did when she colored outside the lines. Sure, he was often gruff, but she didn’t take it personally. On the contrary, she trusted him for it, knowing what she saw was what she’d get. The guy was honest with his reactions, and she could deal with that. There was no question this clinic meant everything to him.
She liked working for Daniel Delaney and had hit the jackpot when she’d landed this job right out of Central Coast City College. Many of her classmates were still scrambling for work nearly four months later. Being back in Sandpiper Beach was a blessing after struggling for the last year and a half since the divorce from Ron.
Six years ago she’d started an online friendship with a guy in California. Living in Ennis, County Clare, Ireland, she’d thought the whole thing rather daring, yet safe. He liked her being from Ireland, and after six months she’d agreed to meet him for coffee on his layover at Shannon Airport.
His big brown eyes and warm, wide smile won her over immediately, then he proved to be the perfect gentleman. She’d known her share of smooth talkers, but this guy was polite and polished, and she wanted to know him better. When she’d wished out loud that she could show him around Ennis, he’d magically arranged to cut his vacation in Europe short by a few days to see her again. Her parents even liked him!
One thing led to another and he’d offered to fly her to California for a visit. Her parents cautioned her, so she’d made a firm request: I can’t stay with you, Ron. But he’d already booked her a room in a small hotel by the beach, The Drumcliffe—the people who owned and operated it were Irish Americans, he’d said, to make her feel at home—then he’d proved to be the perfect gentleman the whole visit. That was when she fell in love.
She’d been working as a massage therapist at a day spa in Ennis, getting by on her tips, but not earning enough to move away from home, let alone plan another trip to California. Two months later, she’d discovered she’d fallen pregnant. And though eventually Ron had asked her to marry him, he never seemed quite the same sweet-talking guy again.
* * *
Ten after four on Wednesday afternoon, Keela came strolling out of the therapy room. As she and her patient emerged from the hallway, Daniel was at the copier, collating packets for the athletic department staff at Central Coast City College—otherwise known as the 4Cs—for the upcoming presentation he had planned for tomorrow morning. Keela accompanied Mrs. Joan Haverhill, a long-term client at the Delaney Physical Medicine Clinic. That was, if you counted “long-term” as the one year since he’d opened his business.
“With your joints being fine, and considering normal wear and tear...” Keela said to the patient while nodding to acknowledge Daniel.
“Go ahead, say it—for a woman my age,” the tall, yet hunch-shouldered, gray-haired woman complained. “It’s all I ever hear when I go to the doctor these days. For your age.” She made sure Daniel heard her, too.
A lyrical laugh eased out of Keela’s mouth, and it never failed to grab his attention. She might as well be singing.
“I’d never say that, Mrs. Haverhill. You’re in great shape—”
The sixtyish lady tossed Daniel a deadpan look that seemed to say, Do you believe the crock she’s feeding me? More, please.
He smiled and added a benevolent nod.
“For your age,” Joan repeated, first pasting her gaze on him, then slowly looking back to Keela. “Kind of like the old joke about fortune cookies.”
Keela gave a blank stare. Joan glanced toward Daniel again. “Dr. Delaney, you’ve got to take your employees for Chinese food once in a while.”
The woman turned her attention back to Keela. “Here’s the old trick—all you have to do is add ‘in bed’ to whatever the fortune says.” Keela canted her head, considering Joan’s suggestion. “Um, let me think... For example, ‘Do not mistake temptation for opportunity,’ then you add ‘in bed.’ Get it? It always works, just add ‘in bed.’”
For her effort, Joan received another uncertain stare. “Didn’t you ever do that, Dr. Delaney?”
He pressed his lips together and slowly shook his head. “Can’t say I ever have.”
Resigned, she shrugged. “Maybe that was only my generation. Anyway, that’s the way it seems these days. Every doctor report I get either begins or ends with the phrase for your a—”
“In bed?” Keela teased.
Mrs. Haverhill gave an uncharacteristic chuckle. And that was another thing he liked about his employee. She was quick-witted.
“In that case, I want you to do these four exercises I’ve just shown you, three times a day...” Keela gestured for Joan to finish the sentence.
“...in bed.” The lady winked at Daniel.
“Yes. Well, on a bed, actually. Or better yet, on this mat.” Keela breezed to the cubicles that lined the hallway, which thankfully weren’t depleted like the supply shelves, and grabbed a bright pink yoga mat.
Having clearly won over the usually reticent client with the parting gift—another touch Daniel was proud to offer his patients but was worried he’d have to give up if business didn’t pick up soon—Keela received a smile from Mrs. Haverhill, who took the mat and headed for the door to the waiting room. “Thank you.”
“Have a great week!”
“In bed or for a woman my age?” Joan
