Then Megan bursts out of the break room, waving a stack of papers like they’re on fire.
“Holley,” she hisses, “you will never believe this.”
I pull my coat off slowly. “What, did Dr. Kline finally blow up the suction pump?”
“No.” She thrusts the papers into my hands. “Dr. Kline has a tax lien.”
I blink. “A… tax what?”
“Debt,” she says dramatically. “A big one. A bad one. The IRS sent a notice and everything.”
I stare at the letterhead, processing. “Wait, is that why the lights are off?”
Maria nods vigorously. “They froze the practice accounts. We can’t run patients. We can’t take payments. We can’t bill insurance. We can’t do anything.”
My stomach sinks.
“So we’re closed?”
“Temporarily,” she says, though it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “Dr. Kline is begging his accountant to fix it. Could be a day, could be a week. But we’re definitely not working today.”
Perfect.
Just what I needed.
* * *
A forced break I didn’t ask for, paired with the creeping feeling that I can’t shake someone tailing me. How will I afford this unpaid day off?
I rub my forehead. “Okay. Well, let me know if you hear anything.”
“Oh trust me,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I will scream the second this nightmare ends.”
I leave the office in a daze. My car feels like an ice box when I climb in. I sit there for a long moment, staring at nothing, letting the weight of everything settle.
No work. Uncertainty. A strange feeling that something is off.
And Tony’s text from last night sitting like a warm coal in my chest.
Before I can overthink it, I type:
Holley:
You will not believe this day.
He responds almost immediately.
Tony:
Try me.
So I do.
I tell him everything.
The lien.
The office shutdown.
