Page 61 of Meet Me on Greenwood

I'd made an excuse about being too ill, and that was partly true. I was still recovering from my injuries. I’d fought off my share of kids growing up for looking the way I did juxtaposed having a Black mother, but even I couldn’t fight three at once.

Now, I needed to find a way to reconcile my feelings about Sarah. I’d told myself over and over that what she said wasn't that bad. That she was proud of her heritage and didn't understand the weight of her words. I loved her. Love could get us through anything.

But Gema consumed my mind. From the touch of her hand, to the care she'd shown Paul, and the trick she'd pulled on those men who'd jumped me. She was amazing. I'd told Paul so at my last visit, though he’d been sedated and I wasn't certain how much of what I said reached him.

The doctors said it was the only treatment for bad nerves. I wasn't so sure. I'd spent every spare moment combing through medical texts looking for better answers, but they all said the same thing—confinement and sedation. I kept looking anyway.

A frantic knock sounded at the door.

"I'm busy, Donna."

The door creaked open. "I tried to stop him, but he insisted," Donna pleaded her case as Larry Page pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped past her like she was furniture.

"I don't need an appointment to speak with my son-in-law, do I?" Larry said pleasantly. He turned to Donna with an easy smile, his eyes lingering a little too long. "Could you be a dear and fetch me a cup of coffee? I'm fighting that afternoon drowsiness."

"It is all right," I said, closing my book. I gave Donna a tight smile and she turned to pour the coffee for Larry before closing the door behind her.

Larry was taller than most men, with the authority of someone who had never been told to wait in his life. He wore a tailored suit and Italian cufflinks that caught the light as he took off his jacket and settled into the chair across from me, appraising me over the rim of his coffee cup.

"You look like you've recovered nicely. Influenza, was it?"

"A mild case."

"Is that why you have that black eye? Influenza?"

My smile stayed tight. "A rare symptom, but I’m feeling much better now."

"Well, thank God for that. What would we do if the doctor was sicker than his patients?" He laughed at his own joke.

"Find a better one, I suspect."

He admired the office with the satisfaction of a man who was tallying assets. "This place turned out real nice."

I knew to tread carefully. "I got lucky."

"I imagine so. This is prime real estate, in a nice part of town. How can a young doctor afford something like this? It took me nearly a decade to get the building we are in now."

I shrugged. "I got a really good deal."

Larry set his coffee down. "Hmm. I have to say, Sarah has been missing you like crazy. When can we expect you next?"

"I wouldn’t want to get her sick by coming by too early. I will continue to write to her."

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I think she wants to see you though. Especially after you weren’t there when she won the pageant last week."

"That’s when I began to feel ill," I reminded him.

"Yes." He reached into his jacket and produced a cigar. "Do you mind?"

Yes.

"Not at all. Let me get the window."

He lit the end, took a few slow puffs, then tapped the ash into his coffee cup with the ease of a man who cared little about respecting the spaces of others.

"Black receptionist," he said. It wasn’t a question. "You have an affinity for them, don't you?"

My chest tightened as I sensed where this conversation was going. Damn Jess Reymer.