Chapter Ten
O n Tuesday the next week, Lee slid her cafeteria tray down the line as the food service workers chatted and dished up lunch. Today’s special was Dungeness crab and wild mushroom chowder with a piece of fresh sourdough bread. Lee’s mouth watered as she inhaled the fresh aromas and swiped her employee badge at the cash register.
Thank God her meals were covered by the hospital. Lee’s credit card would barely make it to this Friday’s first paycheck. At least her new booties had arrived to replace the ones ruined in the snow. She wiggled her toes. Comfortable.
Pricey, though not as expensive as the Gianni Bini booties. See? Getting an off brand saved money. Not that anyone at the hospital would care if she showed up in tennis shoes and scrubs each day, as long as she took great care of patients.
Lee stood up straighter. It was important to project professionalism, which definitely included her attire. At some point, her salary would catch up with her debt load, and she’d be back on an even financial keel.
Until then, she would stick with free cafeteria food and discount shoes.
The hospital cafeteria had four-person tables in the center of the room as well as a line of smaller tables along one windowed wall, which was where she sat. Pushing up her maroon sweater sleeves, she picked up the spoon. At the first bite of tender crab in creamy broth with a mushroom piece flavored by thyme and shallot, she leaned back and hummed in happiness. Her eyes drifted closed as she chewed. The flavor and textures of the first bite—she’d never had anything quite like this before. The local foods tasted nothing like the down-home Southern food she was accustomed to eating.
A deep chuckle made her open one eye. “Are you open to company, or is this more of a private moment?” Maverick hovered a few feet away, holding a tray full of food. His navy EMS coat highlighted his broad shoulders.
Warmth climbed Lee’s neck. A peek at his mouth sent a flash of memory. Maverick’s arms around her and his lips nipping, tasting, opening her to his kisses. She shifted in the seat.
Then her stomach rumbled, and she caved to a different temptation. “You’re welcome to join me.”
He draped his coat on the chair behind him, sat across from her, and swiped off his beanie, running his hand through his light brown hair.
Lee’s fingers itched to smooth the tousled waves.
Then Maverick picked up a spoon and inhaled, followed by an eye-rolling, blissed-out first bite of the chowder. “Amazing as always. Chef Yuka is a genius.”
“I’ll say.” She took another spoonful then broke off a corner of fresh sourdough, dipping it in the chowder, and chewing in happiness as the tang of the dough mixed with the crab and flavorings.
With a shiver, she peered out the window at the snow swirling over the pine-dotted hills behind the hospital. Today’s weather included cold haze and meager sunshine for a few hours. Chowder was a perfect meal.
After a few minutes of eating in companionable silence, Maverick cleared his throat as his brows drew together.
Uh-oh.
He set down the spoon. “Sorry about bailing on Monday night’s dinner plan. Hilda’s son got sick, so I took her shift.”
Lee could appreciate unpredictable schedules when plans had to change.
Her ex? Not so much. Preston yelled at her if she missed a social function or was late to a business event because of a delivery. In fact, patient care flat-out pissed him off, because it meant during those times, Preston Dupree wasn’t her priority.
He never understood why she couldn’t call in sick when he had a social engagement or if he needed a spouse to join golfing couples, where he spent his time ignoring her as he schmoozed his way up the local government ladder.
How much had he spent on their country club memberships?
More than she had spent on state licensing and professional organization membership.
Criminelly, she hated schmoozing, and she didn’t like to golf, much less do those things together.
Almost as much as she hated—
“Penny for your thoughts?” Maverick’s low voice and brush of his fingers over her wrist pulled her back. “You can verify my shift log if you don’t believe me.”
“What? Monday night? Oh gosh no, I believe you.”
“You sure? For a minute there you looked mad. Dee says that I should start most conversations with an apology, just in case.” His brows drew together. “This may be one of those times. If I said something wrong yet again, my bad.”
Lee stared at the spoon lying next to the half-eaten chowder bowl, her stomach tightening. Quit it . Maverick was not Preston. “I know how coverage changes quickly in a rural area like this. At some point, I’ll be the one changing plans.” Assuming there were future plans. “I was thinking about other things, is all.”
“Like how to disembowel someone but not leave any evidence?”
Hoo boy. “You’re not far off!” Lee said as she relaxed and dug back into her lunch. Delicious.
His jaw dropped. “Wait. What?”
“What?” She chewed and swallowed. “I haven’t disemboweled anyone that you would be aware of.” She tapped her napkin to her mouth and grinned at his brow-furrowed expression. “Wonderful lunch!”
“Uh-huh,” he mumbled with his head tilted to one side. He lifted his glass and gulped some water.
She tapped her index finger on the table. “Hold on. This doesn’t count as credit for dinner, does it?”
With a scrape of metal on crockery, Maverick polished off his meal and patted his firm midsection with a contented growl that she responded to in ways that weren’t appropriate in a hospital cafeteria. “No, this is not dinner date. This is lunch with a fellow hospital employee on chowder day.” He lifted his chin toward his partner, who was chatting with two friends at one of the larger tables. “Louise always knows when it’s chowder day at the Yukon Valley Hospital cafeteria.”
Lee laughed. “Oh, so my pleasant company secondary to your hunger?”
He leaned forward, voice quiet so only Lee could hear. “Chowder hunger versus pleasant company hunger are two very different things. I’m lucky to be enjoying both right now, but I have only satisfied my chowder hunger.” He rested his blunt fingertips on top of hers—the tiniest heated contact—and pinned her with an intense stare. “At some point, I’d like to have seconds of the pleasant company.”
“I—” An involuntary shudder worked its way through her torso.
Maverick’s demeanor crumbled as he flashed a self-deprecating grimace. “You’ll notice my expert use of crab chowder as a flirtation device.” He dropped his forehead against his palm. “I know. Real suave.”
Covering her mouth to contain the laugh erupting, she finally composed herself, but not before other staff glanced her way. She smoothed her sweater hem and murmured, “Ranks right up there with a Code Blue as a prelude to a kiss.”
“Hey, that was happenstance. Also, I like the way you think. We should come up with another emergency.” He nodded with a gleam in his blue eyes that made her toes tingle. “But to fully answer your question, my point is, I’m not trying to get out of dinner. We can shoot for this Thursday? A little after seven at the diner?”
“Works for me.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but a beeping noise stopped him. Pulling out his phone, he lifted his hand in a wave. Louise gave a thumbs-up in response and grabbed her tray, getting up from her table.
“Gotta go, Lee.” Maverick pressed his palm down on the back of her hand where it rested on the table. “See you for dinner in a few days, barring any natural disasters or acts of God.”
*
That Friday, Lee woke up at six a.m. before work and breathlessly logged onto her Georgia bank’s website. She squinted at the screen’s brightness, harsh in the morning darkness. The dinner date with Mav in a few days hadn’t happened due to her schedule. Probably for the best. If they had split the bill, she might have been in trouble.
Shivering, she snagged the light blue throw blanket off of the functional but worn couch in the living room and wrapped it around her flannel-pajama-clad frame as she settled in the chair at the small dinette table. Drumming her fingers on the tabletop, she waited. Speeds might be slow, but thanks to rural broadband, at least she had internet out here.
Come on , she urged the screen.
One of the clinic nurses was having a baby shower next week. When the envelope to add gift money had come across Lee’s desk yesterday, she had wanted to contribute but instead pretended she’d left her wallet at home. Hot shame had churned in her stomach afterward.
She was literally down to her last dollar.
Damn Preston, her life, those lawyers. All of it. She clutched the blanket.
Her credit card payments were due by tomorrow. Even though her student loans were in temporary forbearance, it was important to restart monthly payments ASAP before the accrued interest blew the roof off of the balance.
The bank’s website loaded. She clicked on the link to her account.
Blinked.
Looked again. Her heart pounded as she searched the screen.
There were funds now present, but not as much as she had anticipated. She needed more than that to make a dent in her balances. What happened? Sweat broke out on her upper lip.
She checked once more. The amount deposited was around half of what she had planned for.
Air sawed in and out of her lungs. What?
Switching tabs, she pulled up the locums company employee portal on her computer and double-checked that she had submitted her hours correctly. Yes, she had submitted two weeks’ worth of work. However, she had only gotten paid for one week, because—
Biweekly payments.
Damn. It. To. Hell.
Lee had only been paid for her first week of locums because the second week would get paid in two weeks and—oh, she crammed shaking fingers through her tangled hair.
Her eyes burned. Gut ached.
Nowhere in medical school or residency was she given education about finances, other than an attending physician recommending that the residents get a good financial planner to manage their money. No discussion of how to work through the staggering debt medical students took on. No classes on how to set up a budget on the modest resident salary, especially when one’s spouse wanted to spend money like she was an attending physician already. That was the first step into the hole right there.
A laugh turned into a sob. No planner would take her on as a client now. She had no money! Lee stared blankly at the white walls of the empty kitchen and living room decorated with a few generic neutral prints. No one sat across from her at the bare table. Down the street a truck engine rumbled to life as someone warmed up their vehicle. Off in the distance, she detected the high whine of a snowmobile running at speed. Someone’s early morning commute.
What was she doing with her life? What was she doing here ? It would feel so good to unburden herself and share her shame. She had quite the collection of mistakes. She swallowed. No. The Tiptons never, ever let on about financial struggles. She looked around again at the empty room until her eyes landed on the new leather booties near the front door.
They were super cute, even if they were Bini knockoffs.
Successful people found a way to appear successful.
Thanks, Mom. Super helpful.
This entire situation was not what she had envisioned for her career, working for the highest bidder. Coldest place on Earth, in a neat but modest rental house in a tiny town, alone and buried under mountains of debt, unable to let on that she felt like a fraud because everyone thought if she was a doctor she must be successful.
Not every doctor had an ex-husband who had taken everything.
Not every doctor had gotten buried by credit card debt like she had.
How long would it be before she trusted herself again?
Not even her pride remained, and that stung the most.
Blinking back tears, she sniffled and logged onto the credit card sites.
Two maxed out cards with credit limits set way too high.
She clicked. Two minimum payments made.
Two more weeks until her bank account would contain money again.
Lee tucked her legs up under her, pulled the quilt more tightly around her, and sat alone in the rental, trapped in Yukon Valley.