Chapter 27
Next morning, I was adding detergent to a load of laundry when I received a call from Slivovitz. He said all was well in the office and assured me his foot-side manner had improved while I was out. In fact, he was now so warm and fuzzy that my eldest patient, who traveled to my office in a van from Younger than Springtime Assisted Living, had squeezed his cheeks.
I enjoyed chatting, and it caused me to pine for my office, but hopefully Lisa would return, and I’d be back in a few days. I wondered what I’d do if I didn’t work. Besides socializing, reading, and running, I didn’t have a hobby. I did collect shoes—part of being obsessed with feet. My collection went back to the 1850s. I had advised Jake to pivot, but what would I pivot to if I sold my practice? Was I too young to pivot—or too old? Unlike Jake, I was fortunate to have a choice in the matter.
Another call came through. I said goodbye to Slivovitz, hit accept.
It was Annie. Her voice sounded weird. She tripped over her words.
“Please, Annie, say that again.”
“I’m on my way to Mac’s school. The nurse called. Mac fell on the playground.”
“Oh, no, no. Is she all right?”
“Don’t know. The school called me because they couldn’t reach Lisa. I’m on my way.”
I snapped up my car keys, raced out of the house—forgetting my cell phone and that I was in slippers and a robe. As I started the car, I considered going back inside to change but refused to waste a second. I was speeding until I zigged right instead of left, heading the wrong way at a fork in the road. I didn’t recognize where I was. I gave the GPS the name of the school. No response. I tried again. Nothing. I stopped on the side of the road, collecting myself. Chances were, the GPS wasn’t responding because I was in a rural area with lousy reception. I drove straight until the GPS clicked in. As I entered civilization, a corner with a gas station, the Brit who spoke like she ran an elite boarding school said, “Turn right in one hundred yards.”
As I pulled into the first spot I saw, branches swayed in a light wind, leaves fluttered in front of me. The redbrick school stood rock solid. Things seemed far too calm. Get a hold of yourself, Jodi. Callie’s in the nurse’s office; this isn’t a crime scene. Was I expecting police cars, fire trucks, a bomb squad? Never react when you can overreact.
At the school, I pressed a security button on an intercom, spoke, and was admitted. I caught sight of a sign, an arrow, leading to the front office. I rushed through the door to the counter. I waited a minute or two—but it felt like an eternity.
A young woman with orange hair introduced herself. “I’m Jan Crossen. Can I help you?”
“Yes, yes,” I said. “I’m Callie’s grandmother.”
She stared at me, confused. “Her grandmother is already here.”
I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned, and there stood Di, in business clothes.
Moments later, Jan greeted Annie as though she were a long-lost relative. Obviously, they were chummy. “Okay, Annie, you’re the one I know. You see Macallan first. Yoga tomorrow?”
Annie was first. What was I—chopped liver? I told myself to keep quiet. It didn’t matter who went first.
Annie shook her head. “Thanks, but I’d prefer if we could visit Callie as a threesome, together.”
“Fine,” Jan said. “I hope you fit in the room.”
The school infirmary was a claustrophobic beige box with a desk, a scale, and posters featuring diverse children holding their stuffed animals. The nurse, a middle-aged woman with curly hair, sat at her mini desk. We squeezed into the space.
“We’re Callie’s grandmas,” I offered.
“Is she okay?” Annie asked.
“She’s fine. She tripped in the playground on her shoelaces, lacerations on her knee and palms, cleaned and bandaged. I suggest Tylenol when you get home.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Callie was shoeless in her denim jumper on a narrow cot with a navy wool blanket and white sheets, her head on a pillow.
“Grandma Jo,” she said in a whisper. “Grannie Annie. Di. This is like The Wizard of Oz . You’re all here.”
“Here to rescue you,” I said.
“I fell. My shoes were untied, and I tripped.”
“I guess you need Velcro sneakers,” I said.
“Nobody wears Velcro ...” Callie’s concern about who wore what reassured me she was fine. “Grannie Annie, tell Grandma Jo no one wears Velcro.”
“Come on. I’ll help you up,” Di said.
“I knew you would all come,” she said.
Her confidence sat like a crown on our heads. Two days before, we would have raced one another to the school. In the office, Annie would’ve cashed in on being best yoga buddies with the woman at the counter. I would’ve butted in, played the doctor card, said I had to go in first because I was a physician. Di? She would’ve sold an expensive house over the phone while waiting for the nurse to bring Callie to her. This was better. Better for Callie.
“I’m lucky. My friend Kate doesn’t have a grandma or a grandpa.”
“You tell Kate she can borrow me at any time,” Annie said.
I grabbed Callie’s knapsack. I took her hand. I wished I could hold on to it forever. My emotional pull to her was overwhelming. I fought back a tear.
Once outside the school, we stood for a moment under the sheltering overhang. The kindergarteners were filing onto the school bus. Teachers were waving goodbye.
“Who wants to take Callie home?” I said in the spirit of cooperation.
“Home?” Di said. “Are you serious? We’re going straight from here to see the pediatrician.”
She took her phone, her sustenance, out of her blazer pocket.
“Is that necessary?” I asked. “The nurse said she was fine.”
“Did you see that nurse?”
“Yes,” I said. “She seemed alert.”
“You want back history? Because I have back history.”
Annie smoothed Callie’s hair and began braiding. “You’ll never get an appointment for today.”
Di ignored both of us, plugged in a number, clicked onto speaker. “Is the doctor in?” she asked, without introducing herself.
“Yes, but he’s with a patient. Who’s calling?”
Di didn’t answer the question. “My granddaughter is injured. I’m coming over now.”
“I’m sorry. The doctor is done for the day.”
Di was not swayed. “I thought you said he was with a patient.”
“I suggest the emergency room.”
“I don’t do emergency rooms.”
The assistant sounded irritated. “Who is this?”
“It’s Diandra Summer Lake,” Di said in a tone that indicated that the assistant should have known.
“The real estate agent?”
“Yes. Tell the doctor he’s about to receive an astonishing bid for his home. I’m en route to discuss it. No time to waste. I understand the bidder, a high roller from Lexington, is interested as well in another place, an equivalent property owned by one of his neighbors.”
“His house isn’t for sale,” the assistant said, point blank.
“That’s why it’s important I see him now.”
Was Di short for Diabolical?
A smirk arose on Di’s perfect face as though she had outsmarted Albert Einstein on the theory of relativity.
To distract Callie, I told her she was brave and when we got home, she could select any book she wanted online, and I would get it for her. Annie finished the braid. Di was on hold.
At last, the medical assistant came back on the line. “The doctor said he’ll wait for you. And bring your granddaughter. He wants to see her.”
Maybe everyone should have three grandmas?