The Scenic Route (16 page)

“I
know this isn't going to be easy for you.”

“Jesus, Len,” Austin said.

“But I don't see any other option.”

“Jesus, Len,” Austin repeated.

“The world is changing, and we have to change with it.”

“You're not changing,” Austin objected. “You're leaving.”

“That's not fair,” Len said. “The deal from square one was that I was going to retire by the time I was sixty. I'm almost sixty-two, and there's no end in sight. No new partner. No one to buy me out. This practice was supposed to be my retirement egg.”

Austin looked in his hands at the literature Len had given him. Optimum Health Inc. There were glossy pictures of smiling patients and empathetic doctors. There were graphs of the “vast network” of devoted medical professionals. It was bullshit. This was a corporation. Plain and simple. Len was talking about selling their practice to a corporation and leaving Austin to be a drone working for faceless bureaucrats who could second-guess his medical decisions and fire him anytime they wanted. This was the antithesis of everything Austin planned for his life.

“Cindy's going to take me for everything she can,” Len said. As if that made the situation better. “But it's worth it. Life is worth it. Being happy is worth it.”

“I'm not happy, Len.”

“You should be. You have a nice home. A nice girlfriend. And the practice isn't going anywhere. It's actually going to be a lot easier for you. Less overhead. Less responsibility.”

“What if I took out a second mortgage on my house?” Austin said. “I could give you more money up front.”

“I said you had a nice house. I didn't say it was worth anything. The housing market is shit in Michigan. The only good part for me is Florida is just as bad. Joanne and I have found a nice place only a few miles from the Bolletierri Tennis Academy.”

“How long has this been going on with you and Joanne?” Austin asked. But what he really wanted to know was had they been having sex in the office.

“She's everything Cindy isn't.”

“Meaning she's younger.”

“Hey, she's not twenty-five.” No, Joanne Friedman was a fortysomething childless divorcée who was their vivacious, gourmet-cooking office manager. Austin wasn't only losing a partner and a practice. He was also losing a great coq au vin.

“Just meet with these people,” Len said. “There's a woman, Hope Cassidy. She's a doctor. I think you'll like her.”

“And if I don't like her?”

“Austin, I'm doing you a favor. Sure, if I wasn't cash starved at the moment, we could hold out for a few more years. But the writing is on the wall.”

Austin wasn't sure about the writing on the wall, but the clock on the wall said he was already twenty minutes behind schedule, and he had a full docket of patients. If any of them were under sixty-five and
on private insurance, he might even make some money for the day's labor. Maybe Len was right. Maybe it was better to just take his paycheck and let someone else worry if the numbers added up. He stuck the brochure in the pocket of his white coat. But he couldn't stop thinking it represented an evil empire and the end of medicine as a noble and humanitarian profession.

“You can't get hung up on doing things the old way,” Len said. “Take it from someone who's been around a little longer than you. The past is always changing.”

“Don't you mean the future?”

“Yeah, that too.”

Naomi was reading an old copy of
People
when Austin came out. She had just picked it up to occupy her mind and to keep her hands from shaking.

It was stupid for her to be sitting there in his waiting room. Crazy-stupid. She didn't know what she was thinking. Other than she wasn't thinking. No, that wasn't true; all she was doing was thinking. She had spent the last four months thinking so much her brain hurt.

When Carlos broke up with her, she had at first been devastated. It was everything her mother had predicted. But worse. Instead of investing six months of her life, she had invested two years. And instead of walking away with her head held high, she had been kicked to the curb. No, not kicked. He was quite the gentleman about it, offering to sleep in the guest bedroom until she figured out what she was doing. He didn't even give her a reason. She said horrible things to him. Things she never thought would come out of her mouth. Things about his European snobbishness. Things about his performance in bed. And she had no idea why. Other than wanting to get a reaction out of him. Wanting some kind of emotional response to show that he cared
about her. But he took it all with a sad expression and never fought back. As if she wasn't even worth the effort.

She had no friends in Madrid. No real friends that weren't also Carlos's friends. They mostly dropped her as quickly as he did, with even less graciousness. She was supposed to be scouting merchandise for Steffi, but she couldn't bear to stay any longer at Carlos's place and couldn't afford to get a place of her own.

She packed up her belongings, deliberating if she should keep the designer clothing and jewelry Carlos had bought her before deciding she had earned them. In the oldest way possible. She even let Carlos buy her one last gift: a Balenciaga suitcase to help get her stuff to New York, where she temporarily moved in with her brother. Actually, her brother and his fiancé, Godwin. Noah joked he had finally found God. The joke got old fast, as far as Naomi was concerned, but Godwin seemed to find it amusing.

It was Godwin who asked Naomi, on her third week in the Chelsea one-bedroom apartment, what her plans were. It had become a little too obvious that she didn't have any. Godwin had asked in a pleasant way. There was something about his very white teeth and British accent that made everything sound pleasant. But Naomi knew a clock was ticking. And not just on her days of free rent. As much as she hated acting like her mother, she caught herself lifting the skin around her cheekbones when she looked in the mirror. She kept reminding herself that thirty-three was young. But there were shadows under her eyes that didn't seem to go away. And a night in heels was followed by a morning with sore feet.

She had no idea where she was going or how she was going to get there. And then it occurred to her that she kind of liked that. For two years she had stayed in one place and had a steady routine, and what did it get her? A nice piece of luggage and an active Facebook account. For two years she knew every morning she'd have breakfast with
Carlos and a late dinner with him after he left the restaurant. She knew they would spend Christmas with his brother in Málaga. And she knew in August they would visit his sister in Barcelona. But she preferred not knowing. That was when she was at her best. It made her more spontaneous. And it made her brave. Brave enough to now be sitting in a suburban waiting room in Farmington Hills, Michigan. Brave enough to look up when Austin entered the room. And brave enough to ignore her beating heart and smile as if there wasn't a more natural place in the world for her to be. She wondered if she would have to tell him why she was there or if he would implicitly know.

And she wondered if he would kiss her again.

At first Austin thought he was seeing things. It had been a stressful day, so it was not ridiculous for him to think his mind was playing tricks.

But he blinked a couple of times, and she was still there. Naomi was sitting in his waiting room under the
Eyes Wide Shut
poster. And smiling as if she had been there all along and he just hadn't noticed her.

He escorted her along the grayish hallway, wishing they had repainted as Len had talked about doing for the last two years, and he followed immediately after her into his office with the old-fashioned eye chart on the wall, closing the door behind them. He didn't know where to let his gaze rest first as he watched her place her black shoulder bag beside her chair and cross her legs, one knee-high black boot over the other below her long gray wool skirt. He sat at his desk, wondering if he should wheel up next to her. But having the desk between them offered him some protection. Like a wooden moat to give him space and time to figure out what he felt about her being there. Shocked. Delighted. Confused. And so many more feelings he couldn't even put labels on.

“I happened to be in the neighborhood,” she said with a small laugh. Her smile still swept all the way up to her eyes, but there were now a few tiny crinkles around them. “I don't know if Stu told you, but I've been working with Steffi.”

Stu barely spoke about Steffi anymore. The divorce had just about destroyed him emotionally—and financially.

“We set up a store on eBay, and I'm scouting a vendor nearby,” she said. “The Franklin Cider Mill. Do you know it?”

“I've gone there since I was a kid,” Austin said. He almost said that he also took his kid there, but he stopped himself. For numerous reasons, not the least of which was that Coal technically wasn't his kid. Not even his step-kid, since there had yet to be a wedding, but there was a picture of him on Austin's desk. “They have great caramel apples.”

“We want to get them to join us,” she said. “We're creating this online international bazaar. The idea is to get specialty products only sold in one place, and make them available everywhere.”

“Doesn't that go against your conviction about the importance of traveling?” Austin asked. He had meant it as a lighthearted question, but Naomi's smile disappeared. He had done it again. Put his foot in his mouth less than two minutes into their conversation.

“I never thought of it that way,” Naomi said, her mood dimming. But then Austin noticed with relief that her face brightened. “I think it actually encourages people to travel and see these places in person,” she said. “And it keeps the places in business, so that when people travel they won't find only Walmart and H&M.”

There it was again. Her passion. Her optimism. He had looked into so many eyes, and no others had the incandescent brightness that hers possessed. And few could claim the color of a sunlit sea beckoning those in need of a warm embrace. “Are you still cooking?” he asked.

“No,” she said, a little wistfully. “Not much. My ambition outpaced my ability.”

“I don't know about that,” Austin said. “I can still taste the chocolate soufflé from Stu and Steffi's wedding.”

“That came out pretty good,” Naomi admitted, seeming to relish the memory. “Maybe I'll make it for you again sometime in the future.”

Was she just saying that or did she mean it? Did she plan to see him in the future? Was she flirting? He desperately wanted to believe she was flirting. But it seemed so unlikely. Then again, her being there in his office was equally unlikely.

“I'm really glad you came by,” he said. Was that really the best he could come up with? He wanted to smack himself. And then he thought of Dallas and wanted to punch himself. Dallas deserved better than him making futile efforts at flirting with a past love. Then it hit him that he had never referred to Naomi in that way. His “love.” He had been in love with her. He had avoided using that word. But there it was. Len was right. The past changes.

“Well, I couldn't come to Michigan without looking you up,” she said. She was just passing through. That's all it was. Like a brief summer squall that comes and goes with little damage, freshening the soil. “No, that's not true,” she said.

“What?” What wasn't true?

“I didn't just look you up.” She wasn't looking at him anymore. She was looking out the window. He wished there was a better view than the generic parking lot. The pine trees were pretty, if plain. The sky was clouding up. There was a storm coming. Seemed to be the day for them.

“I came to Michigan to see you,” she said. Austin wasn't sure he was hearing right. “I came because I never told you how I felt about you. And that was really stupid.” She was tearing up. He handed her a box of Kleenex. “Thank you.”