sight, and Janice seemed to gain height and poise.
“Barb, hi,” Hunsacker greeted her. “You’re looking great. What did you do to your hair?”
Barb’s hand lifted instinctively as she gave him the nasty eye. “You’re looking pretty good yourself,” she purred.
He was already reaching out to bridge the gap between himself and the two women. Casey forgot the food on her lap. Barb she could understand simpering. Barb hadn’t gained the nickname the Barracuda because she liked salt water. Janice, on the other hand, still had some explaining to do. Janice was just too damn intelligent to fall for this stuff.
“Congratulations,” Barb was still purring. “I hear they’ve decided to add four new delivery rooms upstairs because of you.”
Hunsacker flashed that self-effacing grin of his, the perfect reaction for flattery and Oscar acceptances, and Casey saw the bones actually soften in Barb’s knees. “Don’t kid yourself,” he demurred, stroking her arm as if it were the nose of a horse. “They were going to do that anyway. But I do like the new wallpaper a lot better.”
“Anything’s better than that early, institutional they had before,” she agreed, doing her best to fill his entire field of vision. “Besides, you don’t catch rich flies with bargain honey. Make ’em think they’re delivering in Bloomingdales.”
“Triage to the front desk. Triage to the front desk.”
Barb immediately puckered up. “Damn. Don’t go,” she warned Hunsacker and whirled for the door to answer her page.
Hunsacker intercepted Janice before she got a chance to sit. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, his voice rippling with concern.
Janice ducked her head a little, gave off an ineffective little wave. “Oh, I’m fine,” she said with the carefully flat tone of somebody protecting a hurt very close to the core, like holding an arm close to broken ribs.
Hunsacker made contact. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Thanks.”
Caught by the revelation in their scant words, Casey remembered the promise she’d made to herself. She never had asked Janice what had been wrong. And, somehow, Hunsacker had.
She felt ashamed. She and Janice weren’t especially close, but she should have talked to her before the resident gigolo did, should have followed up on a fragment of conversation that suddenly made unhappy sense.
She shouldn’t feel resentful that he might have helped Janice when she hadn’t. But she did.
Hunsacker and Janice still stood. “I was worried about you,” he admitted in that same soft voice, his head bowed a little to her, his eyes on hers. Casey couldn’t see his expression, couldn’t tell if it still betrayed that troubling flatness. She wanted to think that Janice would have seen if it had. But Janice was still protecting herself too carefully to be perceptive.
Janice laid her hand on Hunsacker’s other arm and smiled for him. “I appreciate that, Dale. You were a big help.”
“Dr. Hunsacker, outside call. Dr. Hunsacker.”
“Jan?” Casey said once Hunsacker had swung from the room.
Bent over the refrigerator, Janice turned to answer. “Yeah, Casey.”
Casey wasn’t sure exactly how to begin. “What do you think of Hunsacker?”
Surprised, Janice straightened a little. “He’s nice. At least he has been to me.”
Casey wished for subtlety. Normally, Janice would have been the first one to see through Hunsacker. “He’s been helping you out with something?”
Janice turned back to the refrigerator, preventing Casey from seeing her expression. “He listened. He really seems to understand…”
“Are you and Aaron having problems?”
Rather than answer right away, Janice continued her perusal of the refrigerator’s contents. Considering that it consisted of various half-empty bottles of condiments and a couple cans of soda, it shouldn’t have needed that much concentration.
Janice took a good three or four minutes to straighten and close the
“Barb, hi,” Hunsacker greeted her. “You’re looking great. What did you do to your hair?”
Barb’s hand lifted instinctively as she gave him the nasty eye. “You’re looking pretty good yourself,” she purred.
He was already reaching out to bridge the gap between himself and the two women. Casey forgot the food on her lap. Barb she could understand simpering. Barb hadn’t gained the nickname the Barracuda because she liked salt water. Janice, on the other hand, still had some explaining to do. Janice was just too damn intelligent to fall for this stuff.
“Congratulations,” Barb was still purring. “I hear they’ve decided to add four new delivery rooms upstairs because of you.”
Hunsacker flashed that self-effacing grin of his, the perfect reaction for flattery and Oscar acceptances, and Casey saw the bones actually soften in Barb’s knees. “Don’t kid yourself,” he demurred, stroking her arm as if it were the nose of a horse. “They were going to do that anyway. But I do like the new wallpaper a lot better.”
“Anything’s better than that early, institutional they had before,” she agreed, doing her best to fill his entire field of vision. “Besides, you don’t catch rich flies with bargain honey. Make ’em think they’re delivering in Bloomingdales.”
“Triage to the front desk. Triage to the front desk.”
Barb immediately puckered up. “Damn. Don’t go,” she warned Hunsacker and whirled for the door to answer her page.
Hunsacker intercepted Janice before she got a chance to sit. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, his voice rippling with concern.
Janice ducked her head a little, gave off an ineffective little wave. “Oh, I’m fine,” she said with the carefully flat tone of somebody protecting a hurt very close to the core, like holding an arm close to broken ribs.
Hunsacker made contact. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Thanks.”
Caught by the revelation in their scant words, Casey remembered the promise she’d made to herself. She never had asked Janice what had been wrong. And, somehow, Hunsacker had.
She felt ashamed. She and Janice weren’t especially close, but she should have talked to her before the resident gigolo did, should have followed up on a fragment of conversation that suddenly made unhappy sense.
She shouldn’t feel resentful that he might have helped Janice when she hadn’t. But she did.
Hunsacker and Janice still stood. “I was worried about you,” he admitted in that same soft voice, his head bowed a little to her, his eyes on hers. Casey couldn’t see his expression, couldn’t tell if it still betrayed that troubling flatness. She wanted to think that Janice would have seen if it had. But Janice was still protecting herself too carefully to be perceptive.
Janice laid her hand on Hunsacker’s other arm and smiled for him. “I appreciate that, Dale. You were a big help.”
“Dr. Hunsacker, outside call. Dr. Hunsacker.”
“Jan?” Casey said once Hunsacker had swung from the room.
Bent over the refrigerator, Janice turned to answer. “Yeah, Casey.”
Casey wasn’t sure exactly how to begin. “What do you think of Hunsacker?”
Surprised, Janice straightened a little. “He’s nice. At least he has been to me.”
Casey wished for subtlety. Normally, Janice would have been the first one to see through Hunsacker. “He’s been helping you out with something?”
Janice turned back to the refrigerator, preventing Casey from seeing her expression. “He listened. He really seems to understand…”
“Are you and Aaron having problems?”
Rather than answer right away, Janice continued her perusal of the refrigerator’s contents. Considering that it consisted of various half-empty bottles of condiments and a couple cans of soda, it shouldn’t have needed that much concentration.
Janice took a good three or four minutes to straighten and close the
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