you the number.”
“Well, I’d hate jumping ahead of the other listeners,” Mom said. “After all, you’re the host of the show. I don’t want anyone to think I’m being pushy or asking for special treatment.”
I laughed. “Are you kidding? Mom, I think I’m entitled to a few perks as a WYME talk show host.”
I wondered whether she realized I’d taken a huge pay cut to move to Florida and work at WYME. Even though it was expensive to live in Manhattan, I’d made a good living from psychology, especially since I specialized in forensic work.
I also had a small “concierge practice” on the side and saw only a dozen or so patients every week. I always thought of them as the “worried well” because they were high-functioning types, mostly high-powered executives and a few show business personalities. They didn’t use their health insurance cards because they didn’t want to leave a paper trail of their sessions with me, and they always paid out of pocket. Some of them even paid me a monthly retainer to make sure that I’d always be available to them.
Being a radio talk show host in a small market has a lot of positive things associated with it, but money isn’t one of them. It’s fun, it’s entertaining, you meet some terrific people, you become an instant celebrity, and you have your own parking spot.
But you don’t get rich. Trust me.
Chapter 6
I bent down to hug Pugsley, who, even thirty minutes after our return, was still circling my ankles, yipping with excitement, delirious with joy at our return. Pugsley is the furry love of my life, a three-year-old rescue dog who understands my most intimate thoughts and feelings. He’s the next best thing to a soul mate and gives me what every woman craves.
Unconditional love and a ton of sloppy kisses.
Pugsley never has a bad day. I feel happier just being around him.
I scooped him up and settled down with him at the kitchen table. The kitchen is a cozy place, with oak floors, exposed beams, and cream walls dotted with abstract canvases ainted by local artists. Lark has an excellent eye for color, and she’s picked them up for a song at neighborhood yard sales.
Pugsley squirmed in my lap, watching Mom at the refrigerator, probably angling for a treat. We try to keep him on what Lark calls a heart-healthy diet, but we allow for the occasional snack. After all, what’s life without a few Liv-a Snaps now and then?
Mom pulled out a plate of blueberry-walnut scones and set it down in front of me while Lark filled the electric tea-kettle. Exotic teas and homemade goodies have become an evening ritual for us, and I’m very fortunate that Lark loves to cook. She’s into organic food and makes everything from scratch, using whole grains, flaxseed, soy powder, and other heart-healthy nutrients that she stashes in glass canisters. If she wasn’t so dedicated to her paralegal studies, I think she would make an excellent personal chef.
“I’m curious about your reaction to the séance, Lark,” Mom said to her. “Did you feel anything special when you were sitting there at the table tonight with Chantel?”
Lark looked pensive for a moment and then ran her hand through her choppy blond hair. Lark has a winsome look about her, and with her delicate bones and slim stature, people often mistake her for a teenager.
“I can’t really say,” she said finally, carefully measuring out some fragrant peach-vanilla tea into the pot. “I felt something , but maybe it was just the power of suggestion. Chantel has a very strong aura around her, you know. She comes across much more forcefully in person than she does on the radio.”
“It was hard for us to tell anything, sitting way back in the audience,” Mom said.
I suddenly remembered the puff of white smoke that danced for a few minutes in the air and then disappeared. I asked Lark about it.
“Yes, I saw it, too,” she said quickly. “It seemed to come out of nowhere.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Well, I’d hate jumping ahead of the other listeners,” Mom said. “After all, you’re the host of the show. I don’t want anyone to think I’m being pushy or asking for special treatment.”
I laughed. “Are you kidding? Mom, I think I’m entitled to a few perks as a WYME talk show host.”
I wondered whether she realized I’d taken a huge pay cut to move to Florida and work at WYME. Even though it was expensive to live in Manhattan, I’d made a good living from psychology, especially since I specialized in forensic work.
I also had a small “concierge practice” on the side and saw only a dozen or so patients every week. I always thought of them as the “worried well” because they were high-functioning types, mostly high-powered executives and a few show business personalities. They didn’t use their health insurance cards because they didn’t want to leave a paper trail of their sessions with me, and they always paid out of pocket. Some of them even paid me a monthly retainer to make sure that I’d always be available to them.
Being a radio talk show host in a small market has a lot of positive things associated with it, but money isn’t one of them. It’s fun, it’s entertaining, you meet some terrific people, you become an instant celebrity, and you have your own parking spot.
But you don’t get rich. Trust me.
Chapter 6
I bent down to hug Pugsley, who, even thirty minutes after our return, was still circling my ankles, yipping with excitement, delirious with joy at our return. Pugsley is the furry love of my life, a three-year-old rescue dog who understands my most intimate thoughts and feelings. He’s the next best thing to a soul mate and gives me what every woman craves.
Unconditional love and a ton of sloppy kisses.
Pugsley never has a bad day. I feel happier just being around him.
I scooped him up and settled down with him at the kitchen table. The kitchen is a cozy place, with oak floors, exposed beams, and cream walls dotted with abstract canvases ainted by local artists. Lark has an excellent eye for color, and she’s picked them up for a song at neighborhood yard sales.
Pugsley squirmed in my lap, watching Mom at the refrigerator, probably angling for a treat. We try to keep him on what Lark calls a heart-healthy diet, but we allow for the occasional snack. After all, what’s life without a few Liv-a Snaps now and then?
Mom pulled out a plate of blueberry-walnut scones and set it down in front of me while Lark filled the electric tea-kettle. Exotic teas and homemade goodies have become an evening ritual for us, and I’m very fortunate that Lark loves to cook. She’s into organic food and makes everything from scratch, using whole grains, flaxseed, soy powder, and other heart-healthy nutrients that she stashes in glass canisters. If she wasn’t so dedicated to her paralegal studies, I think she would make an excellent personal chef.
“I’m curious about your reaction to the séance, Lark,” Mom said to her. “Did you feel anything special when you were sitting there at the table tonight with Chantel?”
Lark looked pensive for a moment and then ran her hand through her choppy blond hair. Lark has a winsome look about her, and with her delicate bones and slim stature, people often mistake her for a teenager.
“I can’t really say,” she said finally, carefully measuring out some fragrant peach-vanilla tea into the pot. “I felt something , but maybe it was just the power of suggestion. Chantel has a very strong aura around her, you know. She comes across much more forcefully in person than she does on the radio.”
“It was hard for us to tell anything, sitting way back in the audience,” Mom said.
I suddenly remembered the puff of white smoke that danced for a few minutes in the air and then disappeared. I asked Lark about it.
“Yes, I saw it, too,” she said quickly. “It seemed to come out of nowhere.” She wrinkled her nose.
Similar Books
