Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(98)

That left a question as to why she'd returned and then the answer came to me. Instinctively, I realized she wasn't back out of any desire to see me. After all these weeks she probably needed the money to catch up on her bills. Accepting that as the most likely explanation, I opened my top desk drawer and pulled out my checkbook.

"What are you doing?" Linda asked suspiciously.

"What does it look like? I'm writing a check for the remainder of what I owe her." I signed my name with a great deal of flair, ripped off the check and set it on the desk. "I'd appreciate it if you'd see that she gets paid when she's finished the mural."

"Michael!" Linda cried, hands on her hips.

She hardly ever addressed me in that tone, and I automatically glanced up. "What?" I asked. Paying a supplier for services rendered wasn't an unusual request.

"You need to give it to her yourself."

"No can do. I have a busy afternoon."

"No busier than usual."

"Fine, have it your way," I said, unwilling to fight about this. "If you won't give her the check, I'll ask one of the others to do it." I refused to be thwarted. I refused to see Macy. I didn't want to speak to her, either.

"She isn't here because of the mural," Linda told me.

I knew otherwise. Remembering how close Macy lived to the edge financially, I was well aware that six weeks without income must have played havoc with her bank account. That check was the sole reason she'd swallowed her pride and walked in here today. If she expected me to make a scene, then she'd be disappointed. Or relieved. I didn't care which. As far as I was concerned, she was invisible.

Rather than continue the argument, I walked out from behind my desk and found the receptionist. "Would you kindly see that Ms. Roth receives this check before she leaves?"

"Ah...sure." Her eyes connected with someone behind me. Linda, no doubt.

I chose to ignore them both. Without another word, I went back to my office, walking directly past Macy. From her position on the floor, paintbrush in hand, she looked up at me. I felt her gaze as powerfully as a caress. It took a great deal of strength to pretend she meant nothing. Once back in my office I closed the door.

My first appointment of the afternoon was with Ryan Clawson, who had an infected big toe. I cleaned it and wrote out a prescription for antibiotics, then wrapped his foot. Taking my pen I drew smiley faces on his other four toes and made up a story about the "Toed" family to keep the boy entertained. Ryan at six had been frightened and nervous, but he'd held up bravely, even giggling at my nonsense. After giving his mother instructions on how to care for his foot, I helped Ryan down from the exam table.

"Who's the lady outside?" he asked, looking up at me. "Nurse Linda?"

"No, the lady painting the wall."

"That's Macy," I said, trying not to grit my teeth. Was there no escaping her?

"She's nice."

Rather than respond verbally, I managed a smile.

"She said you'd help my foot feel better. She said I should be brave and I was, wasn't I?"

"Yes, you were." I was sure this was Macy's way of sending me a message. Well, she could send all the cryptic messages she wanted, but I wasn't responding. I had nothing to say.

"Can I tell her how brave I was?"

"By all means." I held open the door for Ryan and his mother. Without glancing in Macy's direction, I went to the next room, where I was to examine a suspected case of poison ivy.

By the time I'd finished my afternoon appointments, Macy had completed the painting and disappeared, which was exactly what I'd expected. I'd certainly called that one. She'd taken the money and run. No surprise there.

Rather than risk an unintentional meeting, I returned to my office and shut the door once again. It was after five and I was looking over lab results when I heard someone knocking. Assuming it was Linda, I called out, "Come in."

The door opened and Macy stepped inside.

So she hadn't hightailed it out of the office, after all. Leaning back in my chair I feigned irritation. "Yes?" I said shortly. I wanted it known that I wasn't pleased to see her.

She stepped forward and set the check on my desk. "You don't owe me anything."

I wasn't going to be drawn into an argument, and yet I felt obliged to pay her. Picking up the check, I handed it back. "Did I not agree to pay you seven hundred dollars for the mural?"

"You did."

"Then what's the problem?" I wanted her out of my office as quickly as possible. I continued to hold out the check, which she ignored.

"I didn't finish the mural in a timely manner."

"But you did finish it."

"Besides, you made a house call to see Harvey, remember?"

"It wasn't a house call," I insisted. The last thing I needed was my insurance company getting wind of the fact that I'd broken a cardinal rule. My malpractice premiums were already more than my college loan payments had been. I didn't need a rate hike because Macy couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"You held up your end of the bargain. I'm doing the same."

I gestured toward her dismissively, the check still in my hand. "It was nothing. Take this and cash it in good conscience."