MAGIC HOUR,
read on
Look for it in bookstores everywhere
Published by Ballantine Books
JULIA STOOD in front of the full length mirror in her bed room, studying herself with a critical eye. She wore a charcoal gray pantsuit and a pale pink silk blouse. Her blonde hair was coiled back in a French twist—the way she always wore it when she saw patients. Not that she had a lot of patients left. The tragedy in Silverwood had cost her at least seventy percent of them. Thankfully there had been those who still trusted her, and she would never let them down.
She grabbed her briefcase and went down to her garage, where her steel blue Toyota Prius Hybrid waited. The garage door opened, revealing the empty street outside.
On this warm, brown October morning, there were no reporters out there waiting for her, clustered together and yet apart, smoking cigarettes and talking.
Of course not.
She was no long
er part of the story.
She was thankful for that. Even the crowded traffic on the Pacific Coast Highway couldn’t dim her enthusiasm. Finally, after a year of nightmares, she was headed down the road to her real life. It took her more than an hour to reach the small, beautiful Beverly Hills office building that she’d leased for more than seven years.
She parked in her spot and went inside, closing the door quietly behind her. On the second floor, she paused outside her office, looking at the sterling silver plaque on the door.
DR. JULIA CATES.
She pressed the intercom button.
“Dr. Cates’s office,” came the scratchy voiced reply through the speaker. “May I help you?”
“Hey, Gwen, it’s me.”
“Oh!”
There was a buzzing sound, then the door unlocked with a click.
Julia took a deep breath and opened the door. The office smelled of the fresh flowers that were delivered every Monday morning. Though there were fewer patients now, she’d never cut back on the flower order. It would have been a sign of defeat.
“Hello, doctor,” said Gwen Connelly, her receptionist. “Congratulations on yesterday.”
“Thanks.” Julia smiled. “Is Melissa here yet?”
“You have no appointments this week,” Gwen said gently. The compassion in her brown eyes was unnerving. “They all cancelled.”
“All of them? Even Marcus?”
“Did you see the L.A. Times today?”
“No. Why?”
Gwen pulled a newspaper out of the trash can and dropped it on the desk. The headline was DEAD WRONG. Beneath it was a photograph of Julia. “The Zunigas gave an interview after the hearing. They blamed you for all of it.”
Julia reached out for the wall to steady herself.
“I’m sure they’re just trying to get out from under the lawsuit. They said … you should have committed their daughter.”
“Oh.” The word slipped out on a breath.
Gwen stood up and came around the desk. She was a small, compact woman who had run this office as she’d run her home, with discipline and care. Moving forward, she opened her arms. “You helped a lot of people. No one can take that from you.”