“He wasn’t,” I countered firmly. “He’s a very conservative person. He teaches at the Adams School for Girls.”
“I know some teachers who aren’t so conservative,” the older patrolman said.
Tom laughed. “He’s referring to his brother-in-law.”
“Among others.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” Tom asked me.
“Hardly. I’ve been here only two days.”
“Two days! And you’re in an accident already? That’s bad luck,” the older patrolman said. “But you look fine.”
“She looks more than fine,” Tom said. He smiled at me again.
Twenty minutes later, I found myself sitting in the ER waiting room. I had given my personal information to the receptionist, who didn’t look all that surprised to learn that I had no health insurance.
“Everyone your age thinks he or she doesn’t need it, and then you’re here in the ER suddenly, and everyone else has to pay for it.”
“I can pay for it myself,” I told her. “I don’t even need to be here. I’m
fine. The policemen insisted.”
She shrugged. “Take a seat,” she said.
When another quarter of an hour had passed, I debated gathering my bags and calling for a taxi, but before I could, a nurse came heading my way. She was smiling so brightly that for a moment, I thought she had mistaken me for someone else, someone she knew. I thought she was very pretty, with a bob-inspired, one-length cut to her light brown hair. It had an off-center parting and razor-softened ends. When she drew closer, I recognized those blue eyes. This was Ken Dolan’s daughter. She was about five feet eight, with a buxom but trim figure. Now that I studied her a little more, I realized that she had Liam’s smile.
“As soon as I saw your name, I thought, That’s my father’s new secretary. Am I right?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you okay? What happened?” she asked, and quickly sat beside me. “Oh, I’m Julia Dolan,” she added.
I summed up the accident for her.
“And he was nowhere around afterward? Freaky,” she said. She looked around. “C’mon with me,” she said. “I’ll help you with those,” she added, reaching for a few of my bags.
She led me to an examination room and looked me over closely before taking my blood pressure.
“Any pains, aches?”
“No, nothing.”
“You don’t even look a little shaken up, and there’s not a mark on your face.”
“It all happened too fast. I was lucky I was leaning back.”
“Yes, lucky. Dr. Knotts is on duty, but he’s a bit overwhelmed. It’s his third week here. I don’t think he’ll get to you for at least an hour, if not longer. There are four ahead of you.”
“How’s Mr. Lamb doing?”
“They took him to X-ray. He’s quite banged up. That airbag hit him like a pie in the face. He’ll be here for a good few hours, if not more, even though he’s a priority,” she added in a little over a whisper.
“I’m fine. I really don’t have to stay. The police insisted on bringing me here, otherwise I would have just continued on to the Winston House. The younger officer was quite concerned. His name was Tom.”
“Tom Westly,” she said, nodding. “I’m sure he was quite concerned. I’m half surprised he didn’t try to stay and hold your hand.” She laughed.
“He was a bit of a flirt,” I said.