Now, as the first tentative patter of rain hit the window, she looked up from her desk, where she’d been making entries in the file open on her laptop. Could she finish up and get out of the office before the rain turned into a downpour? The subway was right at the corner.
Maybe.
Wait.
Bianca groaned.
Only one problem.
She had an appointment. A meeting. And it was two blocks from here, at the Cuppa Joe’s on Madison Avenue.
And—she glanced at her watch. Mannaggia! She was going to be late.
Her fingers flew over the keys.
Patient shows lessening signs of anxiety. Recommend dosage change in meds—see attached note sent to Dr. Carlyle—and a decrease in sessions from two per week to one.
She read what she’d typed, read the note to Dr. Carlyle, the psychiatrist in the practice who would, as a medical doctor, review the request and authorize the prescription, and added a couple of words. Then she hit Save, followed by Close. The screen went blank and she shut her laptop, sat up straight and grimaced as she flexed her shoulders.
“You’re too young for aches and pains.”
Bianca swung towards the door and smiled at East Side Associates’ temporary receptionist, Lacey Hilton. Lacey was a bright MBA student, working as a summer fill-in for the regular receptionist, who was on maternity leave.
“Tell that to my muscles,” Bianca said. “They’re reminding me that I haven’t gone to the gym in a couple of days.”
“Five.”
“Five what?”
“Five days. You didn’t go once this week.”
“That’s it,” Bianca said, laughing. “Keep track and make me feel guilty.”
Lacey grinned. “Hey, Doc, I’m just sayin’…”
“I’m not a ‘doc.’ Not yet.”
“Yeah, but you will be.”
Bianca sighed. “Assuming I ever complete my dissertation.”
“My money’s on you, Doc. Anyway, everybody’s gone and I’m heading home—unless you need me to do something last minute.”
“Thanks. I’m fine. You go ahead. Enjoy the weekend.”
“You too. I hope you have some exciting plans.”
“Very exciting,” Bianca said dryly. “The laundry. A trip to the Union Square Greenmarket. A trip to Whole Foods. Maybe a quick stop at Bloomingdale’s to look for a new towels.”
“No hot date?”
“No,” Bianca said, and she knew she’d said it too quickly because Lacey gave her a funny look. “No,” she said, this time with a smile. “No time for dates, hot or otherwise.”
Lacey nodded. “Dissertation before men,” she said solemnly, clapping her hand to her heart. “I have the same attitude about my thesis.”
“Exactly. Work first. Everything else second.”
“But you’re almost done with the research, right?”