Page 16 of Reeves

All the parts of this job I hate.

I’d still be the therapist. I just wouldn’t be the one running the business.

Turns out my little clinic is worth something after all.

My eyes linger on that last part. No more late nights reconciling claims after Benjy's asleep. No more anxiety about whether reimbursements will clear before rent is due.

"Strategic partnership," I say aloud, wondering if a partnership is what I need.

I inhale, my fingertips tapping lightly against the desk as the afternoon light filters through the blinds, casting stripes across the proposal on my screen.

I click reply and type quickly before I can reconsider:

"Thank you for your interest. I'm available to discuss this proposal next Tuesday at 3 pm if that works for your team."

Send.

I'm just gathering information, I tell myself. That's all.

But as I close my laptop and prepare for my afternoon session with the Walker twins, the proposal's quiet promise follows me like a persistent whisper.

The waves rollin with hypnotic rhythm as my bare feet sink into wet sand. The late afternoon sun turns the Gulf into a shimmering blanket of gold. Benjy races ahead, his small figure darting toward each new discovery like it's buried treasure.

"Mom! Look at this one!" He holds up a broken conch shell, its jagged edge catching the light. "It's rare. Probably from the deep ocean."

I smile. "Great find, buddy."

My mother walks beside me, her silver bun catching the breeze. The familiar scent of her coconut sunscreen mixes with salt air.

"He's got your curiosity," Mom says.

"And your energy." I laugh, watching as Benjy squats to inspect a piece of seaweed. His concentration is admirable.

The steady pulse of waves against the shore calms my nerves. This beach has always been my reset button. I breathe deeper with each step.

"So I got an interesting email yesterday," I say, keeping my voice casual. "MidSouth Pediatric wants to buy my practice."

Mom slows her pace. "Oh? I didn't know you were thinking of selling."

"Yeah. They've been expanding across the Southeast for the last couple of years."

She studies my face. "What does the buyout actually mean? What would you do if not occupational therapy?"

"It's a standard package. I'd still be a therapist, just working for them instead of myself. They’d acquire the business assets, patient records, equipment."

"Is the salary higher than what you clear after expenses?"

"About fifteen percent more, plus benefits. And a lump sum for the business."

"Is it at-will employment?"

"I assume so. The contract?—"

"Is there a non-compete?"

The breeze lifts strands of hair from my ponytail as her questions sharpen.

"I don't know yet, Mom. I scheduled a meeting to discuss details."