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“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she continued. “I thought of some things I’d forgotten to mention at lunch so I came back. I was outside your door, heard my name, and did exactly what I shouldn’t have done. Eavesdropped.”
Faith took a deep breath, hating that she hiccupped, hating that when she opened the stall door there was no way could she hide how pitifully she’d been crying. “I’m sorry you had to hear my argument with Vale.”
“Why? You were wonderful.”
Faith blinked, sure she’d misheard. She opened the stall to stare in shock through the tear-induced fog of her glasses at Vale’s cousin. “I was?”
“Absolutely,” Sharon replied. Reaching for a tissue and Faith’s glasses, she took it upon herself to blot away Faith’s tears. “I’ve never heard anyone put Vale in his place that way. Never. Even most of the family are a little scared of him.” Sharon stepped back, surveyed her clean-up job of Faith’s face, and smiled. “You and I are going to be great friends.”
Faith’s head was spinning. “But—”
“No buts.” Sharon opened her purse, dug around until she pulled out a zippered pouch. Removing liquid concealer, she squirted a pearl-size drop on her fingertip. “Look up,” she ordered, dabbing beneath Faith’s eyes, then smoothing out the make-up to her satisfaction. “Any woman who can stand up to my cousin and leave him speechless has my complete admiration.”
The reality of what she’d done sank in. “Oh, God, I just quit my job.”
“But you said you were going to a different clinic,” Sharon pointed out, confusion marring her flawless complexion as she handed Faith a new tube of lipstick. “That’s my favorite color, by the way. I always carry extras, just in case I lose one.”
Vale’s cousin carried extra tubes of the same shade of lipstick? Taking the lipstick, she read the label. Pouty Pink Passion.
“I lied,” she admitted, peeling the plastic seal away and
opening the tube to stare at the color. Not bad.
“Oh,” Sharon said, her mouth forming a perfect circle and creases lining her forehead. “But you’re still a brain doctor, right?”
Smoothing the lipstick onto her lips, rubbing her lips together to smooth out the cream, Faith nodded. “Yes, I’m still a neurologist. Just an unemployed one.”
So why wasn’t she freaking out? Why was she standing next to a bathroom stall, putting on make-up while chatting with Sharon Wakefield Woodard as if they were discussing the weather?
“Great!” Sharon clapped her hands in glee. “You’ll work for yourself, start your own clinic, and be my doctor. Goodness knows, I need my head examined for getting married.”
Faith’s Pouty Passion Pink–covered lower lip dropped open. “I can’t start my own clinic.”
“Why not?” Sharon asked, so matter-of-factly that Faith stopped and asked herself the same question.
Why did she have to work for someone else? Let them decide her fate? Sure, prestige came with working for a clinic of Wakefield and Fishe’s caliber, but prestige could be earned.
Then reality sank in again. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don’t have the money to start a clinic and get it off the ground.”
“Hello…” Sharon rolled her eyes. “Yes, you do. I’m loaded and Vale is always telling me I need to make good investments, to find something to do with my life.” She giggled with excitement. “I could work for you. Be your silent partner, even! This is the perfect solution for us both, Faith.”
Stunned by Sharon’s generosity and by her good humor when they were talking about Faith leaving her cousin’s clinic, she shook her head. “I appreciate your offer, but I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“It wouldn’t be ethical for me to accept money from my former employer’s family.”
“Ethics schmethics. We’re talking about your future here and I’m offering you a way to really get under Vale’s skin. The correct response is, ‘Yes, ma’am, Miss Wakefield.’” Sharon held up her hand. “Don’t even remind me that my legal last name is Woodard, because I want no part of Steve right now.”
Faith stared at the crazy woman standing in the opening of the stall. “I don’t want to get under Vale’s skin.”
“Yes,” Vale’s cousin assured her, looking way too confident for a woman who had yo-yoed during their lunch between bawling her eyes out and professing that she wanted to castrate her soon-to-be ex-husband. “You do. Every woman wants to get under the skin of the man she loves.” She gave a knowing smile. “Why else do you think I’m making Steve pay for his sins?”
Not quite believing her ears, Faith ventured a guess. “To get under Steve’s skin?”
“Darned right.” Sharon put her manicured hand on her hip and straightened her shoulders with determination. “He’ll think twice before he ever cheats again.”
Faith hadn’t believed Vale when he’d commented on his family being crazy, had only believed they were the lovable, generous souls she’d met in Cape May. Now she knew he’d been on to something. Sharon was certifiable. Perhaps she herself was too, because a slow smile spread across her face and her future suddenly didn’t look nearly so bleak.
