Page 111 of Clara Knows Best

“Says who?”

“New England Journal of Medicine.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about torticollis. I’m talking about love.”

“This is a workplace,” he reminded her somewhat self-righteously.

She pushed away from the door jamb where she’d been leaning. “Send me that article, would you? I want to read about torticollis, too.”

“Sure thing,” he muttered, returning to his contemplation of Clara’s text message.

Almost as though he had willed it, a new message appeared below her last one.

Stand me up. I dare you.

He was tempted to let the woman hunt him down like a dog. But he knew the wiser course would be to have a sociable drink with her and Liesl and Eve. That way he could prove to himself that he was indifferent to her presence and verify that it was mutual, and then it would be a lot easier to focus on other things, like enjoying his oddly quiet new condo.

“Well, your CT scan looks great, Jesse. No indication of swelling or bleeding. Kind of cool to see the new dental implant on there, too. Your orthodontist did a fantastic job.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

“Have you been having any headaches? Nausea?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Well, then it’s my professional opinion that you’re in the clear. Must not have been a bad concussion.”

“Felt pretty bad at the time.”

His doctor laughed. “How’d it happen? You said you fell in a creek? What were you doing, fishing?”

“Fighting over a woman.”

“Sure, we’ll go with that. Well, anything else I should know about? You look thin. How’s the appetite?”

“Good, I’ve just been running.”

“Knees holding up?”

“Yeah, so far.”

“What about mentally? Any depression? Burnout? Anxiety?”

“No,” he said automatically.

“How do you deal with the stress of the job?”

“Weightlifting and meditation,” Jesse said. It was a lie, but it was a lie that he had told for years, and everyone seemed to love it.

“Great,” Harry said, sounding thrilled. “Hey, you want to play tennis this weekend? Bring a date. We’ll play some doubles.”

Clara would be in town. Savagely, he repressed the parallel universe scenario that popped up. “I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

“Oh. Well, I promised the wife I’d play tennis tomorrow. But call me sometime. We can shoot hoops, like the old days.”

“Sure.”

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