like this. Logically, she knew that the departed couldn’t intervene on the behalf of the people they had left behind.
She was letting her loss get to her.
And yet...
And yet here was a penny, right in her path. And now right in the middle of her hand.
Was it an omen, a sign from her mother that this—and everything else—was going to work out well for her?
She really wanted to believe that.
Kayley caught her lower lip between her teeth and looked at the penny again.
“Nothing wrong in thinking of it as a good-luck piece, right?” she murmured under her breath, tucking the coin into her purse.
Lots of people believed in luck. They had lucky socks they wore whenever they played ball, lucky rabbits’ feet tucked away somewhere on their bodies when they took tests.
They believed that luck—and objects representing that luck—simply tipped the scales in their favor.
Nothing wrong with that, Kayley told herself again.
Thinking of the penny in her purse, she squared her shoulders and walked up to the entrance of the medical building.
The electronic doors pulled apart, allowing her to walk in. The entrance, she realized, opened automatically to accommodate people who might have trouble pulling open a heavy door because of conditions that brought them to an orthopedic surgeon in the first place.
Once inside the building, Kayley moved aside, away from the electronic door sensors. She needed to gather herself together in order to focus. She was good at what she did, very good, but she knew that she could still wind up tripping herself up.
You want me to get this job, don’t you, Mom? You brought Aunt Maizie back into my life because you knew I was going to need her to get through this. And then, because you were always worried about me, you had her call me about this job opening.
Suddenly wanting to take another look at the penny, Kayley opened her purse and gazed down at it.
You’re still looking out for me, aren’t you? Kayley silently asked, although, in her heart, she knew the answer to that.
The elevator was just right of the entrance. The elevator doors opened as she walked up to them.
Another good omen? she wondered, trying to convince herself that she was a shoo-in for the job.
The elevator car was empty.
The nerves that usually began to act up each time she had to take on something new—a job interview, an admission exam, anything out of the ordinary—seemed oddly dormant this time.
Kayley smiled to herself. She had a feeling—irrational though it might be—that she wasn’t going to be facing this interview by herself. Even so, she did experience a fleeting sensation of butterflies—large ones—preparing to take flight. And quickly.
“It’s going to be all right,” she promised herself in a low whisper since no one else was in the elevator with her. “Nothing to be afraid of. You’re going to be fine. The job’s yours.”
Just as the doors were about to close again, a tall athletic-looking man with wayward dark blond hair put his hand in.
The doors still closed, then immediately sprang open again, receding back to their corners and allowing him to walk in.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” he asked, looking straight at her, his head slightly cocked as if he couldn’t decide if he’d overheard something he shouldn’t have.
“Not a word,” Kayley answered brightly.
It was a lie, but she wasn’t about to admit to a perfect stranger—and he really was perfect—that she was giving herself a pep talk. It would have made him think that he was sharing the elevator with a mildly deranged woman.
That was how rumors got started, she thought, smiling at the man.
He didn’t return the smile.
The Orthopedic Surgeons Medical Building was a square white building that had only two floors. The bottom floor housed an outpatient operating facility as well as an area where MRIs and other diagnostic scans were taken. The front of the second floor was a communal reception area where patients could sign in and then wait to be taken through the double doors to the myriad of rooms that honeycombed the rear of the floor. That was where a variety of orthopedic doctors, each with his or her own specialty, would see them.
When the elevator doors opened on the second floor, the solemn-looking man riding up with her put his hand out again, this time to assure that the car’s doors would remain open. Then he stared at her, waiting.
“Oh.” Kayley had been lost in thought, but now she came alive, realizing that the strikingly handsome man was holding the doors open for her. “Thank you,” she told him quickly, hurrying out of the elevator.
“Don’t mention it,” the man murmured in a deep voice that seemed to surround her even though there was all this wide-open space around her.
As she tried to orient herself, the first thing Kayley saw was a long dark teak reception desk. There were currently three women seated there, each incredibly perky looking and each busily engaged, typing on computer keyboards.
Kayley waited until one of them was free and then walked up her. It was a petite brunette with lively green eyes.
Giving her a cursory glance, the brunette asked, “Name?”
It had been several years since she’d had to go through the interview process. Kayley felt the tips of her fingers grow icy as she answered, “Kayley Quartermain.”
The receptionist skimmed a list she pulled up on her screen. Frowning, she looked up again and asked, “And you’re here to see...?”
She’d memorized everything on the piece of paper Aunt Maizie had handed her, but she still looked down at it before answering.
“Dr. Dolan.” It felt as if the man’s name was sticking to the roof of her mouth.
The receptionist pulled up a new list, this one apparently highlighting that particular doctor’s schedule for the day. If anything, the frown on her lips deepened.
“Are you sure you have an appointment?” the woman asked. “I don’t see you on Dr. Dolan’s list.”
“I’m sure,” Kayley told her. “I called your office to verify the appointment yesterday afternoon.”
The receptionist shrugged and reached toward a shelf where two sets of forms were stacked. “New patient or follow-up?” she asked.
“Oh.” It dawned on Kayley that the receptionist was making a mistake. “Neither.”
Confusion creased the young woman’s high forehead. “Well, then, I’m afraid that you can’t—”
“No, you don’t understand,” Kayley said, cutting her short. “I’m applying for the position of Dr. Dolan’s physician’s assistant,” she explained. “I was told he was looking for one.” Then, to back up her claim, she added, “I emailed him my résumé.”
The receptionist instantly became friendlier. “Boy, is Rachel going to be happy to see you,” she said with enthusiasm.
“Rachel?” Kayley asked uncertainly, not sure what the receptionist was telling her.
“That’s Dr. Barrett’s physician’s assistant,” the receptionist explained. “She’s helping Dr. Dolan out until he finds his own PA. But she’s also working for Dr. Barrett and between the two, she can hardly draw two breaths consecutively.” The receptionist lowered her voice. “The poor thing’s