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She leaves through the revolving doors, and I’m left alone with the nurses.
“Your … other best friend is almost done with her x-rays, Dr. Davis,” one of them tells me.
I leave the emergency room, not bothering to answer her.
All I care about is Emmy.
Chapter Six
Emmy
“No, Mr. Doyle, you don’t understand. My left arm is in a cast, and I’m going to have to take two months off of work.”
“Who told you that?”
“What do you mean, who told me that? My doctor! I have a doctor’s note,” I answer, feeling more and more frustrated with this conversation.
Sure, maybe two months off is a little ridiculous for a broken arm, but Evan insists I need to rest, and I don’t care to argue with him. Besides, I hate my job. Two months off will be a nice break. And since I qualify for workers' comp, I’ll still be able to pay the bills.
“I still don’t understand. How is this … doctor’s note stopping you from coming to work? And for two months, no less? This sounds suspicious to me, Miss Williams!” Mr. Doyle says.
I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself and not burst out on him. “Mr. Doyle. Please, try to meet me halfway. My left arm is in a full cast—”
“Well, good, that means your right arm works perfectly fine. And that’s your good arm,” he interjects.
“I’m left-handed…” I sigh. “And like I said, my left arm is in a full cast. How could I possibly do any work? How could I lift boxes? How would I put makeup on the ladies who come into Floreale and ask for a makeover? Would they even like seeing me like this … when they’re only interested in lipsticks and highlighters?”
He pauses for a moment, breathing heavily into the phone. “Hmm … I suppose that your broken arm might be bad for my business. Yes, you might be driving my customers away with that cast.”
As I listen to the man speak into the phone, I glance across my living room. Evan is sitting in an armchair on the other side of the coffee table, watching me have this nonsensical talk with my boss. He looks worried and ready to jump into action if I need his help—as always.
I pull the phone away from my mouth a little and, without making a sound, I mouth toward Evan. “It’s like I’m working for Scrooge.”
He starts to laugh and silently signals to me that I should hang up the phone.
But I can’t.
“Mr. Doyle, please … I really can’t do any work right now.”
“When will you be back?”
“In two months.”
“Two months?!” He acts like this is the first he’s heard of this, even though we’ve been talking about it in circles for the last thirty minutes. “No, no. You have to come in sooner. I cannot allow this.”
“Well, I’m afraid this is not something you’re really in the position of … allowing, Mr. Doyle. My cast comes off in two months. I can return to work then.”
“This is unacceptable! How could you do this to me?!” He’s now yelling at me over the phone.
“How could I do this to you? How could I break my arm, you mean?”
“Yes! Did you not think about how this would affect my business before you broke your arm?”
“Umm, no. I was too busy lying on the floor in pain to think about your business, honestly,” I answer, my voice now dripping with sarcasm.
Evan keeps making signs toward me that I should hang up the phone.
“Miss Williams! Did you do this on purpose? Are you trying to run me out of business?”
