there?" Michelle questioned. She knew she'd crossed the line and already regretted her comment. There was no way she wanted to live with her father and all his crazy girlfriends.
"I'm still here," Angela said. She swung back around to face her sparsely furnished, modern office. "But I did not like your last comment one bit."
"But you are being unfair. I mean, you let me pierce my ears."
"Ears are one thing, but belly-button rings are something else entirely. But I don't want to talk about it anymore, at least at the moment. Have you had supper?"
"Yeah," Michelle said dejectedly. "Haydee made paella."
Thank God for Haydee, Angela thought. Haydee Figueredo was a gracious Colombian woman Angela had hired as a live-in nanny right after Angela had separated from her husband, Michael Calabrese. Michelle was only three at the time, and Angela was six months away from finishing her internal medicine residency. Haydee had been like a gift from heaven.
"When are you coming home?" Michelle asked.
"Not for a couple of hours," Angela said. "I'm going into an important meeting."
"You always say that about meetings."
"Maybe I do, but this one is more important than most. Do you have homework?"
"Is the sky blue?" Michelle said superciliously.
Angela wasn't happy about the disrespect Michelle's comment and tone suggested, but she let it go.
"If you need any help with any of your subjects, I'll help you when I get home."
"I think I'll be asleep."
"Really! Why so early?"
"I have to get up early for the field trip to the Cloisters."
"Oh, yes, I forgot," Angela said with an exaggerated grimace. She hated to forget events that were important to her daughter. "If you are asleep when I get home, I'll sneak in, give you a kiss, and then I'll see you in the morning."
"Okay, Mom."
Despite the conversation's earlier tone, mother and daughter exchanged heartfelt endearments before disconnecting. For a few moments, Angela sat at her desk. But the phone conversation with her daughter had reminded her of a time and an episode that had been equally as challenging and distressing as the current situation. It had been when she had to deal with both divorce proceedings and the bankruptcy of her inner-city primary-care practice, and the fact that she had survived them gave her confidence in her current circumstance.
With slightly more optimism than she had had earlier that afternoon, Angela pushed back from her desk, picked up her notes, and emerged from her office. She was surprised to see her secretary, Loren Stasin, sitting dutifully at her desk. Angela had not given the woman a thought over the previous three hours.
"Why are you still here?" Angela questioned with a touch of guilt.
Loren shrugged her narrow shoulders. "I thought you might need me."
"Heavens, no. Go on home! I'll see you in the morning."
"Do I need to remind you of your meeting tomorrow morning at the Manhattan Bank and Trust, followed by your meeting with Mr. Calabrese at his office?"
"Hardly," Angela said. "But thank you anyway. Now, you get out of here!"
"Thank you, Dr. Dawson," Loren said while surreptitiously putting away a novel.
Angela continued down the stark interior hallway. For a multitude of reasons, she wasn't looking forward to tomorrow's meetings. She always found it somewhat demeaning to try to raise money, and now, in such a desperate situation, it would be that much more humiliating. Even worse was that one of the people she would be asking for money was her ex-husband. Whenever she met with him, regardless of the reason, it almost never failed to evoke all the emotional turmoil of the divorce, not to mention the vexation she felt toward herself for having married him in the first place. She should have known better. There had been too many subtle suggestions that he would turn out like her father, challenged by her success to the point of encouraging bad behavior.
At the closed door to the boardroom, Angela paused, took a fortifying breath, then
"I'm still here," Angela said. She swung back around to face her sparsely furnished, modern office. "But I did not like your last comment one bit."
"But you are being unfair. I mean, you let me pierce my ears."
"Ears are one thing, but belly-button rings are something else entirely. But I don't want to talk about it anymore, at least at the moment. Have you had supper?"
"Yeah," Michelle said dejectedly. "Haydee made paella."
Thank God for Haydee, Angela thought. Haydee Figueredo was a gracious Colombian woman Angela had hired as a live-in nanny right after Angela had separated from her husband, Michael Calabrese. Michelle was only three at the time, and Angela was six months away from finishing her internal medicine residency. Haydee had been like a gift from heaven.
"When are you coming home?" Michelle asked.
"Not for a couple of hours," Angela said. "I'm going into an important meeting."
"You always say that about meetings."
"Maybe I do, but this one is more important than most. Do you have homework?"
"Is the sky blue?" Michelle said superciliously.
Angela wasn't happy about the disrespect Michelle's comment and tone suggested, but she let it go.
"If you need any help with any of your subjects, I'll help you when I get home."
"I think I'll be asleep."
"Really! Why so early?"
"I have to get up early for the field trip to the Cloisters."
"Oh, yes, I forgot," Angela said with an exaggerated grimace. She hated to forget events that were important to her daughter. "If you are asleep when I get home, I'll sneak in, give you a kiss, and then I'll see you in the morning."
"Okay, Mom."
Despite the conversation's earlier tone, mother and daughter exchanged heartfelt endearments before disconnecting. For a few moments, Angela sat at her desk. But the phone conversation with her daughter had reminded her of a time and an episode that had been equally as challenging and distressing as the current situation. It had been when she had to deal with both divorce proceedings and the bankruptcy of her inner-city primary-care practice, and the fact that she had survived them gave her confidence in her current circumstance.
With slightly more optimism than she had had earlier that afternoon, Angela pushed back from her desk, picked up her notes, and emerged from her office. She was surprised to see her secretary, Loren Stasin, sitting dutifully at her desk. Angela had not given the woman a thought over the previous three hours.
"Why are you still here?" Angela questioned with a touch of guilt.
Loren shrugged her narrow shoulders. "I thought you might need me."
"Heavens, no. Go on home! I'll see you in the morning."
"Do I need to remind you of your meeting tomorrow morning at the Manhattan Bank and Trust, followed by your meeting with Mr. Calabrese at his office?"
"Hardly," Angela said. "But thank you anyway. Now, you get out of here!"
"Thank you, Dr. Dawson," Loren said while surreptitiously putting away a novel.
Angela continued down the stark interior hallway. For a multitude of reasons, she wasn't looking forward to tomorrow's meetings. She always found it somewhat demeaning to try to raise money, and now, in such a desperate situation, it would be that much more humiliating. Even worse was that one of the people she would be asking for money was her ex-husband. Whenever she met with him, regardless of the reason, it almost never failed to evoke all the emotional turmoil of the divorce, not to mention the vexation she felt toward herself for having married him in the first place. She should have known better. There had been too many subtle suggestions that he would turn out like her father, challenged by her success to the point of encouraging bad behavior.
At the closed door to the boardroom, Angela paused, took a fortifying breath, then
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