A Moment in Time (6 page)

"Well, well, well," said Charles Bradford,
who was also the owner of the clinic, in a hostile voice, finally
breaking the silence, "we hear you've been out to the infamous
Stonelair."

Valerie nodded in response.

"So it's true?" Daphne chimed in. "Our little
Valerie has met the mysterious Mr. Conrad."

Valerie smiled brightly even though she was
puzzled by Daphne's obvious sarcasm. It was an unusual tone for the
very pretty, very blond Daphne to take with her. Valerie had always
liked her and assumed that the feeling was mutual. They weren't
best friends, but their relationship had been amicable from the
start.

"Yes," she replied evenly, "I had to go out
to Stonelair Saturday night. A horse—"

"What was he like?" interrupted Charles in a
clipped, imperious manner.

"Oh, yes, Val," Daphne said, "tell us all
about him." She ran her fingers through her hair in a nervous
gesture and shifted her weight on her feet. She appeared to be
waiting anxiously to hear what Valerie had to say.

"This Arabian stallion—" Valerie began.

"No-body cares about the horse, Val," Daphne
said. "Tell us about Conrad!"

Everyone laughed, including the dapper Dr.
Charles Bradford, who seldom ventured so enthusiastic a
response.

"I didn't meet him," Valerie replied.

"What?" the three women cried in unison.

Valerie noticed that even Charles appeared to
be perplexed by her response. He took off his glasses and began to
clean them on a handkerchief, as if his hearing had been affected
by dirty lenses.

"Sorry," she said. She smiled and shrugged
apologetically.

"Damn," Daphne swore. "You mean you didn't
even get a glimpse of Conrad himself?"

"No," Valerie said. "Some guy who works for
him met me at the stable, and I never saw him."

"Was it the big muscley one we hear so much
about?" Daphne asked.

Valerie nodded, looking at her. "Yes," she
said. "He looks sort of like Mr. Clean."

"You didn't see anybody else?" Charles asked.
"Nobody at all?"

"No," Valerie answered, shaking her head. "He
was the only person around."

"What was he like?" Daphne asked. "Is he . .
. well, I've heard he's really kind of creepy."

"He was strictly business," Valerie replied.
"I didn't really get to know him. You know, I was dealing with the
horse, and—"

"Oh, hell," Daphne said. "You're worthless,
Val. No useful information at all."

The telephone rang, and Tami picked up.
"Animal Clinic," she said in her pleasant professional voice. She
listened for a moment, then said: "Hold, please."

She looked up at Valerie and held the
telephone out over the top of the reception counter, a triumphant
gleam in her eyes. Everyone looked over at her.

"It's for you, Dr. Rochelle," Tami said.
"It's Mr. Santo Ducci at Stonelair. Line one."

"I'll take it here," Valerie said. She
reached for the receiver at once rather than retreating to the
privacy of her office to take the call. She wondered if Storm
Warning might have taken a turn for the worse.

"Dr. Rochelle," she said.

"Good morning, Dr. Rochelle," the giant said.
"This is Santo Ducci at Stonelair."

"Yes, Mr. Ducci," she replied. "Is there a
problem with Storm Warning? Is he okay?"

"He's doing great," Ducci said. "Really
great. There's no problem there."

"Good," she said, relieved.

"The reason I called," Ducci continued, "is
that Mr. Conrad would like for you to take care of all the animals
here at Stonelair. I mean you personally."

Suddenly Valerie noticed the four pairs of
eyes on her. Now she wished that she'd taken the call in her
office. "I appreciate that, Mr. Ducci," she said, "but that's not
clinic policy. Generally speaking, we have a share-and-share-alike
rule here. It depends on who's on duty. We do make exceptions, but
I'd have to discuss it with the other veterinarians."

"I see," he said. "Well, I'm sure Mr. Conrad
would make it worth your time if you agreed to see to his animals
personally," Ducci went on. "He likes the way you handled Storm
Warning, and there are a lot of animals out here to take care
of."

Valerie could see that Ducci—or Conrad—was
not to be easily rebuffed. "I'll see what I can do, Mr. Ducci."

"I'd appreciate that," he said. "I mean,
surely the other vets there would understand if somebody wanted
your services."

"I'll have to discuss it with my colleagues
and get back to you," Valerie said.

"Good," Ducci said. "We'll be waiting to hear
from you."

"Okay."

"And thanks again, Doc."

"You're welcome," Valerie said. When she was
certain he'd hung up, she handed the receiver back over the
reception counter to Tami. "Thanks, Tami."

Valerie saw the questioning looks from
everyone in the reception area. Charles Bradford broke the silence
once again. "That's the guy who works for Conrad, I take it?"

Valerie nodded.

"So, what did he want?" he asked, his cold
gray eyes boring into hers.

Valerie hesitated before answering, then
plunged ahead. "He said they'd like for me to take care of the
animals out at Stonelair," she said.

"You mean you personally?" Daphne said. "Not
the clinic?"

"That's what he said."

"He must've liked your looks," Charles
Bradford snapped, his tone burning with scorn. He slapped a medical
chart against his thigh and strode out of the reception area toward
his office, his slightly long gray hair flipping up in the breeze
he created as he walked.

Valerie felt her face flush with
embarrassment.

"What's wrong, Val?" Daphne asked, seeing the
look on Valerie's face. "Did Charles hit a sore spot?" Without
waiting for an answer, she turned and, like Charles, headed for her
office.

Annie suddenly looked very busy behind the
reception counter, but Tami gave Valerie a look of understanding
and concern.

Valerie felt like screaming, but instead,
ears burning with indignation, she quickly got a cup of coffee from
the communal coffeemaker, then went to her office, Elvis trailing
along behind her. She closed the door, and Elvis immediately went
to his bed under her desk, where he curled up to nap. She heaved
her carryall onto the desktop, then sat down heavily.

She had become accustomed to Charles's
behavior, but she couldn't fathom this sudden sarcasm in Daphne.
Jeez!
she thought. How
much longer can I take this
crap?
She knew that Charles was miffed because time and again
clients asked for her to see to their animals rather than anyone
else at the clinic. And time and again, she'd had to endure
Charles's resentful, jealous remarks.

Charles had singlehandedly established the
clinic and built it up into the very successful practice that it
had become. Valerie realized that he had a right to feel proud of
his accomplishments, but did he have the right to be so demeaning
toward others? He relished his role as the boss and treated her as
a Johnny-come- lately underling who should always defer to him.
Perhaps he felt threatened by her in some way, particularly by her
popularity with patients. He had always been the "face" of the
clinic, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Daphne was another matter. She had moved up
from the south only three years ago, her arrival surrounded with
rumors of a torrid affair gone bad. Valerie had never learned if
there was any truth to these stories, but they had gradually died
down anyway and were replaced by gossip about the obvious sexual
interest that Charles had in Daphne. She had quickly become the
clinic's most valued employee since Charles was determined to get
in her pants. As Valerie and Daphne became friendly, she'd had
several opportunities to see Daphne fend off Charles's advances.
She naturally assumed that Daphne had no feelings for Charles and
was perhaps still stinging from the wounds of her last
relationship. But she didn't really know. For as friendly as they
became, Daphne never revealed much of her personal life. Theirs was
an easy friendship that had grown over the past three years. Or at
least that's what Valerie had thought. Today made her wonder.

"Shit, shit, shit!" she said aloud. To have
to take abuse from Daphne as well as Charles was too much.
When
is this ever going to end?
she thought. But she knew the answer
to that question, in theory at least:
When I have my own clinic
and I'm my own boss, that's when.

There was a knock at the door, then it opened
before she could answer.

"Here," Tami said, her hand extended. "You
forgot your schedule for today."

"Thanks, Tami." Valerie took the proffered
sheet of paper.

"You're welcome," Tami said, eyeing her
curiously before closing the office door.

Valerie took a sip of coffee and looked down
at the schedule, but she didn't really see it.
I can't
concentrate
, she thought miserably. She realized that her
defenses were at a low point this morning and that the catty
remarks had bothered her more than usual. Suddenly she felt almost
overwhelmed by worry and fear and had a powerful urge to cry, but
she was determined not to.

I'm not going to let them get the best of
me
, she thought.

It had all started with Teddy this
weekend—her worries and fears—with his proposal and her own stupid
response. Now it was only getting worse, and here at work, which
she'd always thought of as a sort of haven.

Her vision of working in a veterinarian
clinic, caring for animals, had always been one of a peaceable
kingdom where concern for animals was of paramount importance. She
hadn't envisioned the office politics, the games of one-upmanship.
She had never dreamed of the sometimes callous attitude that
doctors and staff displayed toward the animals and their owners.
Nor had she imagined that it would take her years to pay off the
tens of thousands of dollars she owned in loans that she'd taken
out to get through school.

Elvis growled in his sleep, and she reached
down and stroked him gently.
I've got to snap out of it,
she
thought.
Self-pity will get me nowhere fast
. She picked up
the daily schedule and took a sip of her coffee. She could see that
it was going to be a busy day, and she was glad of that. It would
keep her mind off of her troubles. The telephone rang, and she idly
picked up the receiver, still perusing the schedule.

"Hello," she said.

"Valerie, dear," the cultured, dulcet voice
of her mother intoned.

"Hi, Mother," she said, wishing now that
she'd told Tami to screen her calls—and feeling guilty about having
such a thought.

"How was your weekend, dear?" her mother
asked.

Damn!
Valerie thought.
I wonder if
Teddy's already talked to her, and she knows about the ring.
"It was okay," she replied mildly.

"That's all?" her mother asked pointedly.
"Okay?"

"Yes," Valerie replied. She decided she would
not let her mother push her around this morning.

"I see," Marguerite de la Rochelle said. She
paused momentarily, then continued. "I phoned because I want you
and Teddy to come to dinner tonight."

"But today's Monday, Mother," Valerie said.
"Teddy's gone back to—" Then she remembered that Teddy was taking
the week off. He was staying out in the country.

"I should think you would know better than
that," Marguerite said with reproach. "I spoke to him early this
morning. He's staying at Apple Hill all week, and he'll be here for
dinner."

Valerie's heart sank.
They're ganging up
on me
, she thought
. The two of them are in cahoots as
usual
. "I wish you'd discussed this with me first," she said.
"I have a very busy day and need to get a lot of things done at
home tonight."

"I'm sure that whatever it is you have to do
at your little home can wait," Marguerite said disparagingly. "I'll
expect you around eight, dear."

Before Valerie could answer, her mother had
hung up.
Shit,
she thought as she replaced the receiver in
its cradle.
Why do I let her do this to me? And why does she
always make me feel like a naughty child who is guilty of
something? Why does she always make fun of my little house? The
house I've worked so hard to buy?

She wanted to scream for the second time that
morning, but restrained herself, gritting her teeth.
I'd like to
choke them both
, she thought.
Teddy
and my
mother!
She could already envision tonight's dinner. First,
Marguerite would have to see the ring and swoon and coo to Teddy
about it. Then Teddy and Marguerite would laugh and talk amiably,
like old lovers, gossiping about mutual friends and acquaintances,
the latest antics among the bluebloods in Manhattan and here in the
country, and finally coming to focus all of their considerable
energies on
her
.

Pressuring her into setting a date.
Pressuring her into putting her house on the market and moving in
with Teddy. Pressuring her to accept Teddy's offer to build her a
clinic of her own and pay off her loans. Pressuring her into giving
up nearly all the independence and self- reliance that she'd worked
so long and hard to achieve. Soon enough, they'd be pressuring her
into having babies and working part-time or giving up her work
altogether.

And never once taking into account her own
thoughts and feelings on anything. Never once giving her any credit
for having an opinion, discounting out of hand any that she might
express. It was as if she didn't matter in all of the elaborate
plans they'd worked out for her.

Some things never change
, she
realized. Growing up, Valerie had been an outsider even in her own
family. Marguerite was a vain and beautiful woman, obsessed with
her own physical appearance and, equally as important, the image
that the de la Rochelle family presented to the world. She was
still incensed that Valerie had chosen to drop the "de la" from her
name and go simply by Rochelle, failing to understand that Valerie
had done it for simplicity's sake. Valerie de la Rochelle was a
mouthful for some of her clients, and actually created a sort of
barrier between her and others. Besides, she thought, we're no
longer living in the Dark Ages when such distinctions came about
and might have actually meant something.