When You're Expecting Something Else (9 page)

She snapped on a fresh pair of protective gloves she’d brought from the hospital, this time to prevent her from leaving fingerprints rather than to protect her and her patient from germs. She wandered around the house, opening doors and drawers, snooping in every cranny. Before this night was done, she planned to know everything there was to know about the wealthy man she’d been watching.

As of yet, Jared Wise hadn’t opened his eyes or regained consciousness, but he was breathing on his own, the ventilator having been removed without incident two days before. It was just a matter of time he could be discharged to his own home with a home healthcare team in place.

The doorbell chimed, interrupting her prowl, causing her to jump even though she’d been expecting it. She pocketed her last find, and with her gloves still on, she opened the front door with a welcoming smile to Cassandra and Kaitleen, their bag of food smelling like heaven, her hunger ravenous.

“Nice place!” Kaitleen exclaimed.

Marta nodded and took the bag of food from her.

“What’d you expect? I told you he was rich. That’s why I gave you the heads up when I heard he was in a coma,” Cassandra Turner said. “I told you, I know what I’m doing.”

“This is easier than I expected,” Kaitleen said, looking tired. Her medium length, dark hair drooped, and smudged mascara darkened her eye sockets. “After the work day I just had, I need something to go easily.” Her navy blue suit jacket was wrinkled like an accordion across the back and at the inner elbow creases, adding to an overall unkempt look, uncharacteristic for her. Her usual look, though bland, was professional enough to fit her administrative position.

Marta nodded. “Our troubles are almost over. You’re going to love being an administrator again, you’ll see. I already know I can get used to this. I’ve already started working on Jared’s discharge to home care. We just have to get his sick room set up here. Now that we’re in, it’ll be easy to get the medical supplies delivered. As soon as we have our plan, I can get the discharge order from the doctor. I’ve already set the stage for it at the hospital. I can get used to living here,” she smiled and reached into her pocket, pulling out a Bank of America credit card in the name of Jared Wise. “I already have my own room picked out. Of course, I’ll have to be primary on the case.”

Kaitleen looked around the living room, the stress of her day already fading like the sunshine fading from behind the open blinds. She walked over and closed them before speaking again, as if she didn’t want the outdoors to hear her thoughts. “We can get Fred from physical therapy in on it, too. He’s been waiting patiently since old Mr. Crockett died. He’s already gone through his share of the Crockett money. He gambles, but I don’t care what he does with his money, as long as he works, he can spend it wherever he wants. He’s good with the double billing; he hasn’t even figured out that we’re having him sign duplicate time sheets.” She rubbed her face as if to push her worries away.

“The Wise estate has more money than those others. I see bigger fish to fry with this one. Mr. Jared Wise the Third stands to inherit the whole Wise fortune when the old man dies, which might be sooner that you’d expect. And guess who’s going to be married to Jared Wise the Third when that happens?” Marta said, patting her lustrous hair and batting her sky blue eyes, fringed in dark mascara. She looked as refreshed and unruffled as she had that morning when she’d dressed for her day, still stylish and smart in her body hugging Calvin Klein jeans and colored top, though she’d kicked her shoes off and left them in Jared’s office.

“Oohhh,” Cassandra said, with a knowing nod. “But, that’s fine for you, Mrs. Future Jared Wise the Third. But, what’s in it for us? I’m not putting my sexy little fanny on the line just to attend your wedding.” She motioned to Kaitleen as if inviting support for taking a stand against Marta. Like Kaitleen she still wore her work outfit, soft navy pants with a light blue, short-sleeved sweater, and soft soled shoes. As the receptionist at San Francisco Geriatric Center, she needed to look both professional and practical. She never knew who would walk through the front door, or when she would be called upon to assist one of the nurses with a patient chore.

Marta waved away Cassandra’s concern. “A business plan, that’s what’s in it for all of us; a home healthcare business with the three of us as partners, owners, and operators. Think about it. With the Wise money we can buy our own geriatric center where we can bilk insurance companies with fraudulent claims and double and triple billing for the rest of our lives. We can hire all the stupid
Fred the physical therapists
in the world and provide a service for the poor, sick invalids that don’t have the mental faculties or family to manage their own affairs. It’s baby-boomer heaven for us!” Marta said with accented glee.

“What’s with this new plan for matrimony? I don’t like it. Jared can’t even nod his head to say,
I do.
Are you nuts? And what’s your boyfriend going to say, anyway?” Kaitleen argued.

“I think he’s cute,” Marta said, a greedy gleam dancing in her eyes. “Arthur and I broke up last week. He’s gone; so don’t worry about him. I don’t have a boyfriend right now, poor me. I’m thinking that Jared’s going to be waking up one of these days feeling all confused and vulnerable, you know. He’s going to need some special tender-loving-care, and when he does, I’ll be right there for him, helping him remember what I want him to remember and helping him forget what I want him to forget.”

“Of course, those little blue pills,” Cassandra smiled, warming up to the idea.

Marta nodded and held up the credit card. “There are more of these, too, from different banks.”

“You know you can’t just go charging on that credit card while he’s in the hospital. Don’t go being stupid,” Kaitleen argued.
 

“I know, we have to get him home first. We can use a contract with San Francisco Geriatric Hospital to get the medical team and supplies set up. Kaitleen, I’ll need your friend Julius to get us some paperwork in the name of Margaret Wise. Once we have her consent for Jared’s full time care in writing, we can kill her off in an accident in Europe. Then I can work my way into his damaged life.” Marta said, sounding as if she almost believed that Aunt Margaret actually existed.

“I’ll talk to Julius tomorrow, but I want you to forget about the matrimony part of your plan. Have you even thought about the Wise attorneys? You know this estate is going to be well documented and well protected,” Kaitleen said. “This is too big, I’m not even sure it can work. Let’s not let greed ruin our original plan. Let’s just stick with the insurance billing.”

Cassandra nodded. “Kaitleen is right. We know we can get away with the usual insurance fraud. The rest of your plan is too grandiose. Count me out. Come on let’s eat before the food gets cold. Is there any wine here? I need a drink.”

“Please, don’t say
fraud
,” Kaitleen said with furrowed brow. “Just say billing. I need a drink, too.”

Cassandra chuckled. “It is fraud, Kaitleen. You know that. I personally love saying the word.”

Marta carried the bag of food into the kitchen where she’d already set the table for three, with heavy stoneware plates and solid, thick utensils and glasses. “This place is kind of masculine, but I can live with it for now,” she said, looking at the dark kitchen colors and giant stainless steel appliances. She opened the boxes of food and put them into the microwave. She found several bottles of red wine in a high cupboard, pulled one out, then found a corkscrew in a drawer, and poured generously to fill the three glasses. When everyone was served, she reached into her large Gucci tote bag resting on the dark, granite counter and pulled out a computer disc.

“This, my friends, is how we’re going solve the problem of the Wise lawyers. Everything we need to know is right here on this disc I found in Jared’s office. I’ve already made my copy, and I’ll get it to my cousin Antoni tomorrow. He’ll know how to divert funds and replace the current lawyers,” Marta said, referring to her Eastern European cousin with his illicit links to the computer hackers’ underworld.

“You’re almost scaring me,” Kaitleen said, smiling wide despite a mouth full of fried rice. “Okay, let’s at least give it a try, see how far we can get.”

“Count me in, too. I almost forgot about your cousin and his computer skills,” Cassandra said.

They clinked their wine glasses together and drank to their very fine plan.

Chapter Eleven

My first meeting date is with a man named Sal, a dark-haired stallion of Italian descent, with such a suave, smooth style he nearly wipes me off my feet with his first smile. His tanned face is perfectly chiseled with angled cheekbones, a roman nose, and a dark whiskery shadow looking like a day’s worth of growth. His dark hair is brushed back with a flat top. We’re at the same Starbucks where I joined
datesforall.com
listening to chatter all around us, sitting outside near the open door where I can still hear the hissing of the pressure machines inside as well as the crunch of tires passing in and out of the parking lot. The temperature, digitally displayed on a building across the street, is seventy–two degrees. The sky is perfectly blue without the hint of a cloud.

I sit sipping a simple tall black coffee, wearing my multi-colored sleeveless sundress with black strappy sandals. He’s dressed casually in kakis and a tan and white striped golf shirt with white collar and trim, tennis shoes on his feet. He stirs sugar into a double espresso, and then passes me half his lemon pound cake, though I’ve insisted I’m fine without it. His phone chirps with a
 
text message interrupting us before we get started. I study his profile, watching him concentrate as his long, narrow fingers tap out a reply, his brow furrowed with one lone wrinkle, his dark eyes cast down.

He looks up and directly into my eyes when he speaks. “How is it a gorgeous woman like you has escaped the marriage trap?” he asks, ambushing me with a cold, rogue wave, his first question.

“Marriage trap? I really don’t see marriage as a trap. Do you really? I really want to get married and have children.” I stumble over my words trying to readjust my reaction. What did he write in his profile? Whatever it was, I know I dragged and dropped every man who’d said he didn’t want children. How did I miss it?

“Of course, marriage is a trap. At least for every man,” he says, laughingly. “Little snot-nosed brats running around with droopy diapers and sticky fingers. No woman with your intelligence and beauty can want that. You don’t really, do you?”

He doesn’t even know me! My initial first good impression of him vanishes instantly, fogged by this slippery, egocentric slither of words. My stallion morphs into a snake right before my eyes. Before I can respond, he takes my two hands in his, making my skin crawl. My unspoken emotions scream,
Icky, icky!

“You’re a beautiful woman, Connie Harrison, smart and attractive, and a nurse. You’re perfect for me, kind and pretty and nurturing.” His voice softens and his eyes roam to my breasts. “Will you take care of me when I get sick? Will you give me a bed bath, bathing my every body part, cleansing me with your warm, sudsy touch?” He flicks his tongue like a snake sniffing its prey. I am repulsed, almost nauseous with shame for having ever thought him attractive, the slimy creep!

I grab my hands away and try not to spill coffee onto my lap when I abruptly stand up. “No. I’m sorry, Sal, but for me it’s not a match. I wish you good luck on
datesforall
, but it’s not me you’re looking for.” My words are shaky, but there I’ve said it, and I’m free to go. Thank God that Anne has coached me on what to say when a meeting date doesn’t work out. I extricate myself from this horrible man, at the same time pulling my cell phone out of my pocketbook. My fingers slightly tremble as I search for Anne’s number. I want him to know that I’m armed with support if he tries to detain me.