Free Plain Jane by Fern Michaels Page A

her and introducing himself. They hadn’t known each other in college. Never even met. She lathered her shoulders and neck. “Help me out with this, Ollie. Talk to me. You woof if I say something that strikes a chord, okay?”
    “Woof!”
    “Okay,” Jane said, satisfied that Olive was paying attention. “I’m a shrink and a pretty good one so—”
    “Woof!”
    “Thank you, but you interrupted.” The fact that the bathwater wasn’t hot anymore was of no consequence. Jane was thinking, clearly for once. And objectively. There was something about standing beneath a shower or lying back in a bathtub that freed the mind. Trixie always said her best ideas came to her in the shower. “Okay now, where was I? Oh, yeah. I should be able to figure this out.” Olive’s ears perked. “I’ve already ruled out that Todd was just a really friendly guy because he didn’t bother to introduce himself to Rose, who was standing right next to me. He wasn’t interviewing me for the alumni newsletter. And although he gave me his business card, he never called me later, so he wasn’t trying to sell me anything. And, with a wife who looked like his, he wouldn’t have been trying to hit on me.” She sighed, thinking she’d covered all this ground before. “What if,” she said, using the phrase Trixie and Fred used to come up with plot twists for their books, “he already knew who I was, wanted to meet me, and see if he could establish a rapport because he was looking for a psychiatrist?” Olive cocked her head to the side. “No, huh? What then? You tell me since you’re so smart.” Olive was silent.
    She closed her eyes. “This is making me crazy. I need to come to terms with it. I’ve been carrying around this guilt for twelve years. It’s ruining my life. I wish you could talk, Olive. I need some feedback here.”
    “Woof woof!”
    Jane nodded as if she understood. “You’re right. If I was the patient, I would tell myself to call Todd up, make an appointment to see him, ask him why he introduced himself to me, and tell him what happened that night.”
    Olive bounded to her feet when thunder cracked overhead. Jane hopped out of the tub and pulled the drain plug. She hated and feared thunderstorms as much as Olive did. “Hit the light switch, Olive!” Water gurgled down the drain as Jane wrapped herself in her ratty flannel robe. She ran for the bed, jumped in, and covered both her and Olive’s heads.
    There hadn’t been any signs of a storm when Trixie had dropped her off. Had there? Maybe she just hadn’t been paying attention. It didn’t matter. The storm was there, right on top of her from the sound of it. She knew she was being silly and even childish, but she’d never been able to control her irrational fear of storms. Maybe if her mother hadn’t locked the screen door on her and refused to let her in the house because she was dirty, she wouldn’t be going through this now.
    Jane knew she would never forget that day. The storm had come out of nowhere, just like this one. She’d given up banging on the door and crunched down in the corner of the old porch and cried. When lightning hit the pillar on the opposite side of the porch and the roof collapsed, she had screamed and screamed until she was hoarse. Her father found her hours later.
    Too many bad memories. Too much mental baggage.
    A long time later, Jane threw back the covers, her gaze going to the windows. A steady gray drizzle dripped from the eaves. It was going to be one of those days.
     
     
    It was eight-forty-five when Jane settled Olive into the passenger seat and buckled her up with the doggy seat belt she’d ordered over the Internet. She tossed her briefcase, purse, and flowered hat onto the passenger seat before she buckled herself up. “Okay girl, we’re outta here,” she said as she turned on the radio to get the weather report.
    The “uh” brothers down-home voices filled the small car. So named by Trixie because they