the car out of the driveway.
I was shaking so badly I only drove around the bend in the dirt road, out of sight of the house, before I stopped to put my forehead on the steering wheel.
Five minutes ago Iâd been almost amused by the woman waving a piece of garden hose. Now all I could see was myself, with a shard of metal in my own hand. Her mad-woman tirade couldnât out-shout the words Dan had put on me.
You and your anger made him capable of this.
Was he right?
What if he was? What if I had?
The only thing I knew was that I didnât want Jake to look at meâor himselfâand see a woman throwing pieces of art in uncontrollable rage.
I dug in my purse for Pocoâs phone number.
CHAPTER SEVEN
S ully was passing the break room late Monday morning when an aroma pulled him in.
âWhen did we start a gourmet restaurant in here?â he said.
Martha looked up from the table where she was parked with a salad and a magazine and pointed wordlessly to the microwave. Kyle pulled out a plate of something bubbly and expensive-smelling and wafted it onto the table across from her.
âSeriously,â Sully said as he strolled to the table. âWhat is that incredible smell?â
âVeal Florentine,â Kyle said. âGet yourself a plate.â
Sully shook his head. âThereâs too much green in there for me.â âAnd nothing in it is fried.â The corners of Kyleâs mouth twitched. âDonât you people from Alabama like everything breaded and boiled in grease?â
âYouâre not that kind of Southerner, are you?â Martha said.
Sully eased into a chair, still studying Kyleâs lunch. âIâm the kind of Southerner who likes to know the ingredients in what heâs eating.â
âBut if it smells this good, who cares?â Kyle took a forkful and smiled, close-mouthed, as he chewed. Martha looked expectantly at Sully.
âHowâs it going so far, Kyle?â Sully said.
âIâm settled in, ready to work. Now all I need are some clients.â Kyle looked at Martha, who looked at Sully, who had never seen such smooth triangulation.
âIâve given Kyle two clients to start with,â Martha said.
âA seventy-two-year-old man grieving for his wife who died two weeks ago. Heâll need me for about three sessions before every widow at the senior center starts baking him pies.â
âOr you start baking them,â Sully said, eyeing the dessert Kyle was unwrapping.
âI donât cook,â Kyle said. âI just order out.â
Martha folded her hands neatly on the tabletop. âThe other client is an unhappy woman who I think will respond to Kyle.â
âSheâs a schoolteacher. Of course sheâs unhappy. Lookââ Kyle chipped at a flake of tissue-thin pastry with a tine of his fork. âI know every client deserves full attention no matter how small the problem may seem to us . . .â
âAnd that small problem may only be the tip of a much larger iceberg that has been forming for years,â Martha said.
âI just want something a little more intense. Thatâs the way I like to work, you know? Get in there and make a difference.â
âYouâll get your chance, tiger,â Sully said.
âWhen youâve shown what you can do with the less-intense cases.â Martha glanced quickly at Sully. âI hope Iâm not stepping on your toes.â
âListen, weâre a teamâand since Iâm not going to be here more than a couple of months, you two are the core of it.â Sully looked from one of them to the other. âSo I think your first session ought to be with each other. See if you can work this thing out.â
âIs there a âthingâ?â Kyle said.
âWeâll deal with it, Dr. Crisp,â Martha said. âRight now I need to look over some files.â
She tucked her Tupperware into a