Free When You're Expecting Something Else by Whisper Lowe

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