Nothing But Trouble Read Free

felt frantically for a pulse and felt nothing.
    She ran into the house, grabbed the phone, and dialed 911. “Please send someone right away! I think my husband’s ... Oh God, I think he’s dead!”

Chapter 2
    Eight Months Later
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    D ana rushed into the offices of Drs. McCormick and Hausmann, psychiatrists, three minutes before their office closed at six P.M. She was later than usual in delivering their dictated patient notes, but as long as she got there before they went home for the day, technically no one could accuse her of being tardy. She did have a good excuse; a quick oil change and tire rotation this morning had turned into a complete brake job.
    Still, she apologized profusely to the office manager. This was her favorite client, and she definitely didn’t want to tick them off. They tended to use the same wording in their assessments, and since they had so many repeat patients, all she had to do was cut and paste older dictations into new ones and edit them as she listened. She found it sad that so many people with mental-health problems didn’t seem to be getting any better, but it also represented an easy way for her to make money in a situation where she desperately needed it.
    She’d been up since 5:00 A.M. , and with the exception of a forty-minute catnap, had been in motion all day. Her largest client, a family practice, had just added a new doctor, their third. The physicians and the nurse practitioner each saw up to fifteen patients a day, and between her two clients she had almost more work than she could handle. In spite of this, she now contracted additional work from another local service. And since her checking account balance got lower and lower each month, it still wasn’t enough.
    Unfortunately for her, the only life insurance Kenny had was the coverage that came through his work, a paltry $25,000. Because the medical examiner determined he had suffered a spasm while lifting weights, the policy paid double for death by accident, and she had received $50,000, but Dana had a mortgage payment, a car payment, utilities, health insurance, and food, which of course were just the basics. Plenty of extras figured into her budget as well, like Brittany’s weekly piano lessons and dance lessons, and cable TV. She’d had the premium channels turned off, and she hadn’t been to the manicurist or hairdresser in months, but she didn’t see how else she could economize. Part of her wanted to ask Cécile, who bragged that she fed her entire family of eight on less than a hundred dollars a week, for tips, but that would mean admitting she was in trouble. Dana had spent her entire adult life putting on a brave face, to the point where it had become ingrained in her.
    Nor did she confide in Brittany. Instead, she told her daughter they had nothing to worry about, but in truth she was beginning to get frightened. Kenny’s funeral costs had been high, largely because of the expense of shipping his body to his native Bahamas for burial, which she knew he would have wanted. She was going through the remainder of the insurance proceeds rapidly, spending as though Kenny were still bringing home a paycheck twice a month, which of course he wasn’t. After eight months, it was clear she didn’t have much time before the rest of the money was gone.
    Dana’s memories of what happened after she found Kenny that afternoon were fuzzy at best, even after all these months. As she placed hysterical phone calls, she remembered taking a moment to be grateful that Brittany wasn’t at home to see him lying there. First she called 911 and then Norell, who hadn’t gotten home from the mall yet, and finally Cécile, who sped right over, arriving just after the paramedics, and holding Dana upright when light-headedness made her begin to sway. She did remember the paramedics theorizing that Kenny had suffered a spasm while lifting the seventy-five-pound weight and