Amanda gave her a snobbish look then glanced at the paperwork. “I’m not filling out any papers. This thing didn’t mention any of that. It just said to be here at this time, and I’m here.” She shook her own paperwork in her hand.
“Young lady, if you don’t fill out this paperwork, I’m not even going to know who you are.” The woman, probably in her fifties, used a school-teacher’s voice to scold Amanda.
“I don’t need this crap. I didn’t even want to come today. See ya, wouldn’t want to be ya.” Amanda did a light-footed pirouette, waved nonchalantly over her shoulder, and strode for the door.
The office door to the side of the receptionist opened, producing two women who were casually chatting. Amanda looked back, briefly catching the eye of the younger of the two women. She looked vaguely familiar, Amanda thought, although she couldn’t place her.
Amanda placed her hand on the chrome door pull and was leaning backward when she heard, “Amanda Garrett?”
She dropped her head and muttered, “Busted.” She turned around, stepped to the side as the previous “client” brushed past her, and said, “That’s me. Who wants to know?”
Amanda watched a strikingly beautiful woman walk toward her. Auburn hair, light, almost sky blue, eyes, and a fresh, clean face. Slim figure, lots of thin gold bracelets on one arm, and trendy Chino pants with a tight-fitting light green blouse. An emerald necklace hung against the freckled skin at her neck.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the woman said with a smile, reaching her hand out.
“Not particularly,” Amanda shot back, folding her arms across her chest.
“I’ll give you three guesses.” She put her arm around Amanda to walk her back toward the office.
“Don’t touch me, lesbo,” Amanda shrieked, pulling away.
The woman dropped her arm, then stuck it back at her, and said, “Hi, Amanda. I’m Riley Dwyer. Now let’s cut the tough-guy act and get this over with.”
“That’s more like it,” Amanda said, giving Ms. Dwyer’s hand a limp shake. Riley was walking slowly with Amanda following. “I’ve got things to do.”
“I’m sure you do. Graduation is just around the corner; college is coming up; your boyfriend is a football hero; swim meets going on…” Miss Dwyer was waving her arms in the air each time she mentioned an item.
“That’s right, plus I was voted most popular and best looking, so I’ve got responsibilities there, too.”
“Oh my, those are, like, the two best things,” Miss Dwyer mocked, though it was lost on Amanda.
“Yeah, I lobbied for it pretty hard. It was competitive.”
“All that and you’ve probably got a senior class trip on the way. I’m just so lucky you could fit me in.”
“Yeah, we’re going to the Bahamas.” Amanda looked at her watch and said, “Well, I don’t have much time, but I can give you a few minutes to check this off my list.”
“I’m fortunate.” Miss Dwyer gave Amanda a tight-lipped grin.
They were in her office. Three floor-to-ceiling windows were evenly spaced along the wall on the left. She had tastefully arranged a dozen plants, including two ficus trees and some elephant leaves, along the window wall. Splashes of light blazed through the glass, creating equally spaced rectangles along the floor. In the middle of the office was a large oak desk with papers on it. To the right were a sofa and two padded chairs. A smattering of pictures and degrees hung on the walls in no particular fashion or pattern. Several paintings of sand dunes and beach cottages were scattered throughout the office.
Amanda stopped and said, “Can you just sign this thing so I can get on my way?”
“And what thing would that be, dear?” Miss Dwyer came over to Amanda, again invading her personal space, to look over her shoulder at the paperwork.
“What is it with you? Really, are you gay?”
“No. Why would you think that?” Miss Dwyer took a step back. “You asked me to sign something. I just wanted to see what it was.” Again, her mock offense was lost on Amanda.
“Okay.” Amanda rolled her eyes warily.
“Why don’t we sit down, Amanda, and we can see what it is that you’ve got in your hand there.” Miss Dwyer motioned at the papers.
“Nah, I’d just rather you sign this and let me get out of here. There’s nothing here for me.”
Miss Dwyer walked around her slowly, sizing her up, looking at her with those pale blue eyes, and then sat down in one of the two overstuffed chairs.
“You’re creeping me out, woman. Maybe you’re the one who needs the shrink.”
“Maybe so. Why don’t you give me your analysis.” Miss Dwyer waved her arm toward the sofa.
“Well, this could be kinda cool, but only if you sign this paperwork saying I’m good to go.”
Miss Dwyer’s head popped up. She stared at Amanda.
“What? Got a problem with that?”
“We’ll see,” Miss Dwyer said absently, regaining her composure. “Why don’t you come down here and analyze me, young lady.”
Amanda sat down in the chair across from Miss Dwyer, crossed her legs, and laced her fingers together over her knee as she leaned forward.
“Let’s start with your childhood,” Amanda said in melodramatic form. She drew on her theater training, bugging her eyes wide open.
“Normal. Two great parents, an older brother who protected me and plenty of friends. I’m close with them all today.”
“Hmmm. Sounds like the famous African Normalcy Syndrome, or what we call ANS. It strikes in our sleep.”
“But doctor, I’m not complaining of any issues,” Miss Dwyer countered, smiling like a Stepford wife.
“Ahh, but therein lies the nastiness of this disease,” Amanda said, wagging her finger. “You just don’t know you have it.”
Miss Dwyer drummed her fingers on her knee, smiling inwardly. “Wow, you may be on to something.”
Enjoying herself, Amanda continued. “Now, the real test is how you have matured as an adult. So tell me about your relationships. I see no ring on your finger. You’re passably cute, and you’re probably only twice my age.”
“Oh, girlfriend, you flatter me so.”
“Tell me about your love life.”
Riley stiffened, even though she knew the teenager was just playing a game. It was a natural reaction. She had exactly one love in her life, and he was no longer available. Her heart had been crushed, perhaps her soul as well.
“Come on, come on, out with it now,” Amanda mocked.
“Your time is up, doctor. It’s my turn.”
“Oooh. Struck a nerve, did I? What is it, give him sex too early and he dumped you? That’s what happens in high school. You gotta tease the guys and manipulate them so they stick around.”
Riley smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. “Okay, young lady, I can see you’ve got a career in psychology ahead of you.”
“Please,” Amanda scoffed.
“Now that your father’s dead, tell me about him, Amanda.” Miss Dwyer’s words were a bolt out of the sky, a momentum changer. In an instant, the well-practiced psychiatrist had seized control of the situation.
Amanda stared at her for a moment then looked down, pulling at her pink shirt with one hand, as if picking lint. “Nothing to say. He’s dead.” Then she thought a moment and said, “But he left me half a million dollars. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Why did he do that?”
“What do you mean? I’m his daughter; he had to. Mom told me that she had to get a court order.”
“Really. When did your mom say this?”
“I don’t know, a few years ago. Dad was always missing child support payments, never helping with anything. He just ignored me.”
“I see. Why did he do that?”