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said, “It’s our job to make sure they don’t suffer for their lapses in judgment.” He’d be tremendously disappointed in her lapse in good judgment that now jeopardized the practice he’d built.
    Marci, her chiropractic assistant, met her as she was leaving the treatment room. “Your next patient is in treatment room three. I put heat on her neck and did some passive range-of-motion stretching.”
    “Perfect.”
    “I talked to my sister, Dr. Hammond. She’s got time to help you out part-time with the bookkeeping.”
    “It’s not your problem,” Jamie said, more sharply than she’d intended. She reached up and squeezed Marci’s shoulder. She’d been a patient and basketball star at Santa Clara University and was her right hand with patient treatment. “I’ll work it out.”
    She had to, for the sake of her relationship, and the patients who depended on her for care, and the staff who depended on her for jobs. “I’m trying, Dad,” she whispered to herself.

    *

    Alone in her office as her staff headed off to lunch, Jamie turned on the iPod on the credenza behind her desk. She was still in one of what Penni called her “Melissa moods,” brought on by the concert last month at The Mountain Winery. It had been a magical night with Penni, her wife Lori, and a group of friends—one thing they still made time for in the midst of careers and kids. It was fun to pretend they were still young, screaming for their favorite rock star. If Sheryl had come it would have been a perfect evening.
    “Got a minute?” Don Walker, one of Jamie’s associate doctors, was standing in the doorway.
    “Sure.”
    Don lowered his beanpole frame into the chair across the desk from Jamie. “Do you think I’m a good doctor?”
    “Of course.”
    “I don’t know, Jamie…I thought I did a good job with several patients last week, but they’re not any better today. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.” Don fidgeted with the pen in the pocket of his white clinic coat. “Maybe I should have gone into computers like my dad wanted.”
    “Nonsense,” Jamie said. “Never doubt yourself. Patients place their trust in us, and we have to inspire confidence—” She stopped. That was her father’s answer whenever she voiced any doubts. His dismissive attitude had hurt. She rubbed her forehead and took a deep breath. “You’re one of the best associates I’ve had, Don. It took me…oh, about ten years to gain enough confidence to not panic every time a patient didn’t get well right away.”
    “I find that hard to believe. You make it look easy.”
    “Trust me. I came out of chiropractic school as unsure of myself as you. Confidence takes time and experience. Be patient with yourself.”
    Don looked relieved as he stood. “Thanks, Jamie. I needed that. Sorry I bothered you.”
    “I want you to come to me with your concerns. Give this a fair try. If you’re not happy in a few years, go do something else.”
    Jamie rested her elbows on the desk and ran her hands through her hair. Sheryl wanted her to color it, but Jamie liked the gray that was showing at her temples. She was forty-five and wasn’t going to apologize for her age. She’d look for tickets to a concert Sheryl would like. Or maybe a pair of earrings like the ones she liked in Carmel. She needed to make sure Sheryl knew how much she loved her.
    Betty opened the door. “The applicant’s here.”
    “Show her back.” Jamie rolled down the sleeves on her pink Oxford shirt and buttoned the cuffs.
    “I’ll bring you a sandwich. Do you want your usual?”
    “Sure. And—”
    “Iced tea. I know.” Betty held up her hand, fingers crossed.
    Jamie stood, ready to greet the woman she hoped would be her new office manager. Fifteen minutes later she was all too willing to tell the woman who chattered like a parakeet that she had another appointment. The choices must be dismal if Betty brought this one in for an interview.
    She rubbed over her face, forcing back the