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level.
    “But I can tell you I’ve been a very busy woman in this
office. My mind has been focused on my job, not you or D.R. I’m a single mom,
with a wonderful daughter. I just became the CEO of a challenging, but
promising company.” She paused, looking at each closely. “Are you jealous of
me?”
    Jasmine blurted out, “Not me. I don’t envy you at all,
Madison. I wouldn’t want the job, but I admire you.” The two other blonde heads
nodded. “I don’t know how you’re going to do it.”
    Madison said, “I’m going to do it with your help. That’s how we’re going to do it.”
     
    For the rest of the day, the office was a flurry of
activity, phone calls returned, files put in order, the trio getting some
hands-on training with the office productivity software and equipment.
    Around 6 o’clock, as they entered the elevator down to the
parking garage, Madison asked, “So what bars are we hopping tonight, ladies?”
    The three were incredulous, and frazzled looking. “Are you
kidding? I’m so tired I could fall asleep right now, said Mindy.”
    Roxy chimed in, “I’m going home, drink vitamin water, and
fall asleep watching old re-runs on TV.”
    Jasmine laughed. “I think I’ll just crash on the sofa.”
    Madison, looking calm, joked, “Guess I’ll have to party-down
on Asheville tonight by myself.”
    They all laughed.
    As they stepped off the elevator, Roxy touched Madison’s arm
and said, “Thanks for treating us like…real women today.”
    Madison smiled at the three and headed for her rusted
Cavalier. But she was working on trading cars.

Chapter Seven
     
    Cobalt Medical Center commanded a sprawling campus on the
edge of Asheville’s rolling landscape. It had gained an excellent reputation
through the years. During the past ten years an aggressive building and
expansion program had resulted in a medical facility that was competing with
the best. But in the last three years concerns had been raised over the
tight-fisted budget practices of the current hospital administrator.
    For the past three days doctors at Cobalt Medical Center had
analyzed D.R.’s medical records, and 65-year-old Dr. Milhouse Stillwell, who
had served as the Fallington’s family doctor for years, was prepared to go over
the options.
    “Morning D.R., how’re you feeling?”
    “Terrible, so fix me up so I can get out of this lousy
place.” He carefully adjusted himself on the hospital bed, wincing at the
various pains he’d aroused.
    Stillwell studied him as he walked around the bed glancing
at the bedside monitor’s digital readouts, thinking that his attitude hasn’t
changed an iota. D.R. is the worst patient he’d ever had.
    He stepped closer to the bed, feeling of his neck and facial
muscles near the bandaged gash the wreck had delivered. He listened to his
heart and breathing, muttering the anticipated, “Fine. Fine. Sounds good.” He
draped his stethoscope around his neck.
    “Let me give you an update and spell out some options for
you to consider.”
    D.R. grunted, looking with his right eye only, since the
bandage for the cut on his cheek was partially placed catty-cornered across his
left eye.
    “You received a nasty cut on your cheek, but you’re fairly
young so the healing should be normal. Later on, if needed, a plastic surgeon
can help minimize any scarring.”
    D.R. was uncomfortable thinking about any scarring on his
face.
    “Your joints received a thorough wrenching in the wreck. Most
should go away with time provided you practice good healthy living. However,
scans and X-rays can only show us so much. Measuring unseen stress on joints,
tendons, and ligaments is not easy to do. So as you age there’s a slight chance
of little surprise aches and pains.”
    Millhouse watched D.R. grow impatient, so he cut to the
chase.
    “Your right ankle is where most of the damage was done.
You’ve got a number of fractures. Modern medicine can do unbelievable things,
but we’re not