“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a big girl. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now. I’m not going to keel over because someone isn’t there to hold my hand and place wet washcloths over my forehead every ten minutes.”

“That’s not the issue, Marjorie.”

“Then what exactly is?”

“You’ve gone through a life-threatening episode. Take advantage of this time to be waited on and pampered.”

“Take advantage of it?” She laughed sharply. “You’ve got to be kidding. What’s with you doctors? Do you get a kickback for every additional day a patient stays in the hospital?”

Marjorie’s ability to attract him paled beside her capacity to anger him. He knotted his hands into tight fists and clenched his jaw to keep from saying something he would regret. Her suggestion was so outrageous and so unfair that it offended him beyond anything he’d felt in years.

“I think it would be best if I left.”

“By all means go, Doctor.”

Sam retreated, shoving the door with such rage that it nearly slammed against the wall. A kickback? She couldn’t actually believe that, could she?

Marjorie watched him go and swallowed down a mouthful of remorse, nearly choking on the aftertaste. She hadn’t meant to suggest such a ridiculous thing, hadn’t planned to say the words. But she was desperate to escape. How ironic it was that a man—a doctor who had dedicated his life to saving lives—could be responsible for breaking so many hearts.

All Marjorie wanted to do was to put this unfortunate episode behind her and get on with her life. Every day she spent in the hospital was another day without income. She hadn’t been joking when she told Sam that if she didn’t sell cars, she didn’t eat. Most of her customers tended to glamorize her job, but it wasn’t anything like they imagined. She was in a cutthroat business.

In her frustration, she walked the halls until she was convinced her feet had made imprints in the polished linoleum squares. When Lydia arrived at five-thirty, she was so pleased to see her friend that she nearly threw her arms around the other woman and wept for joy.

“You look great. I don’t believe it! Your color’s almost back.” Lydia slid the lone chair closer to Marjorie’s bed and took a seat. “Dixon’s doesn’t seem the same without you.”

Despite her bad mood, Marjorie laughed, then sucked in a pain-filled breath and pressed her hand against her side. She hadn’t healed as much as she’d thought.

“Are you resting enough?”

Just the mention of sleep produced a yawn that Marjorie hid with the back of her hand. “You wouldn’t believe it. I haven’t slept this much since I was a newborn.”

“What about Dr. Sam? Have you seen much of him?”