“Yeah, I know. I called Pam after I talked to Chloe to get her take. The public is impossible to predict. They’d been hoping that with no new information, the story would die and the public would forget it.”

“But that hasn’t happened?”

“Pam said it’s too early to say for sure. But the numbers aren’t looking good.”

Kate ran her hand through her hair. All this for nothing? The public apparently believed the reports and had decided she was a fraud. They were voting with their dollars, and she’d lost.

“Is it too late to fix it?”

“If you mean going to the press with your side of the story, Pam didn’t recommend it. She thinks coming this late, it would feel phony. The public would be suspicious of all the time you were quiet.”

Kate slapped the counter. “I was quiet because they told me to be.”

“I know, kiddo, I know.”

Kate dragged her hand down her hair and anchored the ends in her fist, pulling until her scalp stung.

“I’m afraid there’s more bad news.”

Kate braced herself. “My column?” If she lost her syndicated column, what would she have left?

“I’m afraid so,” Ronald said. “I’m sorry.”

Not my column. She’d already lost Glamour, but the column had been her baby forever. It was how she’d become Dr. Kate. She’d helped thousands of readers, and now it was gone. She remembered all the hours she’d spent reading letters and formulating answers. She remembered all the letters she’d answered privately because column space prevented her from answering all of them, and some of the letters seemed too desperate to ignore.

“We’ll get through this, kiddo. Let’s give it more time. Maybe your book sales will pick up again.”

Kate grasped onto hope. “Is that what Pam said?”

If anyone would know, it would be Pam. Her publicity experience allowed her to read the public better than anyone.

“No, but you’re too good at giving advice to be holed up in some office. It’s your calling, your gift, and we can’t give up just yet.”

It felt like it was over. She could write all the articles and books she wanted, but if readers didn’t trust her anymore, what did it matter?

Kate hung up and put the salad on the table as her dad entered with a plate of sizzling steaks. He said grace, then they served themselves and began to eat. Kate hardly tasted the food.

They were halfway through the meal before her dad spoke. “You’re quiet.” He speared a chunk of meat and put it in his mouth.

Kate told him about Ronald’s phone call and the apparent effect the scandal had on her career. “It’s not looking good, Dad.” That was an understatement.