Forever Comes in Threes, page 5
Carl’s chat popped up again. Got another.
“Hi. You’re live on Finding Natural Balance. What advice do you want to share?”
“My advice is about her sixteen-year-old. If this boy is hanging around your house after school when you’re not home, don’t take it for granted that your innocent little girl isn’t having or about to have sex with him. Sit the two of them down together and talk to them about the responsibility of a relationship and safe sex. Don’t wait for his parents. Let the boy know that you will hold him and his parents accountable if your daughter becomes pregnant. The biggest problem today is that society still lays the responsibility of unwanted pregnancies on the shoulders of the girl, and the boy usually walks away free to brag to his friends and destroy some other young girl’s future.”
A third caller dropped into the queue.
“Another good idea,” Ming said. “Shared responsibility is crucial to balance, something most societies lack. Assigning gender roles and responsibilities without regard to individual talent or personalities is our biggest failing. Boys need to take as much responsibility as girls, and the parents of boys need to get on board, too. Responder number three, what say you?”
A man’s resonant voice filled her speakers.
“Looking at this from a manager’s point of view, Ramona should regard these added responsibilities as an opportunity to show what she can do. She should listen to the Timed for Success podcast and read Dr. Chandler’s books on making the most of every minute. If you try, you can find lots of wasted minutes in your day. That’s time you can schedule to spend with your bed-wetter and the teenager. In fact, make a schedule for that teen. She won’t get pregnant if she’s too busy with after-school activities or a part-time job. Pay her to manage the household while you work. She can pick up your dry cleaning, clean the house, and learn to cook dinner. My sisters did that while they went to school.”
The chat thread exploded with listeners adding comments too fast for Ming to read before the next popped in.
Amy in Michigan: What did Caller Three do while his sisters did all the work at home? Play sports? Carry out the trash, which takes all of five minutes?
Sandy in South Carolina: Caller Three is either single or has a wife that does everything at home so all he has to do is go to work. OR, he’s divorced because his wife worked, too, and still had to handle everything at home.
Will in Maryland: This guy has never had kids, or if he did, they might as well be fatherless. I’ll bet he schedules himself a morning on the golf course every week, but never helps with laundry or does the grocery shopping for the family.
Parker in New York: Don’t knock it until you try it. Most people whining about not having enough time for everything are just poorly organized and easily distracted. Try a schedule for two weeks and see if it doesn’t relieve some pressure in your life. Timed for Success has it going on. I’ve been to one of Chandler’s seminars. It was life-altering.
Brenda in Atlanta: I read one of Chandler’s books when it hit the best-seller lists. People are not robots. How do you schedule your life down to the minute without accounting for human variables? And kids, for God’s sake. You can’t tell a baby he has only five minutes to be fussy, or schedule what time and how long it will take a toddler to poop in the potty.
Ming groaned. Not this podcast poser again. Was Chandler paying these people to infiltrate her program because of the comment Ming had made a few weeks ago? And, why did her name sound so familiar?
The next caller had more to say about the Timed for Success podcast.
“What better way to see where you’re out of balance? Chandler recommends charting what you spend your time on for a couple of weeks, then making a schedule to reach your optimum potential. It’s as simple as that. No voodoo’s involved. People are just afraid to exercise discipline in their lives. Hell. That’s why the generations we’re raising are dedicated to nothing but video games. They have no role models.”
Ming glanced at the timer and the chat line that had frozen under the onslaught of comments. This was getting out of hand. It was time she checked out this rival who had managed to hijack her podcast.
“That last observation is a little harsh and a broad generalization about our younger generations, but we’ve obviously touched on a topic we’ll want to explore further. Can running your life on a schedule help you balance it? While this might be the solution for trains, planes, or assembly lines, I’ll remind you again that humans are not machines. During Thursday’s podcast, we’ll talk about why this is not a healthy approach for people. Until then, take a moment to close your eyes, breathe in, and slowly let it out as you visualize syncing your heartbeat with the earth’s natural rhythm.”
* * *
Ming’s blood was still pumping double-time when her phone chimed with a FaceTime call from Carl.
“Wow. That was incredible. The chat line is still burning up on the website. I’ve had to restart it twice because it froze.” Carl’s face was flushed and his eyes wide. “We’ve got people jumping on the website, rather than falling off like they usually do when the podcast ends. Mind-blowing.”
“Go ahead and close the chat line for now. I’m only seeing back-and-forth among the chatters, and it’s starting to get ugly. That won’t help anyone’s zen.”
“I’m on it, Boss.”
“I need to check out this podcast they were talking about so I can offer some real advice to keep that hack from infecting my followers any further with this life-is-a-schedule mantra.”
Carl’s babbling about comments coming over the chat line faded from Ming’s attention as she googled the podcast. Her screen filled with findings from the search. Perry Chandler. What were the chances she’d run across two Perrys in the same week? Her gaze tracked to Wikipedia’s entry with photos. Holy shit! Not two Perrys. The same Perry. Ming had saved Perry’s phone number in her contacts as Amanda’s dogs because she couldn’t remember Perry’s last name after she left her house Saturday.
Hmm. A double-doctorate in business management and industrial processes, a frequent speaker at business conventions, author of several best-selling business-management books. There was plenty of information about her reputation as a top efficiency expert, but very little about her personal life. Ming chuckled. Maybe she forgot to schedule a personal life for herself.
Carl pinged her chat window. Check this out.
The web address he sent led to a profile feature in an industrial publication that outlined how Perry Chandler timed her day down to the minute for optimal production. Ming scanned it, then slowed to read carefully. She was beginning to understand why Perry seemed so stiff on Saturday. She must have felt totally out of her element.
“Is this for real?” Ming muttered as she read. “This has to be contrived for publicity. Nobody could actually live like this.”
The dogs would fix that. Or, at the very least, their cohabitation could be the experiment to top all experiments. Ming could see herself accepting a prestigious award after publishing the findings. I’d like to thank Molly, JT, and Tucker for making this transformation possible…
Chapter Four
The chime of the alarm set off a cacophony of barking that morphed into howls.
Perry rolled over and groaned. “It’s not the doorbell. That’s the alarm clock.”
More howls. Well, from Molly and Tucker. JT sounded like somebody was choking him.
“Quiet, quiet. It’s just the alarm.”
The dogs stopped for a moment and stared at her, then Tucker—obviously unconvinced—jumped off the bed and ran downstairs to bark at the front door, which prompted JT to resume his noise from where he sat next to her shoulder and Molly to bay from the foot of the bed. “QUIET!”
Silence at last. Perry sat up and rubbed her gritty, burning eyes. God. She’d barely slept. She’d always thought her self-contained community of townhouses, apartments, and single-family homes was quiet. The dogs, however, had a different opinion, answering every barking dog, sitting up to listen after neighbors slammed doors, and growling at things Perry couldn’t hear.
Julie had stayed over Saturday night, and the dogs had been relatively well behaved once the sleeping arrangements had been adjusted. The dogs hadn’t been satisfied with the landing outside her bedroom. Molly wandered around the upstairs until Julie moved her bed into the master bedroom, which made the boys pace back and forth between Molly and their crates because they didn’t want to be separated from her. Fortunately, her bedroom was large and easily accommodated the two wire crates and Molly’s bed in the far corner. Once they had moved the crates into the bedroom next to Molly’s bed, all had been relatively quiet until morning.
Last night had been a different story. Without Julie occupying the other side of her queen-sized bed, the dogs now thought the space was up for grabs. Molly grumbled and scratched at the side of the bed until Perry lifted her up, and then she curled next to Perry’s legs and began to snore. She’d already lost twenty minutes of sleep time arguing with Molly over the bed, so she gave in and turned out the light.
She was almost asleep when the second dog jumped onto the bed and curled up next to the pillow where Julie had slept. Seconds later, the third joined them and chose his spot close enough to rest his chin on Perry’s shoulder. She knew from his sigh it was Tucker. He’d barely let her out of his sight all day and had reluctantly let her comb the loose hairs from his wiry coat. Perhaps he was grieving more than the others. Deep down, she understood the longing for human contact, so she relaxed and allowed him this small comfort.
Strangely, Molly’s warmth against her leg, Tucker’s head on her shoulder, and JT’s little snores comforted her, too…until the first car door slammed. She nearly peeled herself off the ceiling after furious barking inches from her ear shocked her awake. Then, again, a few hours later. And a third time when some cats had a witching-hour territory dispute somewhere nearby.
Perry groped along the bedside table, found her liquid tears, and squeezed the bottle until the drops filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Wiping her face with her T-shirt, she glanced at the clock. She was already behind schedule. “SHA, are you there?”
“Good morning, Perry. I am observing the order to remain quiet.”
“I was speaking to the dogs.”
“Should I add them to the list of household members?”
“No. They’re temporary guests.”
“Acknowledged.”
Tucker reappeared at the bedroom door, and JT jumped down from the bed to greet him. Molly had already decided it was too early and was snoring again. Forewarned by Ming that the boys might pee in the house if she didn’t let them out at regular intervals, Perry trudged downstairs and let them into the backyard. They would be fine there while she completed her morning routine. She was halfway up the stairs when she met Molly coming down.
“I suppose you need to go out, too.” She turned around and let Molly join the boys.
Returning upstairs, she began her routine nearly ten minutes late.
Perry performed her usual ninety seconds of stretching exercises, then dropped to the floor and issued her standard command.
“SHA, four minutes. On my mark.” She easily fell into the routine of counting out twenty-five push-ups. “…twenty-three, twenty-four, mark,” she said, cuing SHA to signal when she’d achieved her four-minute plank.
“SHA, weather?”
She half listened to the daily weather report, then slipped her earbuds in and keyed her exercise music. She tried to mentally review material for the morning podcast, but the dark-haired beauty she’d met Saturday filled her thoughts. Maybe she should text Ming an update on the dogs. No. She didn’t want to seem needy. She’d do that later in the week. Maybe Wednesday.
She yawned, and her stomach muscles screamed, but she welcomed the pain. She needed something to get that woman out of her head. She’d been slow to climax Saturday night with Julie until she closed her eyes and pictured Ming between her legs. That had never happened before.
“Four minutes,” SHA reported. “There is a disturbance at the back door.”
Perry rolled to her feet and dashed to the kitchen, where the three dogs were barking to be let in. “Geez. It’s not even six o’clock, you guys. You’ll wake up Mrs. Mayberry next door.”
Molly sauntered in, giving her an it’s-about-time look. The boys dutifully followed, and all sat next to the refrigerator, turning expectant faces toward her. Morning meds. Right. They watched as she peeled the plastic from a slice of American cheese, folded it over to conceal the pills, then tore off the appropriate section for each dog. Tucker’s piece contained no medicine, but Ming had explained his portion would simply let him feel included.
She glanced at the clock while moving a prepared breakfast from the freezer to the microwave. “Start microwave in three minutes. Cook three minutes on high temp,” she said as she headed back to the master suite.
“Confirmed,” SHA responded.
She’d delay the extra three minutes she normally allowed for shaving on Monday mornings until tomorrow, after she’d adjusted her routine to incorporate the dogs’ needs. She could do this. After all, she designed efficient workflows for huge manufacturing plants. A single household with one person and three dogs should be a breeze.
* * *
Ming slowed her Mercedes as she approached the building owned by the physicians’ cooperative in which she was a founding partner. The practice didn’t open for another ninety minutes, but the parking lot was nearly full. She drove into the underground reserved parking and joined others arriving for the special meeting of the partners.
She crowded into the small elevator with five of her colleagues. Judging from the frowns that greeted her, she wished she’d taken the stairs, even though she avoided that route since walking in on a drunk using the enclosed staircase as his personal toilet—the stinky kind.
She smiled at Beth, the practice’s gerontologist partner. Most of the five partners had gone to medical school or finished residencies together. She and Beth were among the few that had done both, and Beth was the only partner who encouraged Ming when she decided to add naturopathy to her general-medicine credentials.
“Morning,” Ming said to the group. Four returned mumbled greetings, but Beth only glanced her way before rummaging for something in her large shoulder bag. She was not a morning person.
“I don’t know why we couldn’t meet over lunch or at the end of office hours,” Philip, the ob-gyn partner, grumbled. “I had to deliver a baby at midnight and barely got three hours of sleep in an on-call room at the hospital.” He glugged the last of his coffee and crushed the paper cup as if it were responsible for his exhaustion.
“You should have gone home.” Margot, one of two internists, handed Philip her full cup of steaming java. “Oh, I forgot. You had to move to the suburbs so your trophy wife would be closer to her country-club friends.” Her tone was as icy as the coffee was hot.
Philip glared at her. “It’s not my fault that you live in the club’s condos.” Everybody knew about the off-again, on-again affair between the two. And there was the rub. The wife must have been alerted to the affair by her friends and was now close enough to make sure hubby was playing golf when he claimed he was instead of checking out the decor of Margot’s bedroom. Karma had a way of coming back to bite you.
Ming didn’t mind the early hour but was peeved to have the time stolen from her. She normally arrived between six thirty and seven but used the time before they opened at eight to review and prepare for cases scheduled that day. “I hope this isn’t about another real-estate buy Lynda wants to add to our portfolio, or another partner wanting to buy in,” she said. “We already need another floor and a parking deck for all the new patients.”
Margot shifted her cold stare from Philip to Ming. “That’s funny. I don’t have a flood of new patients. Do you, Jessica?”
Jessica, their orthopedist, shrugged. “Probably a few less since Ming started offering acupuncture and osteopathic therapy.” Her tone was matter-of-fact but not accusing.
“What?” Ming was surprised. They’d often collaborated on cases, and Jessica had never mentioned any problem between them. “I’ve taken only patients you’ve referred to me.”
“I think we should save this discussion for the meeting.” John, their psychologist, had been silent until now. “Everything will be addressed there.”
The elevator dinged to announce their arrival, and the doors slid open to reveal the fourth-floor executive suites, effectively ending the puzzling conversation.
John was the only one who dared meet her gaze. Did they all know the reason for this meeting? John’s eyes were kind as he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, probably meant to be reassuring. It wasn’t.
Ming grabbed Beth’s arm as she moved from the back to follow the others out of the elevator. “Beth, what’s going on?”
Beth stared down at the floor. “Some of the partners seem to feel you’ve outgrown the co-op, Ming. That’s what they want to discuss.”
Ming was stunned. “Outgrown? What does that mean? You guys want to throw me out? You can’t do that. I’m a founding partner.”
Beth finally looked up, her gaze swirling with a mixture of emotions. “I don’t think you are the sole subject of the meeting. Lynda says the practice is headed for financial trouble if we don’t make some changes. She said the growth surge in your area of the practice is just one factor affecting our bottom line.”
“You didn’t think I should be given a heads-up about this meeting?”
Beth shook her head. “I swear to you, they knew I’d warn you, so they didn’t leak even a word of this situation to me until Lynda called me during my commute in this morning. I’m still digesting all this myself.”
