New York, Actually

Four

He didn’t have a great day. He had a frustrating, long and tiring day during which Molly kept popping up in his thoughts. He wondered where she went after she’d run in the park. He wondered who her friends were and what sort of life she led. He had a million questions about her, and very few answers.

Most of all he wondered what he’d said to make her run off.

He’d enjoyed the snap and spark of the conversation, the flirtation. It was the verbal equivalent of waterskiing— speeding and bouncing over the surface, but never delving into the deeper, murky waters below. It suited him fine, because he had no interest in going deeper.

He guessed she was the same.

He knew from the look on her face that she had issues. He’d seen that same look across his desk more times than he could count and he recognized the shadows of hurt. It didn’t worry him. He’d never met a human being over the age of twenty who didn’t have some issues. That was what being alive did for you. If you engaged in life, eventually you’d have scars to show for it.

He wondered who was responsible for Molly’s scars.

It was that urge to know more that drew him back to the park the next morning, with Brutus tugging at his lead. It didn’t occur to him that she might not show up. For a start she had to walk Valentine, and something told him she wasn’t going to change her habits in order to avoid him, so he took the usual path, Brutus by his side.

Without Valentine to keep him in line there was a strong chance the dog wasn’t going to come back, so he kept him on the lead. He’d even yelled “Ruffles” once to see if that made a difference but all that had done was confirm what Daniel already suspected, that the dog didn’t have a problem recognizing his name. He had a problem recognizing authority.

As someone who had grown up challenging and questioning, Daniel empathized.

He was hauling the dog’s nose out of a muddy puddle when Valentine appeared.

There was no sign of Molly.

“Where is she?” Daniel stooped to pat the Dalmatian. He was no expert, but even he could see that Valentine was a beautiful dog. And that heart-shaped nose was pretty cute. “Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong. I need a heart-shaped nose to win her over.”

He was wondering whether he should hold on to the dog or let him go, when Molly appeared, out of breath and annoyed.

“Valentine!” She reached them and frowned at the dog. “What did you think you were doing?”

Valentine wagged his tail hard.

It seemed to Daniel that whatever the dog had thought he was doing, he’d done it.

He guessed Molly hadn’t intended to walk this way today, but what the hell. She was here. That was all that mattered.

Today she was wearing a pair of running leggings that clung to her body in a swirl of purple and black. Her sleek dark ponytail curved like a question mark over her back.

Daniel unclipped Brutus’s lead and he sprinted off with Valentine. “Whenever I let him off the lead, I worry that might be the last I see of him. I only let him off when Valentine is here.”

“Valentine never usually runs off.” She frowned after the dog. “I don’t understand it.”

“I guess he wanted to play with his best friend. Look how happy they are.” He gambled on the fact that seeing her dog so content would stop her leaving and judging from her smile, he was right. She’d decided to forgive the dog for his transgression. “So how do you persuade a dog to come back when you call?”

“Training.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then you’re in trouble.”

He loved the way her eyes lit up. He loved the tiny dimple that flickered at the corner of her mouth. He loved the way her hair whipped across her back when she ran. He loved the way she ran like she owned the park. He loved the way she loved her dog—

He was definitely in trouble.

“Are you in the mood for an Earl Grey tea? Say the word.” He couldn’t believe he was suggesting tea when what he really wanted was champagne, moonlight and her naked.

“What’s the word? Please?”

“Fetch.”

The smile turned into a laugh. “You ‘fetched’ last time. It’s my turn.”

He liked the way that sounded, as if this was something regular that was going to happen again. “But then I’d have to watch the dogs, and you’re the responsible adult.”

“You’re not responsible?”

He looked at her mouth. “I’ve been known to be irresponsible once in a while.”

* * *

Molly sat on the bench, watching the dogs play. Irresponsible? Irresponsible was her sitting here waiting for him to come back instead of finishing her run and going home.

She’d started the day being responsible. She’d taken a different route on her run, but Valentine had protested. He’d sprinted away and for the first time ever had refused to come back when she’d called him. And now she was here again, on their bench, waiting for Daniel.

It was still superficial, she reminded herself. It was everything light and fun.

A heart couldn’t break if it wasn’t engaged.

“Tell me about him,” she said to Brutus, but he was too busy trying to bite Valentine’s ear to pay any attention.

Daniel returned as Brutus was tangling himself with Valentine. “I don’t suppose you specialize in dog psychology? My dog needs help.”

She took the tea from him, careful not to touch his fingers. “I’m better at understanding human behavior.”

“Behavioral psychology? That’s what you do?”

“Yes.” She saw no reason not to be honest about that.

“And do you prefer good behavior or bad behavior?” His smoky voice slid under her skin. She sensed this man could deliver a hefty dose of bad when it suited him, probably another thing that made him a magnet for women.

“Most people are a mixture of both. I observe. I don’t judge.”

“Everyone judges.” He took another mouthful of coffee. “So what does a behavioral psychologist do? Do you ever advise on relationships?”

“Yes.”

He lowered the cup. “So if you’re a psychologist, and you’ve studied this stuff, all your relationships must be perfect.”

She almost laughed, but knowing it would be a hysterical sound she held it back.

It was surprising how many people assumed her relationships would be perfect. It was like expecting a doctor never to get sick.

“You’re right. My relationships are all totally perfect.”

“You’re lying. No one’s relationship is perfect.” He glanced from her to Valentine. “And you’re here in the park every morning with your dog, which tells me he’s your most meaningful relationship.”

The conversation had somehow edged into the personal and she instinctively backed away. “I agree that no one’s relationships are perfect. The best you can do is make them perfect for you.”

He stretched out his legs, relaxed and comfortable. “Perfect, for me, would be short. I don’t like to get involved past a certain point. Judging by the way you react, I’m guessing you’re the same.”

He guessed correctly. And she couldn’t help being curious.

“You’re afraid of intimacy?” Why was she even having this conversation? What was wrong with her? She should be drinking her tea and leaving.

“I’m not afraid of intimacy. It’s more that I don’t have time for the demands that come with intimacy. My job is pretty all-consuming and in the time I have to myself, I don’t want complications.”

“That’s common among people with avoidance issues.”

“You think I have avoidance issues?”

“Love avoidance.” She noticed Valentine nosing something in the grass and stood up to pull him away from it. “People who avoid intimacy often do so because they’re afraid of being hurt. It’s a self-protection mechanism. Typically those in avoidance relationships don’t introduce their partner to friends and relatives because they don’t think the relationship will last long enough. They use a variety of distancing techniques. And it isn’t really about the current relationship, but about what has happened in the past. Often the roots of the problem are established in childhood. They are often people who didn’t establish a proper parent-child dynamic and healthy bonding.”

“My childhood wasn’t what you might call nurturing, but I put that behind me a long time ago. If you’re wondering about the origin of my views on relationships, I can assure you it has nothing to do with my parents. I’m not the sort of person who believes in carrying the past into the future.”

“Everyone carries at least a little of their past.”

“So what are you carrying?”

She’d walked right into that. “We were talking about you.”

“But now I’d like to talk about you. Or do you always deflect conversation when it becomes personal?”

“I don’t deflect.” She sighed. “All right, maybe I do. Sometimes. You asked me if my dog is my most meaningful relationship. The answer is yes, right now he is. I’m enjoying the simplicity of my life.”

“So are you avoiding intimacy?” He mimicked her question and she gave a reluctant laugh.

“Definitely. And I’ve never been happier.”

“So if we carry on seeing each other, are you going to be analyzing my every move?”

“We’re not going to carry on seeing each other. We’re having a conversation in the park, that’s all.”

“You already know me better than the last three women I dated, and you’re telling me that’s it?” He was smiling, and it was the smile that proved her downfall. That and a late night updating Ask a Girl, which had left her tired and lowered her defenses.

Sleep deprivation had a lot to answer for.

She sipped her tea, almost spilling the last of it as Brutus nudged her leg.

“Sit.” Daniel gave the dog a severe look. “This animal is out of control.”

“He needs to know who is boss.”

“He thinks he’s the boss. It’s a problem we’re addressing.”

“Brutus!” Molly said his name firmly but the dog didn’t even turn his head. “Maybe it’s not a behavioral problem. Is there something wrong with his hearing?”

“Not to my knowledge. Why?”

“Because he doesn’t seem to know his own name. It’s unusual for a dog to ignore his name, even if he ignores the command that goes with it. Hey—Brutus.” She pulled a dog treat out of her pocket and the dog’s head turned like a whip. “You know your name when there’s food involved. Why doesn’t that surprise me? How long have you had him?”

“Not long. How long have you had Valentine?”

“Three years.”

“Is that when you moved to New York?”

Molly reminded herself that thousands of people moved to New York every day. He wasn’t likely to take her picture and do an image search. “Yes.”

“What brought you to the US?”

Romantic disasters.

Professional and personal humiliation.

She could have given him a list.

“Career advancement. And I have family here. My dad is American. Born in Connecticut.”

“Career? For a moment I wondered if it was heartbreak.” He studied her face. “So do you think you’ll go back at some point?”

“No.” She kept her smile in place and her tone light. “I love New York City. I love my job, my apartment and my dog. Going back doesn’t interest me.”

“How about dinner?” Daniel reached down and stroked Valentine’s head. “Does that interest you?”

Molly watched, transfixed, as those long, strong fingers caressed her dog. Her pulse sped forward. Her insides tumbled and turned. And still she stared at those hands, watching as he seduced her dog with easy, comfortable strokes.

He’d asked her something. What was it? Why was it so hard to concentrate around him?

Dinner. That was it. Dinner. “You’re asking me to dinner?”

“Why not? You’re good company. I’d like to buy you something other than Earl Grey tea.”

There had been a time when she would have been tempted. She certainly would have been flattered. What woman wouldn’t? But that time had passed.

“I’m pretty busy right now.” She sprang to her feet, clumsy in her haste, and stepped on Valentine’s foot. He gave an outraged yelp and leaped away. “Sorry.” Racked by guilt, she stooped and kissed his head. “Sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?” Valentine wagged his tail, endlessly forgiving. “I should go.” She was aware that Daniel was watching her, his blue gaze speculative and a touch amused.

“I’m assuming you don’t have a fatal allergy to food, so I’m going to take that personally.”

“I don’t date guys I meet in the park.”

“How is it different from dating a guy you meet in a bar?”

“I don’t date them either.”

He finished his drink and rose, too. He was more than a head taller than her, his shoulders wide and powerful. His hair gleamed in the early morning sunshine. “What are you afraid of?”

“I turn you down and you assume I’m afraid? Isn’t that a little arrogant? Maybe I simply don’t want to have dinner with you.”

“Maybe. But then there’s the alternative possibility. That you do want to have dinner with me, and that is freaking you out.” Brutus nudged his leg, hopeful of another game, but Daniel kept his gaze fixed on Molly.

Awareness seeped through her skin and sank deep. “I’m not freaked out.”

“Good. Do you know the little French bistro two blocks from here? I’ll meet you there at eight. It’s a public place, so that should satisfy your ‘is he a stalker or a serial killer’ worries.”

“Even if I wanted to, I can’t. Today is Tuesday. Tuesday is salsa dancing.”

“Salsa dancing?”

“I go Tuesday and Friday nights whenever I’m free.”

“Who do you dance with?”

“Anyone. Everyone. It’s pretty casual.” And hot, sweaty, sexy and fun. Harmless fun. Nothing deep. Nothing serious. Nothing that made her feel the way she felt when she was with Daniel.

“So you’re happy to dance with strangers, but you won’t have dinner with one. How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Wednesday.”

“And Wednesday is…? Tango?”

“Wednesday is Italian cooking class.”

“You’re learning Italian cooking?”

“I started recently. I want to make tortellini as well as my neighbor. If you’d tasted his tortellini, you’d understand.”

“Thursday?”

“Thursday is spin class.”

“I never understood the point of cycling hard to get nowhere. Saturday? Don’t tell me—Saturday is quilting.” The paths around them teemed with joggers, walkers and people pushing strollers, but they were focused on each other.

“Saturday I keep free. I usually meet up with friends.”

“Great. Eight o’clock Saturday it is. If you don’t want to meet me in a restaurant, you can cook. I’ll bring the champagne.” He was comfortable and relaxed, whereas she felt as if she was floundering in the deep end of a large swimming pool.

“If you want to eat dinner with me you can join me at Italian cooking class.”

He shook his head regretfully. “Italian cooking is Wednesday, and Wednesday is poker night.”

“You play poker? Of course you do.”

“Why ‘of course’?”

“Ruthless killer instinct combined with the ability to mask your emotions. I bet you’re good.”

“I’m good.” There was a devil in his eyes. “Want to find out how good?”

Her mouth dried. If he was flirting, she was going to ignore it. “I don’t play poker.”

His smile widened but he let it go. “It’s mostly an excuse to catch up with friends and drink alcoholic substances. I’m not that competitive.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment.”

He laughed. “I should take you along. You could read their minds and send me clues.”

“I’m a psychologist, not a clairvoyant.”

“So with this packed schedule of yours, when do you date?”

“I don’t.” Damn, she shouldn’t have said that. Not only did she sound like a loser, but a man like him would take it as a challenge. “I mean right now, I don’t date. I’m focusing on my work. I love my life exactly the way it is.”

“Now I understand why you do so much exercise.”

“Because I like keeping fit.”

“No, it’s because you’re not getting hot sex. So you have to find another way of relieving pent-up frustration and releasing endorphins.”

Molly gasped. “I am not frustrated! We don’t all walk around thinking about sex the whole time.” Until she’d met him. Since meeting him that was pretty much what she did.

“Not the whole time, but a lot of the time. And you must know that. You’re a psychologist. We cloak ourselves in the trappings of civility because that’s what society expects, but underneath we’re all driven by the same primal urges. Want to know what those are?” He leaned closer and she saw the devil gleam in his eyes. “To procreate and win bigger than the other guy.”

“This is why we are never having dinner.”

“We’re not having dinner because you’re too busy. And you’re too busy because you’ve substituted spin class and salsa for sex.”

“I would rather take a spin class than have sex with you.”

“Shouldn’t you have sex with me before you make that decision?” His smile widened and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Maybe you’re turning down the night of your life, Molly-with-no-second-name.”

“I have a last name. I just don’t choose to share it with you.”

“One meal.” His voice was wicked temptation. “And if you’re bored, I’ll never bother you again.”

Bored? No woman would ever be bored with him. But they’d be a lot of other things. Most of all they’d be vulnerable. There was no male weapon more lethal than dangerous charm. And this guy had it in spades. “No thanks.”

He gave her a long, searching look. “So who made you scared, Molly? Who made you choose spin class and salsa over sex?”

She was so used to hiding herself, it shook her that he’d seen through her veneer.

“I need to go. Thanks for the tea.” She tossed the cup in the waste bin, grabbed Valentine and ran back through the park, taking a shortcut that led to her apartment.

He was right of course.

She was scared.

If you fell, next time you were more careful where you stepped. And she’d fallen hard.

Five

“Daniel! Thank goodness you’re back. I need to talk to you about the summer party and you need to sign these.” Marsha, his assistant, met him at the door with a file full of papers and a list in her hand. “And Elisa Sutton is in your office.”

“Elisa? Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Happy would be a day at a spa. Instead, I’m here.” She pushed the file into his hands. “I hope you appreciate my loyalty.”

“I do, which is why a ridiculously extravagant bouquet of flowers is currently on its way to you. Now tell me about Elisa.”

“She turned up half an hour ago, desperate to talk to you.” Marsha lowered her voice. “I’ve sent out for more tissues. Last time she used a box and a half.”

“You’d probably cry a box and a half if you were married to her husband.”

“He’s a box and a half kind of guy. You’re the only man I know who is good with crying women. Why are you so patient?”

He’d had plenty of experience.

A vision of his mother flashed into his mind and he pushed it away.

He wasn’t a man to wallow in the past. He dealt with it and moved on. So why the hell had that image sneaked into his mind now?

The answer was Molly.

Molly, with her searching questions about his childhood.

She’d dug around in a wound and now it ached.

That, he thought grimly, was what happened when you went deeper than the superficial. There was a lot to be said for not getting to know a person better.

Annoyed with himself for allowing the situation to intrude on his day, he focused on work. “Divorce is always emotional. Handling it is my job.”

“It’s Max Carter’s job, too, but he just abandoned a client who was crying a river in his office. He said he was giving her time to ‘compose’ herself. If I didn’t know for a fact that the guy is a brilliant lawyer, I probably wouldn’t believe it. Are you mad that I let Mrs. Sutton into your office without an appointment? You can fire me if you like.”

“The day you leave is the day I leave. We’ll walk out of here together, clutching our dead houseplants.”

“Hey, I water those houseplants.”

“Then you need to stop watering them. They’re dying.”

“Maybe the clients have been crying into them. Or maybe they’re depressed. If I had to listen to all the sad stories you’re told, I’d be depressed, too.” Marsha had started working for him when her youngest daughter had left for college. The same day her divorce had become final. The divorce he’d handled.

Her maturity, humor and air of quiet calm made her invaluable.

“Do you know why Elisa is here?”

“No.” Marsha glanced toward the closed door and lowered her voice. “Last week she was in here crying over that lazy, cheating, no-good husband of hers, but today she’s smiling. Do you think she’s killed him and hidden the body? Should I refer her to one of our colleagues in criminal law?”

Daniel gave a flicker of a smile. “Let’s hold the decision on that.”

“Maybe she’s here to tell you she’s taken a lover. That might be the best revenge.”

“Maybe, but it would make the custody battle more complicated so I hope you’re wrong.” Whatever the reason for the sudden visit, Daniel was sure it wasn’t going to be good. “Why do you want to talk about the summer party?”

“Because I’m in charge of it and last year was a fiasco. We used Star Events and I had to deal with an awful woman with a power complex. I can’t remember her name, but I do remember wanting to punch her. Cynthia. Yes, that’s it. Can I use someone different?”

“Use anyone you like. As long as the alcohol flows, I don’t care.”

“There’s this fresh, young company called Urban Genie…”

“Owned by three very smart young women who were previously employed by Star Events. Paige, Frankie and Eva. Good idea. Use them.”

Marsha gaped at him. “Do you know everyone in New York City?”

“Matt Walker designed my roof terrace. He’s Paige’s older brother. And Urban Genie has done a lot to support my sisters’ dog-walking business. Not only that, they’re good. And they were fired by that ‘awful woman,’ which makes this karma.”

“You don’t believe in karma.”

“But you do. Call them.”

“I will.” She crossed it off her list. “Just a couple of things before you talk to Elisa—you’ve been invited by Phoenix Publishing to cocktails at the Met in a couple of weeks. Do I make your excuses?”

“Definitely.”

She crossed that off her list, too. “The interview you gave is published today. Do you want to read it?”

“Will I like what I read?”

“No. They call you a heartbreaker and New York’s most eligible bachelor. They should have interviewed me. I would have told them that no sane woman would date you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So do you want to read the interview?”

“No. Next?”

“Next is Elisa. Oh, and congratulations.”

“On what?”

“The Tanner case. You won.”

“In a contested divorce, there are no winners. Everyone is a loser.”

Marsha studied him. “Is everything all right? Now I think about it you’re later than usual, and you look different.”

“I’m good.” Braced for marital drama, he walked into his office. There were plenty of days when he wondered why he did this job. Today was one of them.

But Elisa Sutton wasn’t crying. Instead she looked animated.

Even Daniel, experienced as he was in handling the emotional roller coaster that accompanied divorce, was surprised.

And suspicious. Was Marsha right? Had she taken a lover?

“Elisa?” Anticipating a confession of a sexual nature, he pushed the door shut. If his client was about to fill his office with her dirty laundry, he intended to contain it. “Has something happened?”

“Yes. We’re back together!”

“Excuse me?” Daniel put his laptop down on his desk, playing catch-up. “Who? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone. We talked about the risks of you getting involved with someone else at this point—”

“It’s not someone else. It’s Henry. We’re back together. Can you believe that?”

No, he couldn’t believe it.

Elisa had cried so many tears over the past few months he’d considered issuing a flood warning for midtown Manhattan.

“Elisa—”

“You’re using your serious lawyer tone. If you’re going to warn me this isn’t a good idea, don’t waste your breath. I’ve made up my mind. At first when he said he was going to change, I didn’t believe him, but after a while I realized he was sincere. We’re making a go of it. He is still my husband, after all.” Tears welled in her eyes and she pressed her hand to her mouth. “I never thought this would happen. I didn’t see it coming. I thought it was over.”

Daniel stilled. He hadn’t seen it coming either. From what he’d observed so far, Elisa and Henry’s marriage was so bad that if they’d been able to bottle the vitriol there would have been enough toxins to poison the whole of New Jersey. And although he’d learned that the blame was usually shared, if not always equally, in this case the lion’s share belonged to Henry, who was the coldest, most selfish man Daniel had ever met.

He’d employed a lawyer who was known to be as savage as a Doberman, and he’d set him on his wife, the woman he had supposedly once loved and with whom he shared two previously happy, but now traumatized children.

Fortunately Daniel had no problem being a Rottweiler when the need arose.

He frowned. Since when did he use dog analogies?

Walking Brutus was clearly getting to him.

“Last week you were in here crying,” he said carefully. “You told me you didn’t care what it took, but you never wanted to see him again.” He kept his tone free from emotion. Clients invariably brought so much emotion into his office he’d learned not to contribute anything extra.

“That was last week when I thought there was no hope for us. He hurt me.”

“And you want this guy back?”

“I really believe he is committed to changing.”

Daniel felt a ripple of exasperation. “Elisa, once they reach a certain age people rarely change, and they certainly don’t do it overnight.” Did he really have to say this stuff? Didn’t people know this? “There’s a phrase about leopards and spots. You’ve probably heard it.” He waited for her to acknowledge this, but she ignored him.

“I’ve already seen the change. On Saturday he turned up at the house with gifts. Thoughtful gifts.” Her eyes were bright. “Do you know Henry has never bought me a proper gift in all the years we’ve been married? He’s a practical guy. I’ve had kitchen equipment and once he bought me a vacuum cleaner, but he has never bought me anything personal or romantic.”

“What did he buy you?”

“He bought me a pair of ballet shoes and tickets to the Bolshoi. They’re touring.”

Ballet shoes? What was she supposed to do with ballet shoes? In his opinion it was Henry who needed to wear the ballet shoes to help him tiptoe over the thin ice he was standing on.

He kept his expression neutral. “And you were pleased with that gift?”

Elisa flushed. “He bought them because I loved the ballet when I was a little girl. When we first met I was still hoping to make it a career, but I grew too tall. I don’t know how he came up with the idea. It was so thoughtful. And he bought me roses. One for every year of our marriage. He took one off for the year we were separated.”

Daniel waited for her to comment on the irony of that, but she said nothing.

“That’s what it took to persuade you to forget the fights and the misery and start again? A pair of ballet shoes you can’t wear and a bunch of roses? Those roses will be dead in a week.” And their marriage in even less time than that.

“He also bought me a ring.”

“A ring? Elisa, two months ago I had to stop you from throwing your current ring into the Hudson River.”

“I know and it was good advice. I had it valued and— well, never mind. That’s history now. Henry told me he’d been doing a lot of thinking and that whatever we had when we first met must still be there. He wants to work at rediscovering it and he gave me another ring as a token of his commitment.”

“Commitment? This from a man who consistently undermined your confidence and then walked out, leaving you with no support?”

“He needed space, that’s all. Our children are at an age when they’re very demanding.”

“Did he tell you that? Because from what you’ve told me he left that part pretty much entirely up to you.”

“And because I was so wrapped up in the children, I didn’t give him the attention he deserved.”

Daniel sat down behind his desk and breathed deeply, banking down the anger. Something was happening to him and he didn’t like it. “They’re children, Elisa, and he is supposed to be the adult. Parenting should be a shared thing. I know you’re scared and I understand that staying together can seem like the easy option, at least in the short term. Unraveling a marriage, particularly when there are children involved, is daunting to say the least. But—”

“Oh, we’re not doing this because it’s the easy option, we’re doing it because of the children.”

“It was because of them you originally wanted a divorce.”

“But children are always better off with two parents, don’t you agree?”

He thought of Harriet, hiding under the table with her eyes squeezed shut and her hands over her ears. “I don’t agree.” He kept his face expressionless. “My personal opinion is that children are better off being raised in a calm, positive environment with one parent than an explosive environment with two.” Damn. Never before had he expressed his personal feelings in front of a client.

“But then you’re a divorce lawyer.” Fortunately Elisa didn’t seem to notice that anything was wrong. “I wouldn’t exactly expect you to be a supporter of reconciliation. You need to justify your billing hours and the more we string this out, the higher your bill.”

Daniel felt a flash of annoyance. “I’m no saint, Elisa, but I can assure you that my advice comes from a desire to do the best for you and the children, not from a need to add hours to my billings. And my advice in this case is don’t do it. You first came to me because your daughter had started wetting the bed and was displaying behavioral problems, and your son’s asthma was getting progressively worse. You were convinced that the atmosphere in the house was responsible.”