A Conflict of Interest. Anna Adams

even then, she could see that—like their mom—Bryony had never been careful enough when she gave her body or her heart.

      Instead of clinging to sanity and each other, the sisters had argued constantly. Bryony wanted the same things that made their mother feel safe, while Maria had never craved security in some guy’s arms.

      As Maria had worked her way through school, Bryony had crashed with her between what she termed “life episodes.” Maria had tried over and over to persuade Bryony she could be healthy and whole without a man. She had taken Maria’s concern for disapproval and often suggested she wasn’t Maria’s personal psychological lab rat.

      In the end, their mother had descended on Maria’s tiny college apartment to referee the fight. The three of them had eventually forged a tentative truce that reminded them they were family, but Maria still believed a woman should only rely on herself. When Bryony had announced she’d rented a friend’s RV and had begun working as a clown at children’s parties, Maria had sincerely congratulated her on following what Bryony said was a “calling.”

      If only her mother and Bryony could see Maria now. They were too kind to enjoy the last laugh, but Maria wouldn’t have blamed them. All those years of preaching caution and respectability. All that sensible life she’d lived.

      A tight sob nearly escaped her throat. Panic. Before she listened to her voice mail, she sent an e-mail to her mother, begging off Thanksgiving dinner. She couldn’t face her family yet. That done, she hit the play button on her answering machine.

      “Dr. Keaton? Vince Dunne, here. You know, I’ve been seeing you to quit smoking? I gotta cancel my appointments.” A female voice spoke in the background. “All of them,” he said, sounding harassed. “Yeah, I told her. My wife taught Griff Butler in second grade.” The female voice added something that sounded like, “Will you shut up.” Maria strained to place the voice of the boxed-potatoes lady from the market. “Okay, okay, I’m hanging up,” Vince said. And he did.

      Maria pulled a legal pad out of the desk drawer and wrote Vince’s name. Next to it, she noted, “All.”

      The next message started. “Dr. Keaton? This is Meg Lacey. I need to reschedule my appointment this week. You don’t have to call me. I’ll call you when I have some available time.”

      She wouldn’t be seeing Meg anymore. She added Meg’s name beneath Vince’s.

      Next.

      “Maria, this is Beth Nikolas.” Maria had treated Beth’s son, Eli, a couple of years ago. They only met now for the occasional tune-up. She started to write his name beneath Meg’s, but Beth went on. “I’m just calling to make sure you’re okay. Call me. Better yet, come by for dinner. And friendship.”

      Maria stopped the machine to lean her forehead on her fist. If only everyone could see she’d meant no harm. And by “everyone,” she did not mean Jake Sloane.

      SATURDAY, MARIA SLEPT LATE, trying to shake the hangover of losing one client after another. Maybe vodka would have helped, or at least some Christmas mulled wine, she thought as she stepped through her front door to find hers was the only house in her modest neighborhood that didn’t sparkle with lights and wire reindeer and giant Santas in snowglobes.

      She wouldn’t mind a portly Santa nodding wisely in her front window, if the budget allowed. She scooped the paper off the sidewalk. Fortunately, it still cost only a quarter.

      Maria started back up the sidewalk as a car veered into her driveway, crunching snow and the sand the county trucks had spewed even onto side roads like hers. She steeled herself. Wasn’t it enough for clients to call the office to fire her?

      A blond woman with a sweet smile and warm eyes waved a gloved hand through her window. Beth Nikolas parked and jumped out.

      “I figured if you weren’t going to call back, I’d better come by,” she said.

      Maria tried to come up with a good story, but gave up and went for the truth. “I thought you might have reconsidered.”

      “I understand. The phones have been busy at work?”

      “You don’t have to be my friend, Beth.”

      “No one believes you seduced Griff Butler, Maria.”

      “A lot of people believe. I don’t have many clients left.”

      Beth crossed the yard and hugged her tight. “I’m positive my son is healthy because of you.”

      “Because he worked to get healthy. And don’t underestimate what you and Aidan do for him.”

      “He had that crush on you, and I never thought for a second that you’d do anything to encourage him.”

      “People mistake gratitude for something more sometimes, when they’re getting better, but it doesn’t mean anything dangerous until someone needs an alternative theory at a murder trial.”

      “I saw you with Jake Sloane on the square after the verdict.”

      Maria’s pulse went into overdrive. She turned toward the front door, concentrating on her paper. “I was still hoping someone would see Griff needed help, and he might have been able to persuade Griff’s aunt and uncle to talk to someone.”

      “You looked half out of your mind, and he seemed concerned for you.”

      Maria ached at the memory of Jake holding her close. How she’d wanted to lean into him. “He suggested I stop worrying about Griff. Want some coffee?”

      “Jake didn’t threaten you with an investigation?”

      Maria’s stomach dropped like a stone as she recalled his words If I wonder, so will the police and the Psychology Review Board. “Is he investigating me?”

      “I don’t know.” Beth took the door and waited as Maria tried to plant one foot in front of the other. “As you mentioned, I’ve heard gossip. People know you treated Eli, so they try to ask Aidan and me about you, but I haven’t heard anything specific about Jake. I didn’t realize you knew him so well.”

      It wasn’t just that she didn’t want even Beth to know she’d been daydreaming about Jake from afar. If it came out that she was treating Leila, she didn’t want anyone to think she’d been unprofessional with the girl’s father.

      “I hardly know Jake at all.”

      “That wasn’t what I thought as I watched you.” Beth shut the door.

      “Do we have to talk about Jake Sloane?” She sighed noisily. “Or Griff? I could use a change of subject.” She’d never make a good actress, but Beth took the hint anyway.

      “Let’s talk about dinner next Saturday. Maybe by then you’ll want to join us. We can watch Eli on the half-pipe Aidan built for him, and you can talk to me while I cook. Then we’ll fight for the best spots in front of the TV while we make the men clean.”

      Maria’s first instinct was to plunge her head into the nearest pile of sand, but if someone in her situation had come to her as a client, she’d have cautioned against wallowing in a safety net of invisibility.

      “Thanks, Beth. I’d like that a lot.” She stood back. “Would you like a—” she glanced down the hall toward the kitchen “—something?”

      Beth chuckled. “I’ve arrived in time. You don’t even know what you have to eat or drink?”

      “It’s been rough. People seem to be lining up on Griff’s side or mine.”

      “For once, I can offer you good advice. Don’t hide out here.” Beth hugged her again and then inched toward the door. “I’m going to skip your generous offer of ‘something.’ I have errands to run and several guests arriving at the lodge tonight to get in some last-minute fishing before the holidays.”

      Maria walked her back onto the small, covered porch. “Thanks for the pep talk. What can I bring