Sweet Fortune

Eric Jerkface gets first place at the science fair?”
    “Nope. He might be mad at the judges, because he knows how smart you are and he'll probably figure you got ripped off if you don't get first place. But he would never be disappointed in you, Elizabeth. No matter what happened. You know that, don't you?”
    “Yeah, I guess so.” Elizabeth relaxed. “Kind of hard on Dad, I guess, having to go through all this dumb school stuff a second time around. You and me being so far apart in age and all.”
    “Don't worry about it, kid,” Jessie said grimly. “This is the first time around for him.”

    At five o'clock that afternoon Jessie opened the office door labeled “Dr. Glenna Ringstead, Ph.D., Clinical Psychology,” and went into the softly lit waiting room. It was empty. Her aunt's secretary, a sober-looking woman with short graying hair, looked up and smiled in recognition.
    “Hello, Jessie. Dr. Ringstead's just finishing up with her last patient of the day. Have a seat.”
    “Thanks, Laura.”
    The inner door opened at that moment and a woman in her late thirties emerged. She was wiping her tear-reddened eyes with a tissue. Jessie discreetly studied a print on the wall. Her aunt's waiting room always made her uneasy. The people one found in it always appeared so terribly depressed.
    The patient went over to Laura and mumbled something about an appointment for the following week, paid her bill, and then left. Glenna Ringstead stepped out of her office a moment later.
    Jessie's Aunt Glenna was Lilian Benedict's sister, but it was easy to forget that fact. The two women were as different as night and day. In many ways Lilian was a lot closer to Vincent Benedict's other ex-wife than she was to her own sister.
    Glenna had been married once. Lloyd Ringstead had been an accountant at Benedict Fasteners who had walked out on his wife and son years ago and never contacted them again. Jessie barely recalled her Uncle Lloyd. Her aunt had never remarried.
    Glenna was an attractive woman in a severe sort of way. She was in her early fifties and she wore her silvered blond hair pinned in a no-nonsense coil that gave her the regal look of an Amazon queen. Her large black-framed glasses were something of a trademark. She had worn them for years. They went well with her trim, tailored beige suits and her air of grave authority.
    “Hello, Jessie.” Glenna smiled her cool, remote, professional smile. “Come on in and sit down. I assume you're not here to consult me in my professional capacity. You haven't asked for advice from me since the day I told you not to try so hard to force a relationship with your father.”
    “Let's see, that was when I was about fifteen years old, wasn't it? Right after Elizabeth was born.” Jessie grinned cheerfully. “Don't take it personally, Aunt Glenna. I haven't taken advice from anyone else since.”
    “The entire family is well aware of that.”
    “I appreciate your taking some time to see me today. I won't keep you long, I promise.” Jessie trailed after her aunt into the inner office and flopped down in a chair next to a table that held a massive box of tissues. She stuck her jeaned legs out in front of her and shoved her hands into her front pockets. Something about Glenna's depressing office triggered all her irreverent impulses.
    “Don't worry about the time, Jessie.”
    “Thanks.” Jessie glanced at the tissues sitting on the table next to her. “I guess your patients must go through a lot of these.”
    “Therapy can bring a lot of deep emotions to the surface,” Glenna pointed out.
    “Yeah, I'll bet. Mrs. Valentine keeps a big box on hand too. Amazing how clients in both of our lines of work tend to cry a lot.” But at least Mrs. V's clients rarely left the office crying, Jessie thought silently.
    “Speaking of your new line of work, how are things going at Valentine Consultations?” Glenna sat down behind the desk and folded her hands in front of her as if preparing to discuss a particularly troublesome form of neurosis.
    “Terrific. I know how someone in your profession must feel about Mrs. Valentine, but I assure you, we're not stealing any business.”
    “I'm not worried about it. People who are going to a psychic are obviously not yet ready to deal with their real problems. I can wait.”
    “Because sooner or later they'll wind up in your office?”
    Glenna nodded. “If they're serious about resolving their inner conflicts, yes. How did the date go