“I don’t know, but I’d love to be there opening night. When does it start?”
“Next month.”
“August? Isn’t that unusual?”
“It’s rare. Most shows open during the fall. We’re hoping that being one of the few new shows next month will translate into a strong box office showing. What about you? Ready to open for business?”
“I already have a few clients. The office will open in two to three weeks, depending on how quickly I can hire an assistant. Mom worked with an interior designer friend to create the type of environment I want—professional and relaxing at the same time. It’ll be finished by the time I get back in town.”
“From here?”
“No, from Chicago. I fly there for a conference that begins on Wednesday.”
“Office up and running, clients on the schedule. Sounds like the transition from intern to private practice was easy.”
“There were challenges.”
“Obviously none you couldn’t handle.”
He smiled, swiped the tip of her nose. “What’s your point?”
“The point is that you can make opening night, maybe even bring some of your family along. It’s going to be a great show. The Rapunzel fairy tale has been done before, but never like this.”
“With Rapunzel rapping her lines? I think not. Bet those DJs in the ’70s talking over beats had no idea what a revolution in music they were creating, a style that would end up on Broadway and take over the music world.”
“The genre has definitely outlasted its critics. The show involves hip-hop, jazz, even country. It will appeal to a wide audience, which is why I think the chances of A Hair’s Tale succeeding on Broadway are very good. It’s a limited run right now. Only sixteen weeks. But if it remains as popular as it is now, the show can get extended indefinitely. Have an unbelievable run, like The Lion King, Phantom and Cats. As long as it’s on Broadway, I want to be playing my role!”
“You’re dramatic.” A caress suggested it was a part of her that he enjoyed. “I’ll tell them about it, see if they want to join me.”
Nicki turned, her gaze loving as she took a finger and outlined Julian’s thick brows, his aquiline nose and Cupid’s bow lips. “Thank you, Doctor,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome, my private dancer,” he cooed, brushing his hand across her long, silky tresses before pulling her into his arms, kissing her deeply and silently vowing to find a way to permanently shorten the distance between them.
Julian Drake, PsyD. A bit pretentious, Julian thought as he stopped and observed the gold-and-platinum name plaque on the door of his practice. His mother had purchased and mounted it as a welcome-home surprise, along with the office suite they’d given him for earning his psychology doctorate earlier than most and breezing through an eighteen-month internship with ease.
He appreciated the gesture, even though the nameplate wasn’t his style at all. A plain black plastic slider with white lettering would have been fine with him, and the office suite had a few more rooms than he needed. Especially now while just getting started. His parents, Ike and Jennifer, were understandably proud, and ecstatic that he’d decided to open his practice in Paradise Cove instead of on the East Coast as Nicki had wanted. That she hadn’t joined him was a disappointment for his family and devastating for him. His family loved Nicki. Her tomboyish ways with his brothers helped her fit right in, and her knack for style with a bohemian edge, along with being a professional dancer, made for a lot in common with his sisters. Jennifer had even approached Nicki with the idea of periodic dance workshops at the Drake Community Center. As much as he’d wanted it, Julian knew the chances of Nicki relocating with him was a long shot. After she got a major role in a Broadway show, he knew there was no shot at all. The entertainment world was all abuzz about the talented young writer who’d created the show and the composer who’d scored the work. His sister had even heard about it. When Julian told London about Nicki’s invitation, she’d excitedly asked to join him, but the preview shows were sold out.
Julian was eager to get his practice up and running. The busier he was, the less time he’d have to think about how much he missed Nicki.
His cell phone vibrated. Had he thought her up? Retrieving it from his jacket pocket, he unlocked the door while answering the call.
“Dr. Drake.” He hit the speaker button and continued through the reception area to the spacious corner office he occupied.
“Yes, Doctor. This is Natalie Moore from Superior Staffing. You left a message with our service last night requesting a call.”
Julian immediately recognized the voice. “Natalie as in the Nat Pack?”
A short pause and then, “Do I know you?”
“Yes, you do. It’s Julian.”
“The Julian Drake I picked on all through grade school?”
“I think it lasted through junior high, and yes, it’s me.”
“No way! And you’re a doctor now? Not surprising, since you left all your classmates behind in the dust. You skipped, what, one or two years?”
“More like doubled up on some and tested out of others. They didn’t really skip me.”
“However it happened, you graduated at sixteen. You’d already been gone a couple months when I found out. I can’t believe you remember me.”
“Didn’t at first. Your married name threw me. But I’ll never forget that high-pitched voice.”
“And I’ll never forget you had no voice at all. Always so quiet. And I’m divorced, by the way. Would have reverted to Johnson, but I have a son. The boy genius Julian, a doctor. That fits you. Will you be working at the urgent-care center that just opened up?”
“I’m a psychologist, not a medical doctor. I’m opening a private practice.”
Another pause, this one a bit longer. “Come to give my dad some competition, huh? He’s the go-to shrink in this town. Has treated patients here for over thirty years. So good luck with that.”
“I have no desire to compete with Dr. Johnson or anyone else. Mental illnesses and behavioral disorders have steadily increased through the years that he’s practiced and are still on the rise, which means, unfortunately, there are likely to be enough clients for both of us.”
“That’s what a couple other doctors thought. One still has an office here, though I heard she teaches at a community college to supplement her income. Guess the one or two people who slipped past my father weren’t enough for her to pay the bills.”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
“You’re welcome.”
Julian pondered Natalie’s words as he gazed out the window. It was a beautiful day. During the festivities in Louisiana, the mercury had climbed to ninety degrees and above. Too hot for Julian, even for July. Or any other month. He much preferred the seventies experienced during Northern California summers. The office’s location on the building’s fifteenth floor offered unobstructed views of the town’s tony square and the sprawling fields and ranches of Paradise Valley beyond it. His brother Warren owned one of those ranches. He thought how good a horse ride would feel but knew that with the work ahead of him, today wouldn’t be when he got to do it.
“Where’d