She sat in her favorite rocking chair and began sorting through the mail. She tossed the ads into the trash, stacked the bills in one pile and correspondence in another. On the bottom she found a letter from the hospital. Confused, she opened the letter and felt the blood drain from her face.
Insurance coverage terminated. Patient responsible for these charges. The statement asked for thirty thousand dollars! That couldn’t be right.
Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she dialed the insurance company and got through the automated voice recording and endless menu before connecting her with a live person.
She took a calming breath, her eyes straying back to the explanation at the bottom of the bill. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she took a breath and held it while she counted to ten. She heard a voice come on the line.
“My name is Alice Anders and I’m calling about a bill I just received for my father’s recent hospital stay. It says his insurance coverage had been terminated?”
“Ma’am, if you could please provide me with your father’s information, I’d be happy to check into this for you.”
Alice gave the woman the required information, hanging up the phone some fifteen minutes later and feeling like her world had just ended. According to the insurance company, her father had been notified in March that as of July first, his current insurance plan would no longer be active and he’d need to choose another plan or have his coverage terminated. Her father had never contacted them, and as promised—or threatened—he no longer had insurance.
The woman Alice had spoken to had offered to email her the documents that needed completing to begin his coverage again, but it wouldn’t start until September first. Too little, and way too late!
Tears burned Alice’s eyes as she went through their options. They didn’t have anywhere close to that kind of money in the bank, and her father’s only income came from training fighters and the small monthly fees the locals paid for gym access. This could cost dad his camp—and that meant he wouldn’t have a reason to get better.
She’d been planning to start her master’s program the next week, but with her father’s second stroke, the university had pushed her start date back until January. The grants and funds she had been awarded had been placed on hold as well. If I get a job, can I even come close to earning this kind of money in four months? She didn’t know.
She was saved from more worry when Marguerite, her friend and neighbor and also their only help at the camp came to find her. “Hey, Alice, the fighter who called the other day—Bryant. He’s shown up. Uninvited!” Marguerite sounded ready to take on the task of getting rid of him. And she could. Built like a bulldog, she somehow managed to make pearls at her neck and lace trim on her plaid shirt work. She also made regular use of the gym and was Alice’s sparring partner. She hung in the doorway, waiting for Alice to give the word.
“What? But Dad’s…” She trailed off as a crazy idea flashed in her brain.
Dad’s ill, but I know how he trains fighters. I could train this guy for a few weeks and then send him on his way. At ten thousand a week, we’d be out of the woods in no time.
The idea was ludicrous, but as she headed into the house, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror. She had always looked a lot like her dad—both of them tall and skinny. She had her dad’s strong bones and more muscle on her than curves. She could work a bikini if she had to but she was just at home in sweats. If I wore a cap and baggy clothes, no one would ever have to know. It’s just Anders training the guy!
She cocked her head to the side and envisioned herself wearing a cap, with her auburn hair tucked up beneath it, and pulled low over her eyes. She’d wear some of her father’s long board shorts or his sweats, that would work for her. She’d tape her hands and flatten out her breasts with her tightest sports bra. She could wear oversize T-shirts and more sweats.
Think of the money!
“Alice, what do you want me to tell him?” Marguerite asked, pausing to watch Alice, a calculating look in her dark eyes. “What are you thinking in that head of yours?”
“Marguerite, I need your help. A bill came in the mail today for Dad’s hospital stay. His insurance cancelled in July and we have to pay it all. I know how to train these guys as well as Dad does. But no one’s going to pay the big bucks unless it’s Anders himself overseeing their conditioning. I’m going to have to be dad for a short time.”
Marguerite shook her head. “This is absurd! Pass yourself off as a man? Alice, please do not do this. There has to be another way.”
Alice shook her head. “If Dad isn’t training fighters, the camp isn’t bringing in anywhere close to enough money to pay his bills. He’s going to lose this place. We’re going to lose him!”
Alice turned back to look in the mirror once more. Marguerite approached her from behind and gathered her hair up and pulled it behind her head. After several seconds of looking at her reflection, Alice met the housekeeper’s eyes in the mirror.
“Thank God your father doesn’t have any wrinkles. I suppose if you lower your voice… and wear some cologne.”
Hope filled Alice’s voice. “And all of those media days he had skipped. There have never been any close up photos of him online! Will you help me? If you treat me like I’m Anders—the Anders—that’s going to help sell it to everyone.” Alice looked at her reflection and quickly realized that even without mascara and eye shadow, she’d have to wear sunglasses most of the time as well. Either that or keep the brim of a hat pulled down lower over her forehead. She judged that her sculpted eyebrows and long lashes would be enough to give away her secret.
Marguerite dropped her hair and stepped away. “May God forgive me for aiding you in this foolishness, but I will help you. For your father. Tell me what you need me to do.”
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