Verity set her coffee cup down, logged into the computer in front of her, and opened the correct programs like Becca had taught her. She made a few calls herself—there weren't that many, as Mathew could only see so many patients in a day. He hung up his phone and said, "I want to show you something before the first client gets here."
She followed him into his office, shaking with excitement, and he crooked his finger at her. Over his shoulder she watched Mathew point out a graph on the screen.
"This is the ticker tape for the stock I bought back in your time. At that point, the stock was twenty cents each. Now…"
"It's over ninety dollars each?"
"Precisely. Our current money is too different from your money. So, I exchanged the silver bars to buy shares like these on the screen. I took a big loss exchanging the value from today's dollars to 1853 dollars, but this stock here more made up for it. Do you believe that I didn't do anything sketchy?"
"I trust you, even if I don't understand." She believed it was a legal transaction and that's all that mattered to her.
Mathew nodded. "You sure? You didn't seem convinced standing outside that seedy bar."
"Yes, I'm sure." She planted a quick kiss on his amazing lips.
The first customer of the day jingled through the front door and Verity winked, leaving him with a teasing smile. Mathew gave her a maudlin grin on her way out.
A younger man with a lanky Great Dane stopped at her desk.
"Good morning. This must be the handsome Duke. How do you do?"
The young man's face turned bright red. "He's good."
"Still on Ninth Ave?"
"Yes."
"Phone number ending in five-three-zero-nine?"
He nodded.
"We just need a weight."
The owner, Brandon, brought Duke over to the floor scale. His rump shimmied against the force of his overactive tail.
"Hundred and forty-two pounds. Big fella. You're all set. Doctor will be right with you."
Duke's large tongue lolled out the side of his mouth. She smiled at the good boy, and Brandon stared at her. Verity's face flushed with his gaze. Could he tell she had intercourse this morning? It had been a long time for her, but never had it ever been so amazing and distracting, and never had it been with someone who cared about her pleasure. Verity updated the dog's weight in his chart, hiding her face behind the screen.
Another customer entered, and the elderly man with a cane shuffled over to their shelves of cat food, lifted a small bag, and brought it to the desk.
"Good day, sir. Is there anything else I can assist you with?"
"What happened to Becca?" he grumbled.
Verity kept her smile shining. Nothing could dampen her spirits. "She's got the day off."
He mumbled at her and checked out with cash. Mathew came out to take the Dane while another customer entered. The phone rang, and she placed them on hold. She checked in the beagle, here for shots, and then answered the phone. Another call came through within seconds. The rest of the day was so busy the time flew by, and before she realized, it was time to close.
"You did fantastic today," Mathew said while he wiped his hands clean on a cloth. "I've never had an assistant that could handle it all by themselves. Don't tell Becca or Kiko or even April, if I ever find her."
She blushed with the compliment. "Thank you, and I promise I won't."
"Here." He handed her a folded stack of bills. "I don't have an official check for you, since you don't have a social security number. Cash okay?"
He was paying her. Did their copulation last night and this morning mean nothing more to him than a business transaction? A crushing weight settled on her chest. She thought she'd made it clear she was only a dancer when Mathew caught her with the drunken bar lout. Anger roared through her, tensing her body. She was not a whore, and him paying for her professional services was equivalent to a slap in the face.
"I don't want your money." She folded her arms, refusing the stack.
"Everyone on my payroll gets paid," he insisted.
She fumed even more. "I didn't do it for money!"
Mathew scratched the back of his head in exasperation. "You put in hours of work here at the clinic and everyone gets paid for working. I'm trying to be fair and not take advantage of you."
So the cash had nothing to do with their repeated intercourse. Why didn't he just say so? She snatched the cash from him and stuffed it into her jeans pocket.
"Thank you." She appreciated him giving her a paid job.
"I've got some work to finish up and then an errand to run. Did you want to wait here or at my place?"
"I'll wait here."
He smiled. "Great. Just give me a few." Mathew went to his office and closed the door. He was beaming with energy, and Verity couldn't help but wonder what kind of errand he had. Her anger swirled away just like the sophisticated toilet water. Quickly, curiosity turned to excitement.
***
MATHEW RECEIVED confirmation over the phone from the transfer agent at the currently named Consolidated Edison to sell the shares of stock. He needed to get the certificates notarized and then place the sell order after they confirmed ownership. Should be a few days at most.
If he paid off his personal debts, then he could take a smaller salary from his clinic, thus boosting the clinic's profitability and keeping the doors open. He calculated he'd even have enough left over after capital gains tax for a down payment on a decent home—with grass and a garage—in a safe neighborhood. Then at twenty-nine-soon-to-be-thirty years old, he'd be ready to enter the dating market in search of a partner, his equal, a woman that made him want to be a better man. He wanted kids, several kids, and he would raise them better than his parents had. A sense of confidence in his ability to do a decent job had sprung up lately.
With Mathew's life on the verge of being fixed, he wanted to celebrate. He stepped out of his office ready to get the document notarized.
"Verity?"
"Hmmm?" She was nose deep into the computer screen. Mathew smiled at her and flutters of butterflies danced in his stomach.
"After I finish the errands, how about a fancy dinner tonight?"
Her face beamed with that innocent wonder. "Fancy sounds fantastic. What should I wear?" Her hands combed through her wild but incredibly soft locks.
"I'll take you out for a dress beforehand. I'm afraid the one you came with wouldn't do."
"I imagine not. I can't wait!"
"I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere." He winked at her and set off for the credit union. His hands gripped the wheel, but the butterflies in his gut wouldn't go away. Every time he thought of Verity—which was almost all the time—the all-consuming, beautiful insects returned.
He reached the credit union, and Mathew showed his driver's license and had the stock certificate notarized in a jiffy. Then he dialed his favorite high-end restaurant that he only ever used when he wanted to impress a woman—which was to say, not often—and made reservations. He checked his watch and calculated the local time in New York City. Inside his car, he made the life-changing call.