On Wednesday, every Hale patient got the same letter.
I got one too.
I'd been a patient there since 1995.
It came on Summit Ridge letterhead, with the gray mountain.
Dear Valued Patient,
We are addressing a temporary disruption caused by a former office manager under police investigation.
Hale Family Dental has only ever had one office manager.
At 4:00, Mrs. Dombrowski's son drove her to my house.
She came up the walk with her letter folded in quarters.
She held it out to me.
"Is this you, honey?"
"It's about me," I said.
"It isn't true."
She nodded once and folded it smaller.
"Where's Dr. Raman going to be?"
"The old bank on Market Street."
"Then that's where my records go."
"You have to ask for them in writing."
"I just need the address."
I wrote it on the back of the letter.
Thursday at 1:00, I met Dr. Raman at the old Harlow Savings building.
The lease sat on a folding table in the empty lobby.
Her landlord wasn't signing it.
"I got a call from Pittsburgh," he said.
"Man says there's a lawsuit."
"Says your contractor's under police investigation."
"I can't sign yet."
Dr. Raman kept her hands flat on the table.
Her chairs were on a truck somewhere in Ohio.
Her toddler's car seat was in the back of the car outside.
The landlord held out a sticky note.
It had Pike's cell number on it.
I called it on speaker.
He answered on the first ring.
"Mrs. Albright."
"My offer stands."
"Sign the Statement, and Count II goes away."
"Her lease, her chairs, her patients."
"You already cost one practice."
"Don't cost two."
I took the Statement of Facts out of my purse.
I unfolded it on the folding table.
I changed practice passwords prior to departure.
Dr. Raman read it upside down.
"Don't do this for me," she said.
But it wasn't only for her.
Gloria had walked away from twenty-four years to work in this lobby.
Nate had already ordered her gloves.
Mrs. Dombrowski had my handwriting on the back of her letter.
One sentence, and all of them got to open on Monday.
I uncapped the pen.
The landlord leaned in.
I thought about 6:12.
I'd been at my kitchen counter, making toast I didn't eat.
Brent had been at my old desk.
I capped the pen.
"If I sign, his 6:12 becomes mine," I said.
"Excuse me?" Pike said.
"No," I said.
I hung up.
The landlord put his sticky note away.
"Then I wait for the court," he said.
"Give me two hours," I said.
At 3:00, I was in his office on Elm Street.
I laid Arlo's log on his desk myself.
I set the yellow receipt photo beside it.
"I signed my keys over at 4:55," I said.
"The passwords changed at 6:12."
"From the front desk computer."
"Under the nephew's login."
He read the line with his finger.
He read it again.
Then he called Pittsburgh back.
It went to voicemail.
He didn't leave a message.
He signed the lease.
Sunday at 9:47 PM, my phone lit up on the nightstand.
Don't make this about me, Mo.
It was Brent.
Only Gloria calls me Mo.
He'd heard it across the breakroom and thought it came with the job.
I didn't answer.
I turned the phone face down.
Monday at 7:30 AM, Raman Family Dentistry opened on Market Street.
Somebody had painted the new name on the glass where the bank's used to be.
Gloria was in the hygiene chair, setting out instruments.
Nate was on the sidewalk unloading glove boxes from his trunk.
Dr. Raman unlocked the door with a single key.
By noon, the fax machine had run out of paper.
They were records requests, all addressed to Hale Family Dental and copied to us.
Mrs. Dombrowski's was the first one.
Her son had typed it.
By Wednesday there were 418.
Wednesday afternoon, I sat in Elaine's office.
The hearing was Thursday at 9:30.
She had the complaint open to paragraph 19.
Defendant changed all practice passwords prior to her departure on October 2.
"Russell swore to this," she said.
"Under penalty."
"Arlo can authenticate the log."
"I can read it into the record."
"You don't have to take the stand at all."
"Kemp will come at you hard."
"He'll say you're bitter."
"He'll say you could've done it from home."
"I know what he'll say," I said.
"Then let me carry it."
I looked at paragraph 19 a long time.
Every line in that complaint had somebody else's words in my mouth.
Pike had typed them.
Russell had sworn to them.
"No."
"I'll say it myself."