Blind Spot by Nancy Bush

then forgot the idea in the next moment.
    But here it was….
    She didn’t have a knife in her office. Carefully she ran her index finger down the edge of the cake, encountering the raspberry filling between the two layers. Heyward couldn’t have done this on his own. She would bet he’d told his grandfather what she liked, and Heyward Senior sent it to her. The card read, “Wanted to get you your favorite.” It was Heyward III’s writing, but she could visualize his grandfather hovering over him. They wouldn’t trust him with a pen.
    A bribe, in its way.
    She thought back on the meeting. Had she done enough to make herself heard? It was a moot point; they would do as they liked. They had before. They would again. But this time she’d really wanted to take a strong stand. No hedging. No trying to keep everybody happy. That hadn’t worked. Spectacularly hadn’t worked.
    Carefully she carried the cake to the vending machine room. There was a small counter with a sink and a few haphazard chairs. Not really much of a meeting place, but then it was for the medical office staff only. She placed the cake on the counter and washed her frosting-covered finger in the sink. Gazing at the cake for a long moment, she felt her stomach growl.
    Tightening her lips, she backed out of the room and headed back to her office for her purse and some change. She returned a few moments later and plunked coins into the vending machine, slamming a palm against a button for peanut M&M’s. Protein. And sugar. If she had a multivitamin it would be a complete meal.
    She hoped somebody would enjoy the cake. It just wasn’t going to be her.
     
    Cat was sitting in the other chair as Gibby claimed his, one eye on the lookout for Maribel, but she wasn’t around. Gibby scooted his chair closer to hers and was amazed when she said, clear as a bell, “I need to get out of here.”
    “Out of the morning room?”
    “Yes. And out the door.” She leaned toward the front of the building, past the desk and the sofas where Big Jenny liked to sit, though Darlene always told her she couldn’t sit there, and to the big glass windows that slid back and forth if you knew what numbers to push. Gibby didn’t know the numbers. He didn’t want to know the numbers. You had to have a square thing, too, or get the lady at the big desk to let you out.
    “I’m scared out there,” he admitted, though it was hard. He wanted the blond lady to like him. “Your name is Cat…like cats…and dogs…?”
    “Help me.”
    “Okay.” She wasn’t looking at him, but she was talking to him. To Gibby. Kinda made him scared, though, ’cause she was asking him to do something. He didn’t know what, but he didn’t think they’d like it.
    Gibby glanced around the room. His hands gripped the sides of his chair. Oh! There was Maribel. She was coming his way! “Go ’way,” he told her.
    She strolled toward Cat, swiping at him. Gibby bared his teeth and made a face. Maribel stopped in front of Cat and stared at her. Maribel did that all the time.
    “She has Zimer’s disease,” Gibby said. “Get outta here.” He flapped his hand at her but Maribel just stared and stared. Cat stared back.
    Donald strolled over. “Maribel, is there a problem?”
    Gibby threw him a dark look. Donald always acted so smart all the time it made Gibby uncomfortable. Now he wanted to get up and go get Greg, but he wasn’t around. Darlene was there, but he never wanted her. “Go ’way!” he hissed again at Maribel, stomping his foot at her.
    “Fuck you,” Maribel said.
    “Oh, no,” Donald said, sliding away.
    Gibby slapped his hands over his ears. She said that word. She said it to Cat ! “Noooo!” Gibby wailed. “You’re mean! You’re not nice!”
    “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on,” Cat replied.
    Gibby’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped. “Wha’d you…wha’d you…”
    “Everything okay here?” It was Greg. Finally. And he was looking from Maribel to Gibby to