The Unseen Enemy Series

Chapter 137

Helen Carrow glanced up as Emma entered her office. Helen blinked at the short hair – Emma had always had the thickest, most gorgeous dark curls – and then she sat back in her chair and braced herself. If Emma was here in person, it was bound to be bad news. It would also involve more work for Helen, she was sure.

Goddammit. I just can’t deal with any of this woman’s drama today.

Emma smiled at Helen, determined to be polite. The woman was a grade-A b***h almost all of the time, to almost everyone, but she was an HR wiz, and she knew the ins and outs of the healthcare system better than anyone. If Emma wanted to have a prayer of successfully navigating the bewildering world of medical insurance, she’d do well to have Helen on her side.

OK, be nice, now. Even if it kills you.

“Hi, Helen,” she said. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

Emma paused. Yeah, I’m fine too, thanks for asking. “Have you got a moment? I’d like to ask for your help with something.”

Helen nodded stiffly. “Of course.”

Emma sat down, looked at Helen’s body language. Closed, tight. As always. She looked at the woman’s face, and she wondered how it would look if Helen produced a genuine smile, one that reached those cold blue eyes. Emma had seen Helen turn up the corners of her mouth, but she’d never seen the woman smile.

Emma reached into her purse. “I got this bill from the hospital yesterday.” She handed it over to Helen. “And I was wondering if it was accurate.”

Helen glanced over the itemized list of services, her face impassive, almost disinterested. “Did you have all these procedures and treatments?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s the issue?” Helen set down the papers on her immaculate desk.

“I’m just wondering if any of them are covered by my insurance here at work.”

Helen raised her almost non-existent eyebrows. “Why would we cover them?”

That stopped Emma. “Well, when I first told Ned about being sick, he told me to take as much time as I needed, and he said I shouldn’t worry about anything… that I have amazing medical insurance here.”

“Doctor Granger was correct.” Helen had worked for Ned Granger for seven years, and she had yet to call him by his first name. “You do have amazing insurance. If you didn’t, I can tell you that this bill would be easily triple what it is.”

Emma stared at her. “But… so… this is the correct amount due?”

Helen shrugged. “I’ll call and ask for you. But I can tell you that for what you’ve received in terms of treatment, five hundred thousand dollars looks conservative to me. That tells me that a large portion of your treatment over the past eight months has indeed been covered, and this is the residual amount.”

“I see.” Emma took a deep breath. “And what about future treatment?”

“What are you still having done?”

“Chemo once a month, for sure. Oral tablets, weekly blood tests. That’s what I know about, but there may be more.”

Helen shrugged again. “Well, your chemo will be covered once every two months, as usual. Your tablets will be partially covered, but not fully. And blood tests are covered up to a certain amount. I can check what it is.”

“Thank you.” Emma forced herself to smile. “I appreciate your help, Helen.”

“It’s my job.”

“Yes, well. Thanks anyway.” Emma got to her feet and headed for the door.

“Your bill?” Helen said.

“Oh, no. That’s a copy,” Emma said. “I have the originals, if you need them.”

“This is fine.”

“OK, thanks. I’ll wait to hear from you then.”

“Uh-huh. Bye.”

Emma made her way through the office, warmly greeting her former colleagues and a few of her former patients. She desperately missed working for the mental health clinic, and she was hoping to come back to work in about six months. She and Dean had talked about her slowly taking on a few hours a week – maybe twelve – and working her way back up to a full-time schedule in about a year.

But if she was really on the hook for half-a-million dollars, with more to come, then she’d definitely have to rethink things. She may have to get back to work sooner, start earning again. She’d been living off her savings since she’d gotten too sick to work, and she was still OK. Not great, but fine. Enough for her mortgage and food, and that was the extent of her needs, really.

But f**k me. If I have to find several hundreds of thousands of dollars, I’d better get my ass back here ASAP.