“Thanks,” I said again, looking down at the card. I could feel his eyes roam over me. He was interested. Very interested, and I was flattered. Men who came on strong like this were a yellow light to me, but I tried not to prejudge. I glanced toward Rowan, wondering what his reaction was to Rich’s attention. As best I could tell, he had none.
“Here’s my personal number. Just give me a call.” Rich took back the card from my hand, collected a pen from a pocket inside his suit coat, and scribbled down the number.
When he’d finished, he returned his attention to Rowan. “I heard you’re having car trouble.”
“It’s minor. Triple A will be here any minute.”
“If you need anything—”
“It’s all taken care of,” Rowan said, abruptly cutting him off, his tone not nearly as friendly as it had been at first.
“I’ll leave the two of you, then.” Rich’s eyes connected with mine again, and before he walked away he asked about my mother and her room number, which I shared with him.
He left, and I noticed Rowan studying me, as if to gauge my reaction to the handsome director.
I fingered the business card in my hand. “He’s seems nice.”
“He’s good at his job,” Rowan admitted.
Our coffee had cooled considerably, and so had our conversation. It was then that I realized that I’d learned next to nothing about him, as I had done most of the talking. We’d spent a good portion of that forty-five-minute wait discussing me and my concerns for my children. He had continually refocused the conversation back to me, avoiding any discussion about his background or his life. Disappointment settled over me.
“What were you saying?” I asked Rowan, hoping to pick up the conversation.
He appeared to have lost track also. “It must not have been important.”
I took a drink of my lukewarm coffee and looked up when the receptionist from the front desk approached.
“Triple A just pulled into the parking lot, Doctor.”
Rowan looked up. “Thanks.” Taking his empty coffee cup, he pulled away from the table, stood, and tossed it in the recycling container. “Thanks for waiting with me, Jenna.”
“Sure, no problem.” And then, before I could stop myself, I added, “Maybe we could do this again sometime…you know, have coffee.”
“I’d like that.”
“I would, too.”
I wasn’t entirely sure why I’d made the offer, but I chalked it up to curiosity. Rowan Lancaster was a man with secrets, and I was determined to learn what they were.
CHAPTER 13
Maureen
I shouldn’t have been disappointed when Logan didn’t stop off at the library the way he normally did on Mondays. I thought that he would at least return the latest book he’d borrowed, but if he had, I didn’t see him, and I always saw him.
After the disastrous date on Friday, the weekend had dragged by. I’d spent two miserable days rehashing what had gone wrong.
I blamed Logan.
I blamed myself.
I even went so far as to blame my daughter for her pep talk, which had only confused me. I’d avoided Tori’s texts as long as possible but had finally filled her in on what had happened late Saturday. Jenna had tried to stop by, but I pretended not to be home.
By the time Monday morning rolled around I couldn’t wait to get back to work, if not for any other reason than it gave me the opportunity to crawl out of the dark hole I’d buried myself in since Friday night.
While I’d been stewing and fretting and feeling sorry for myself, Jenna had been persistent and texted me on Sunday, suggesting we meet at the hospital during her dinner break, on my way home from work. It stood to reason that she wanted to know about my date. Or non-date, as it’d turned out.
As soon as I was finished at the library, I headed to the deli down the street and picked up freshly made soup and sandwiches, as neither of us was enamored with hospital cuisine.
Jenna arranged her dinnertime to coincide with my schedule. When I walked out of the building I was met with a blast of torrential rain. Seattle’s typical fall weather had started early this year. The downpour and the gray, dreary skies matched my mood. This was exactly the kind of evening when I enjoyed snuggling up with a good book in my favorite chair in front of the fireplace.
Burying my face in a book was the way I dealt with stress. If I could escape in a novel, then I could forget, or at least pretend to forget, what was going on in my head and my heart. When Peter and I decided to divorce, I reread all of Jane Austen’s published works in record time. I knew almost from the start of our marriage that we weren’t right for each other. To our credit, we’d made a good-faith effort to make it work for Tori’s sake, to the point that we were both miserable. Peter was the one who had the courage to admit we weren’t ever going to be happy together. While it was painful to admit, I had agreed.
Admitting defeat has never come easy for me. I’m one of those people who would have stuck it out to the bitter end. And our marriage would have turned ugly if Peter hadn’t taken the initiative to end it. We parted while we were still able to be friends.
I had tried to escape into a novel on Sunday, but it hadn’t worked. My mind refused to stay on the page. My thoughts repeatedly returned to Logan. After that one date, I was forced to admit that whatever he or I had hoped for in a relationship wasn’t meant to be. Without question we were different, as different as any two people could be.
The disappointment came when I realized how much I liked him. He wasn’t afraid to share his opinions, and I admired his ability to see things in a way that made me think. I enjoyed the sound of his laughter, too. It came from his belly without restraint. It wasn’t loud or obnoxious. Hearing him laugh never failed to make me smile or laugh along with him.
The soup special at the deli was minestrone, which sounded perfect, and I’d bought two bowls, along with turkey sandwiches on thick white cottage bread. The bread, made fresh daily, was my favorite. For the most part I avoided white bread, but not this time. Bread was comfort food at its finest.
I arrived at the hospital cafeteria about five minutes before Jenna, and had our meal set up and ready when she came in. She slipped into the chair across from me and didn’t even bother to look at what I’d brought for dinner. “So?” she said, assuming I knew the question, which of course, I did.
“So,” I repeated slowly, reaching for my sandwich. Holding it in both hands, I shrugged. “It’s not going to work with Logan and me.”
“Red light?”
My first thought was to agree, but a small part of me held out hope, which was uncharacteristic of me. I had all the evidence I needed that it wasn’t in the cards. That didn’t keep me from thinking about him or looking for him, waiting and hoping to see him walk into the library with that sexy swagger of his.
“Yellow,” I murmured, after taking the first bite of my sandwich.
“I take it things didn’t go well on Friday?”
“Not good at all.”
Jenna’s eyebrows shot up. “How can he still be a yellow, then?”
Unsure of how best to explain my feelings, I gave another shrug. In as few words as possible, I gave her the lowlights of the evening. She listened intently, and when I finished, she glared at me.
“What?” I demanded, knowing that look far too well.
“Logan tried to make it right, that’s what,” she reminded me. “Why wouldn’t you give him a second chance?”
“I was upset.” Clearly, Jenna had never had an entire sports bar full of construction workers laughing at her. My pride had been bruised. I was reacting to embarrassment and emotion, which can be a hellish combination with me.
“He did try to apologize, right?”
“Yes, and…well, it appears he is just as willing to see the last of me, too.”
>
“Oh?” Her question was filled with doubt.
She wanted proof, and so I provided it. “Logan has come into the library every Monday for weeks. He didn’t show today.” Saying the words aloud made my heart ache. Despite everything I’d told myself over the weekend about nipping this little romance in the bud, I was devastated not to see him. The entire afternoon it felt as if I was dragging my heart against the floor the way a toddler carries around their favorite blanket.
“Logan will return,” Jenna said with confidence.
“And you know this how?” True, she was my best friend and best friends build each other up, but it was total speculation on Jenna’s part.
“Well, I’ve never met Logan,” she admitted, “but from what you’ve shared about him, I think he’s giving you time to cool your heels. Mark my words, he’ll be back.”
“Doubtful.” I shouldn’t be encouraged by speculation, but I was. Far more than I was willing to let Jenna know.
“Time will tell,” Jenna said, digging into her soup.
Eager to change the subject, I asked, “How was your weekend?”
A twinkle showed in her eyes. It was my turn to give her the arched-brow look.
“I spent a good part of Saturday with my mother.”
“And?” There had to be more.
“And Rowan Lancaster just happened to be at Parkview at the same time.”
“Interesting?” I made it into a question, anticipating she would fill in the blanks.
“Rowan and I had coffee while we waited for Triple A.”
“Triple A?”
“It’s part of the story that I’ll explain later. Don’t distract me.”
“Okay,” I said, and avoided rolling my eyes.
“Rowan and I talked almost nonstop for nearly an hour. He was full of questions about me. Me,” she reiterated. “I can’t remember the last time a man actually took the time to listen and to ask me questions about myself. He asked about Paul and Allie, and his interest was genuine. I can’t tell you how many men I’ve dated who never asked one word about my children, as if they preferred to think of them as invisible,” she continued. “No one I’ve dated before seemed to understand that my kids, whether living at home or not, are an important part of my life.”
I understood what she was saying, and we’d discussed that before. One of the biggest complaints we’d both had when we dated was how men would talk about themselves, without much interest in our lives or in our families. Rowan wanting to learn more about her life had made a huge difference in how Jenna viewed him.
“He spoke very little about himself, which only made me want to know him better.”
“There’s a light in your eyes,” I said, smiling. “I suspect Rowan’s the one who put it there.”
“The problem is…he’s a surgeon.”
“Yellow light.” Jenna routinely avoided dating anyone in the medical field, especially doctors.
“And he works at this hospital.”
“Yellow light again.” I could argue they worked in different departments, but I didn’t think Jenna was interested in my opinion.
“He’s a little mysterious,” she added. “He doesn’t talk about himself much.”
“Another yellow light.”
“But I like him. Rowan has been wonderful with my mother. Caring, gentle, patient. And kind.”
“Green light.”
“It’s getting greener all the time.”
“Did he ask you out again?” If she felt this strongly about him, then he should have read the signs and made his move. It confused me that he hadn’t.
Jenna’s mouth tightened. “No, he didn’t. While we were talking, a business associate of Rowan’s broke into our conversation to introduce himself. Rich Gardner is the CEO and director for Parkview. I’m pretty sure he’s interested in me. He gave me his business card along with his personal phone number.”
Now I was intrigued.
“He’s good-looking, suave, and polished. It felt like he was hitting on me, which is crazy, seeing that I was having coffee with Rowan. Unfortunately, the tow truck arrived, and Rowan had to leave.”
“You haven’t seen or talked to him since?”
“No. I have the feeling Rowan fully expected me to pick up on the less-than-subtle hint from Rich and to go out with him.”
“Well, would you?”
Jenna didn’t pause for more than a second. “Nope. I’ve dated far too many men just like him.”
So Dr. Rowan Lancaster was in my best friend’s sights. The last time I’d seen that light in her eyes was when she’d first started dating Kyle.
“But as it happened, I did hear from Rich.”
“You gave him your number?”
“No. He found it in the paperwork for Mom and reached out to me later that same afternoon. He invited me to attend some business affair.”
“And?”
“I declined, which seemed to come as a shock to him. I don’t think many women turn him down. By most anyone’s standards, he’s a catch. For me, not so much.”
“You realize that will only make him try harder.”
“Probably, but my answer will be the same.”
I silently applauded Jenna. She knew what she wanted in a man, and she wasn’t willing to compromise.
“You’re holding out for Rowan, then?”
“I am,” she admitted. “If for no other reason than I want to know more about him.” The look was back. Jenna wasn’t one to give her heart easily, and it pleased me that she saw something others hadn’t in the mysterious Rowan Lancaster.
“I’m happy for you.” At least one of us had enjoyed the weekend.
“I know nothing turned out the way you wanted with Logan, and I’m sorry. I know how disappointed you are.”
“I’ll get over it soon enough,” I said, downplaying my disappointment. “No biggie. It’s funny about your situation, you know?”
Jenna reached for her sandwich. “What’s funny?” she asked, looking up.
“Life. You’re alone for the first time since Allie was born. Over all the years you were raising your children, you met dozens of single men and not even one caught your eye. You’ve dated far more than I have over the years. Yet you finally found someone who interests you and he works right here at this hospital. Talk about irony.”
“I know. It is strange, isn’t it? I have no clue if Rowan feels anything toward me, so I’m not going to put much stock in it.”
“You’re joking, right?” I asked, laughing. “Come on, Jenna. Clearly Dr. Lancaster has gone out of his way to spend time with you. Do you think that he gives every patient as much time and care as your mother? Of course he’s interested. My guess is he’s looking for some clue from you that you feel the same way. Do you need me to tell him for you?”
“Maureen Zelinski! Don’t you dare. This isn’t junior high.”
I did my best to hide a smile. I should be the last person on earth giving Jenna advice on how to handle a relationship. I was a babe in the woods when it came to men. I didn’t know what I was doing; what happened with Logan was a good indicator of that fact.
* * *
—
By Tuesday, I felt better. I was less distracted and eager to get back to myself and my routine. I felt a strange dichotomy of relief and disappointment when Logan didn’t make a showing again. If I was honest with myself, I wasn’t expecting that he would, and I comforted myself with the fact that it was probably for the best. I slept better Tuesday night than I had since the Friday-night fiasco.
On Wednesday I had my weekly lunch with my daughter. I called Tori early in the morning to suggest we break our pattern and try a different restaurant.
“But I like Maddy’s Café,” she protested.
“We’re in a rut,” I insisted,
feeling a small twinge of guilt for the white lie. The truth was, I was afraid I’d catch a glimpse of Logan at the construction project across the street, and I had no desire for him to see me, either.
“Mom, please. It’s convenient for both of us. If we don’t go there, where would you want to eat?”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. The idea had been half-concocted, and I didn’t have another place in mind. “I was going to leave it up to you to make a suggestion.”
“Fine, I choose Maddy’s. And, Mom, you’re not fooling me. I know why you don’t want to meet at our regular place.”
This was a losing battle. I should have known Tori would see through my flimsy excuse. “Okay, fine, you win.”
This wasn’t what I wanted. I couldn’t prevail in every battle, especially when I was matching wits with my daughter.
As usual, Tori had a table and was already seated by the time I arrived. And wouldn’t you know it, she got one by the window again, directly across from the construction site.
She greeted me sympathetically. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you Friday night.”
I wasn’t comfortable rehashing the details with Tori, especially now, when it demanded all my reserve fortitude not to glance across the street.
I looked up and sighed. “Can we not talk about this?”
“Okay, but just so you know, I am hoping that you do see Logan.”
“Tori, please.”
“The fact you wanted a different meeting spot tells me you aren’t nearly as sure about not seeing him again as you say. Can you honestly tell me that you don’t want anything more to do with him?”
“He and I are done. Now drop it, Tori. I’m serious.”
“So am I. Don’t close yourself off because of one unpleasant evening. He said he was sorry.”
Jenna had told me the same thing, but seeing that Logan had apparently taken me at my word and hadn’t reached out told me it was best to put him behind me and move on.
Window on the Bay Page 10
