The lobby had a full-height window, which looked straight into the room that was used for small procedures like this. Tinted, so that the activity behind it didn’t distract the doctors from their work, it gave an opportunity to observe. Rick sent up a private thank-you to Cody, realizing just how much he wanted Fleur to know that he was there, watching over her.
“I won’t pass out.”
“Right, then. Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it. But good luck.” Rick squeezed her hand, and watched Fleur walk away from him.
* * *
It was natural to be a little concerned. Anyone in their right mind would feel a degree of tension when they saw someone they cared about surrounded by the high-tech equipment of the small surgeries room. Fleur was made comfortable on a couch, her arm stretched out to one side. Cody sat beside her on a stool, injecting the local anesthetic and preparing the area around the ganglion cyst carefully.
Then he switched on the screen above his head. The delicate arthroscopic surgery he was about to perform involved inserting a tiny camera via a small incision, and using it to guide the instruments he was using to remove the cyst.
Rick looked anxiously at Fleur, trying to see any signs that she might be under stress. But she was smiling at the nurse who sat on her other side, looking at her and not what Cody was doing. He knew that if she became distressed, it was this nurse who would calm her.
As luck would have it, the screen was tilted away from Fleur, in a position where it was visible from where he was standing. Rick winced as the incision was made but Fleur didn’t bat an eyelid. She couldn’t see or feel what was happening.
Carefully, Cody began to excise the cyst and then the stalk below it. It was precise work as the stalk was surrounded by nerves and blood vessels, but Cody didn’t falter. His concentration was absolute and the cyst and stalk came out in one piece.
It was the work of just a few minutes. Cody glanced up, and the nurse spoke to Fleur, obviously telling her that the cyst had been successfully removed because Fleur nodded and smiled. Cody stitched the small wound on her wrist carefully, and applied a dressing. A slim support was then strapped around her wrist to keep it immobile and allow healing.
Rick let out a breath. That hadn’t been too bad.
Cody exchanged a few words with Fleur and she smiled again. Then he left the operating theater, walking straight past Rick and then stopping as if he’d only just remembered that he was there.
“Very satisfactory. I don’t think that Fleur will be having any more trouble, and there will only be a small scar.”
“Thank you, Cody. I appreciate it.”
Cody nodded and went on his way again and Rick watched as the nurse helped Fleur up from the operating table. She inspected the support on her wrist and the nurse shepherded her out of the operating theater, disappearing when she saw Rick.
“There. All done.” She smiled up at him, and Rick resisted the temptation to hug her there and then. “Did you see it all?”
“Yes. Cody made a very fine job of it.”
“Of course he did. I thought you might like to make sure, though.”
“So it was you who turned the monitor around, was it?”
“I only moved it an inch. Before Cody arrived and when the nurse wasn’t looking.”
“That’s sophisticated medical equipment, you know. You’re not supposed to touch it.” The melting look in her eyes didn’t allow him to chide her anymore, even if it was just a joke. “Thank you.”
“So... Dad’ll be here in half an hour to take me home. We’ve got time to go and get some dessert if you wanted. I didn’t have any beforehand, in case it made me feel sick.”
Rick frowned. “A local anesthetic shouldn’t make you feel sick.”
She hugged him. “Maybe I was just a bit nervous. And I might have been very happy about knowing you were there for me.”
Rick chuckled, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Dessert it is, then. The biggest one I can find.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ELLIE WAS STAYING with Lara’s parents in Boston for the weekend. Rick had called ahead to let them know that he’d be in town with a friend, and James and Elise had said they’d like to meet her. Fleur had been so nervous that Rick had practically had to prise her out of the car when he’d dropped Ellie off. It hadn’t been easy for any of them, but James and Elise had been welcoming. They’d always treated him as the son they’d never had, and this felt almost as if he were bringing someone home to meet the mother and father that he’d never really had.
Then it was down to the business part of the weekend. Fleur had insisted that he shouldn’t see the venue until tonight, and she’d driven there alone to check that everything was just as she wanted it, leaving Rick to book them into their hotel for the night. The plush, high-rise room was his treat, and it afforded a view of the sea. Maple Island was somewhere out there in the mist, but tonight was all about the glittering lights of Boston.
He’d been pleased to find that his evening suit still fitted, and that he could still manage a passable bow-tie. Rick was sitting downstairs in the bar, savoring a soda and lime on the rocks. In his experience, it wasn’t a bad idea to pace himself while waiting for a woman to get dressed.
Yet again, Fleur pulled the rug out from under his feet. Barely twenty minutes after he’d left her, wrapped up in one of the hotel’s snowy white robes, she appeared. The overall effect was much the same as if an angel had just made a forced landing in the doorway.
She wore red. A bright, look at me color that complemented the cascade of dark hair down her back. The sleeveless, slimline dress shimmered and sparkled as she walked, revealing a knee-high split that gave a tantalizing view of her calves. Long black gloves concealed the healing wound on her wrist, and a necklace of twisted black and silver beads matched the heavy bracelets she wore over her gloves.
Rick gulped a mouthful from his glass, his mouth suddenly dry. Fleur shimmied across the room, turning more than a few heads as she came, and ignoring them completely. Her gaze was fixed steadily on him.
And she was smiling. Her smile outshone everything else about her.
Rick sprang to his feet, and she put her hand in his, allowing him to help her onto one of the high bar stools. His head was swimming.
“You’re putting me in a dangerous place.” He leaned toward her. “There isn’t a man in this bar who’ll let me leave with you without a fight.”
She was obviously pleased with the compliment. “You can take them, Rick. Don’t you have a pistol in your pocket?”
He chuckled. “No, I’m just glad to see you. Would you like a drink?”
“I’ll have some of yours...” She reached forward, taking his glass, her lips leaving a bright red mark on the rim. “You’re on the wagon?”
“I’m far too befuddled by you to be anything else.”
She laid her gloved hand on his cheek, urgently tapping her fingers. “Better come to your senses soon. We have work to do tonight.”
“Impossible, Fleur. You look ravishing.”
She slid down from her stool, reaching out to adjust his bow-tie. “You can ravish me later. First we’re going to make some money.”
* * *
Rick could tell she was nervous. She’d worked hard for this evening, throwing it together in such a short space of time. This morning, as they’d sailed into Boston on the ferry, she’d added him to the social media group, which was going to tell everyone where the event would take place. Over five hundred members were already speculating about what it might be and where, fueled by carefully placed messages from Fleur that gave the impression of an off-the-cuff gathering.
If everyone turned up, it was going to be amazing. If everyone stayed, and pulled out their wallets, it would be nothing short of a miracle. But he’d seen Fleur work miracles already, and now that she knew
she could succeed, each new thing that she turned her hand to seemed bound to turn out well. He was so proud of her. Maple Island couldn’t contain her now, and, despite his own feeling of loss, he wouldn’t want it to.
She directed their taxi to a large, low building, which showed no sign of life and every indication of dilapidation. To one side, a brightly lit parking area was surrounded by a high, chain-link fence, and as the taxi approached two men swung a gate open to allow them entry.
“We’ve got security.” Fleur gestured to the group of uniformed men in the car park. “I didn’t want to frighten our guests away.”
Rick nodded. A little taste of the unknown was all very well, but the reassurance of a safe and secure environment was also needed.
“What the heck...?” The taxi driver gazed at the line of metal fire bins leading to the building. Graffiti signs marked out the entrance, which was guarded by another two men.
“We’re having a party.” Fleur got out of the taxi, taking a couple of notes from her clutch bag and proffering them. “A fundraiser...”
“Well, that’s a new one on me. Good luck with it, lady.” The car reversed, speeding back out of the gates and on to the next fare.
Inside, the cavernous space was pretty much untouched. An abandoned warehouse, with more fire bins dotted around to add to the air of dilapidation. There was a trestle table to one side, with different-sized jars serving as glasses. Rick noticed that the jars were spotlessly clean, and that the labels on the drinks bottles betrayed them to be quality wines and spirits. Clearly the illusion only went so far.
The Bradys had been called in to help and a dozen red-haired cousins were busying themselves, setting out a hotchpotch of trays with what looked like dishes of caviar and probably was. Fiona and Tom Brady’s four kids had obviously been encouraged in their idiosyncratic dress styles, and Rick saw baseball jackets and biker boots teamed with pink tutus and pinstriped trousers, along with various unlikely hats.
“What’s that for?” The far wall had been whitewashed, and a long stepladder stood at either end.
“Wait and see.” Fleur grinned mysteriously, surveying the scene in front of her. “I think this is going to do...”
“Fleur... Okay for the lights?” A young man clad in jeans and a tattered rock-band T-shirt hurried toward her. It was impossible to tell whether this was a costume or what he usually wore.
“Yes, let’s do it.” Fleur was obviously in her element here, creating a backdrop that implied surprise and excitement. Rick’s own simmering exhilaration was tempered by the thought that this was her world and not his.
A shout went up, telling everyone to stand still for a moment. The space was suddenly plunged into an eerie, silent darkness, before a switch was thrown and spotlights flashed on. The peeling paint, the high metal beams above their heads and the cracked and grimy windows suddenly flashed into sharp focus.
“Whoa! Way to go...” One of the Brady boys voiced Rick’s amazement. Just as she had in the library, Fleur had created a tangible atmosphere, using just light and shadow.
Fleur nodded, smiling at the young man in the T-shirt. “That’s great, Brandon. Just as I imagined it. Better... Are we going to light the centerpiece?”
“We thought we’d give you the honor.” Brandon handed her a long taper and a box of matches. She grinned at him, taking Rick’s hand and leading him over to a fire pit, surrounded by a barrier of breeze blocks to keep it safely under control.
“Help me...” She whispered into Rick’s ear, and he helped her up onto one of the breeze blocks, holding her arm to keep her steady as she straightened. Then she called at the top of her voice.
“Everyone... Everyone, thank you. You all know what this evening means, and that we’re raising money to change lives. Thank you all for giving your time and your talents. You’re all heroes.”
Rick lit the taper and handed it up to her. She held it to a fuse, which fizzed for a moment and then the middle of the pile began to flicker with flame. A chorus of whoops and whistles emanated from a group of men and women in one corner, and spread around the space. Fleur climbed carefully back down again, straight into Rick’s arms, and he felt her body trembling against his.
“Now all we need is the people...” Her voice was suddenly strained and small. Rick hugged her tight.
“They’ll come. Mark my words.”
* * *
Rick was right. As always, he’d been there for her when she’d needed him most, and he’d been right. When the first of the guests arrived, the dance troupe swung into action. Jugglers and dancers, strolling amongst the long dresses and pristine suits of the guests. A magician, dressed in a battered top hat and tails, with no shirt underneath, just braces and a pair of jeans with hobnail boots. The costumes looked as if they’d been scavenged from dumpsters, but in fact they were part of the dance company’s extensive wardrobe.
Pamela arrived on her husband’s arm, looking glamorous in a black dress, with long gloves and diamonds flashing at her neck. She chivvied a large group of partygoers over to the drinks table, accepting a jam jar as if it were a lead crystal glass.
“Pam’s come through for me. She’s brought the whole Vandenberg clan, from the looks of it...” Fleur waved to her, hanging onto Rick’s arm.
“They’re all Pamela’s family?” Rick was eyeing them with surprise.
“Yes, I told you that Pam could do the society diva thing when she wanted to. The Vandenbergs are one of the biggest families in Boston. And the richest.” Fleur looked around, checking that everything was going as planned. “I think we need to get the graffiti going.”
“Whatever you say, darling.” Rick caught her hand, kissing it, and Fleur laughed. He could out-charm everyone in the place.
Fleur waved to the two graffiti artists, giving the signal to get started. Jamie climbed a step ladder, starting at the top of the whitewashed wall, and Sara went to the far end, starting at the bottom by spraying her own signature, surrounded by brightly colored flowers. People started to gravitate toward them, curious to see what they were doing, and Sara began to chat to them, asking for their names and shouting them up to Jamie.
Jamie was painfully shy, and didn’t talk much, but he was an artist with a spray can. Stylized initials with designs around them started to fill the wall, and the top hat next to the paint cans on the trestle table started to fill up with money.
“Where did you find these two? They’re very good.” Rick was watching the young artists work with obvious approval.
“Jamie was in a car accident a few years ago and fractured his wrist. It didn’t heal properly and Alex and Cody took him on as one of the clinic’s first free patients. The corrective surgery that Cody performed allowed him to paint again. Sara’s his sister.”
Rick nodded. “So they’re giving something back tonight. That’s really nice.”
“Yes, it is.” Fleur looked around, shivering in tremulous hope. “You think things are going well?”
He leaned over, kissing her. “Open your eyes, darling. Things are going a lot better than well.”
Rick left her alone for a moment, catching Sara’s attention and dropping a bill into the top hat. Their names were shouted up to Jamie, who turned for a second, shooting Fleur a shy smile. Then he sprayed hers and Rick’s initials, entwined together as if even their names knew how to make love.
“Thank you, Rick.” This was better than a red rose or an expensive corsage. Fleur looked at the initials, feeling a thrill of excitement.
“Everyone loves to see their names up on a wall...” Rick smiled down at her, his lips brushing her cheek.
“So romantic!” A woman in an evening dress, who was standing right next to them, caught her partner’s arm. “Don’t you think it would be lovely, Brad, on the wall in your study?”
“Yeah. It’s something different. None of our friends have anything like
it.”
Fleur took a deep breath. Nothing ventured... “We can do that for you if you’re really interested.”
Brad nodded. “Yeah, I am. Something original for Sylvie and me.”
Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner? For a moment Fleur regretted making the offer, when she wasn’t sure that she could fulfil it. But Rick leaned over, whispering that he was sure that one of the bags he’d loaded into his car this morning had marker pens and card in it. Hadn’t she brought it over here with everything else this afternoon?
Of course. Rick turned to chat with Brad and Sylvie, and Fleur went to get the pens and card. By the time she returned, he’d coaxed Jamie down from the ladder, and Sara had taken over his position. A chair had been fetched for Jamie, and he was sitting at the trestle table, grinning shyly, clearly having been instructed not to move.
Rick drew her to one side. “I’ll call the names up to Sara. You deal with Jamie. There are a few more people interested in having him create something they can take away with them tonight.”
“Okay. How much do you think? Or do we just let them put something into the hat?”
He whispered the price, and Fleur yelped in surprise.
“That much?”
“Jamie’s got a lot of talent and these are unique artworks. It’s a great investment. I said it would be extra for a signature.”
“Are you sure about this, Rick?”
“Yeah, a signed piece is always more valuable. And, look, there are a few people who seem to agree with me.”
Rick had a point. A queue was forming and Brad already had his checkbook out.
“Okay. Nothing ventured, I suppose...”
* * *
An hour and a half of relentless smiling, which turned out to be harder work than Rick had thought it might be. He’d had to help Sara move the stepladder more than once, so that she could fill the top half of the wall, and the pile of card at Jamie’s side was diminishing nicely. The top hat was overflowing with cash and checks.
Resisting Her English Doc Page 15
