Robert stepped past her to the stoop. “Get out of there!”
The dog stopped what he was doing, sat pertly and gave them a heart-tugging look that said, “Sorry. I was just really, really hungry.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” His coat was dirty and matted and he wasn’t wearing a collar. But his eyes were bright and intelligent-looking. Margo checked the alley again. “Where do you suppose he came from?”
“Good question.” Robert stuffed the garbage back into the bag, then shut it tightly into one of the bins. All the while the dog just watched. When they moved back toward the door, he made a quiet crying sound.
Margo’s heart melted. “We can’t leave him out here.”
“Want me to call animal control?”
She hesitated. She wanted to help, but what if the dog was dangerous? No way. Look at those eyes. Nevertheless, he could be carrying some sort of doggy disease. He didn’t look very clean—still she decided to risk it. “Come here, boy.”
He came. When he was within arm’s length he sat and gave her that hopeful look again. Tentatively she reached out. His tail wagged eagerly as she scratched behind his ears.
“Careful,” Robert said. “He could have fleas. Hang on while I check out front. Maybe he belongs to one of the customers.”
Margo withdrew her hand, feeling even worse for the poor fellow than ever. She glanced back at the bistro, knowing Ellie waited inside, and Peter at the hospital would be wondering where she was, as well.
When Robert returned, he was shaking his head. “Tell you what. There’s a doggy wash three blocks over. The owner negotiated a loan with the bank where I used to work. They supply big tubs, towels, even driers. Why don’t I take the dog over there, then buy him some food?”
“That would be wonderful. Tomorrow we can put up signs in the neighborhood and try to find his owner.”
“That leaves one problem. Where will he sleep tonight? Pets aren’t allowed in my building.”
“He could stay in my apartment,” Margo said slowly. “That is, if you…?”
She and Robert exchanged one of those looks again. This time she was certain she was asking too much. But Robert just nodded. “I’ll sleep on the couch and keep an eye on him.”
She hesitated. “That doesn’t sound very comfortable. You should feel free—”
He squeezed her arm. “I’ll be fine. You should get going. Your son needs you.”
ONCE ELLIE HAD SEEN her brother, and been reassured that he really was okay, Tom suggested that Catherine take her to their house.
“Why don’t you go, too?” Margo said. “I’ll spend the night with Peter, then you can return in the morning when we meet with the internist.”
Tom hesitated. “Are you sure? I could stay with Peter, if you wanted to get back to your business.”
Margo hated the fact that she was tempted to accept his offer. Early morning was when she baked the muffins and scones and prepared the daily soup. Not even Em could do those things for her, let alone the weekend staff. Peter would be sleeping most of the night, anyway….
But, no. She just couldn’t leave him.
“I’ll stay. You go home with Ellie and make sure she’s fine.”
Tom nodded. “Okay. That’s the plan. We’ll see you in the morning.”
He gave her a hug, the first one since they’d separated, and Margo found it felt quite natural.
One year ago she’d been so angry at him, but now all she felt was relief. Living with Tom, trying to accommodate his demands, his need for a rigid schedule and a calm, quiet home, had exhausted and demoralized her.
True the divorce had exacted a price from all of them—including the kids. But she was herself again, and getting free from Tom had been necessary to make that happen.
“Call me if anything changes.”
“I will.” She gave Ellie a big hug and kiss. “Everything’s going to be fine, honey. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
To Catherine, she merely nodded and offered a tight smile.
Peter did sleep quite well throughout the night, and so did Margo in the reclining chair next to his bed. In the morning the tests confirmed that they were dealing with diabetes.
Diabetes. It was real and it was happening to them.
“Okay. At least we know what the problem is.” She gave Peter a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand.
“I want Daddy,” he said quietly.
Trying not to feel as if her son had rejected her, Margo dialed Tom on the phone they’d requested last night.
“I’m getting in to the car now,” he assured her.
“Daddy will be here soon,” she told Peter, surprised to realize that she felt as relieved as her son by the news. Tom may not be a part of her life anymore, but it was a comfort to have someone she could depend upon where the children were concerned.
When Tom arrived, she filled him in quickly. “They’re giving him an intravenous solution of electrolytes, water and insulin right now. In a little while we’ll meet with the specialist, then a dietitian and psychologist.”
“So, what will this mean exactly?” Tom betrayed his anxiety by smoothing the hair on the side of his head.
“The doctor I spoke to this morning thought that two injections of insulin each day should be all Peter will need for the first year. After that, they’ll evaluate whether he might be a candidate for an insulin pump or multiple daily injections.”
“Two shots.” Tom’s chest expanded on a deep breath. “I guess we’ll have to learn how to do those.”
Margo nodded.
“Catherine should really be here, too, then.”
Margo wanted to protest, but she knew he was right. Undoubtedly, the task of checking Peter’s blood sugar levels and injecting him with his insulin would often fall to Catherine. She had to be educated, just like they did.
While Tom dialed home, Margo returned to Peter’s bedside. He’d eaten ravenously after the fasting test and now he was watching Saturday morning cartoons like any normal seven-year-old boy.
She decided to slip outside for some fresh air.
On her way she passed the hospital café, remembered she hadn’t eaten anything all night, either, and ordered a coffee and a muffin.
Outside the bright spring sunshine felt like an affront. In Margo’s current emotional state she would have preferred rain. Or at least fog.
She found a bench where she could sit, eat her breakfast and make a few calls. First she dialed the bistro and wasn’t surprised when Robert answered.
“I’ve already taken the dog for a walk. He’s upstairs sleeping in his new dog bed right now.”
Dog bed. She made a note to settle up all the pet expenses with Robert when she got home. “Did the morning staff show up on time?”
“Yes. The only problem is that we’re a little low on muffins and scones. Plus, there doesn’t seem to be any soup-of-the-day.”
Her head spun with his efficiency. “If you check in the freezer, you’ll find a tub of sunshine carrot soup and also dough for blueberry and bran muffins.”
Robert listened as she explained how to thaw the soup and bake the muffins.
“I hate to saddle you with all this.”
“Don’t worry. Things are under control here. You need to keep your focus on your son.”
He was right. But how could a single guy without children be so understanding?
Margo called Nora next. Her friend was full of sympathy when she heard about Peter’s diagnosis. She was also supportive. “You can deal with this, Margo. It’s going to be okay.”
“Thank you. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that right now.”
With Robert and Nora’s words buoying her, Margo left the sunshine to meet with her son’s doctors.
ON SUNDAY AFTERNOON Peter was discharged from the hospital and Margo was both relieved and frightened. She desperately wanted life to return to normal, to have both her children back at home with her and to get operations at the bistro running smoothl
y again. All weekend long she’d been fielding calls from her employees about various problems. Robert had taken care of several. But she couldn’t keep expecting him to help her this way.
Much as she wanted life to go back to the way it had been, Margo also had to accept that such a thing wasn’t possible. Peter’s diabetes was something the entire family had to learn to live with.
In the hospital the nurses had explained the importance of routine in managing Peter’s disease. Treatment required a careful balance between his insulin injections, diet and exercise.
Because she loved cooking, Margo’s children were used to homemade food, not frozen pizzas and packaged granola bars. The dietitian had complimented her on that. But she’d also warned that when Peter ate was almost as important as what he ate.
Tom had given her a dirty look then. One of his biggest complaints during their marriage was that meals were never ready when he wanted them to be ready.
But now she’d have to stick to a strict schedule. And the kids’ habit of snacking on muffins or cookies between meals was something else they’d need to change.
Could she do this? Despite the pamphlets and notes she’d stuffed into Peter’s duffel bag, Margo was a little intimidated. The consequences of failure were huge. If the level of insulin in Peter’s blood rose too high, he could fall into a coma. Conversely, if the levels were too low, he’d end up back where he started from…and she sure didn’t want that.
After Peter was finally discharged, Margo took him out to her car. As she buckled him into the backseat, the silver of his new Medic Alert bracelet sparkled at her, reminding her of all the risks her little boy faced.
“Ready to go get your sister?” she asked him.
He nodded. Though it had only been a few days, he missed Ellie. She’d been staying at Tom’s house all weekend, and Margo had missed her, too.
Right after their wedding Tom and Catherine had moved into a new house in Pacific Heights. Margo followed the instructions Catherine had thoughtfully printed out, along with a hand-drawn map.
Since their consultations with the specialists on Saturday morning, Catherine hadn’t returned to the hospital. She’d spent her weekend with Ellie, leaving Tom free to devote his time, like Margo, to Peter.
Now as she wound her way through the quiet streets with their grandiose homes, Margo tried to prepare herself for what she was about to see. It was difficult not to contrast this elegant, ritzy neighborhood with her own. SOMA had personality and culture, a hodgepodge of art galleries and warehouses, trendy hotels and small businesses. It teemed with life and people, dog lovers and young executives. Margo found it a fascinating place to live.
But she suspected the kids would probably prefer this neighborhood.
She pulled to a stop in front of a restored Victorian, one of the least ostentatious houses on the block. Black urns overflowing with ivy and geraniums sat on either side of the double front door. It felt bizarre to her when Peter raced up the walk-way ahead of her and opened the door without knocking. Before she could say anything, he’d disappeared into the next room calling out, “Catherine. Dad. I’m home!”
The words jolted her like nothing else ever had.
Home.
To her son and daughter this place—so strange to her—was as much a home as the apartment they shared with her.
And it was wonderful. No welcoming touch had been omitted—from the fresh flowers in a vase on a side table, to the brass umbrella stand and coatrack, to the charming rug in the middle of the hall.
The house even smelled like home. Could that be the scent of freshly baking bread in the air? If Catherine was a good cook, too, then she had absolutely nothing on the other woman. No wonder Tom looked so happy these days.
“Mom! I’ve been waiting for you.” Ellie came running from the room that had swallowed Peter. She was wearing clothes that Margo didn’t recognize. Apparently she and Catherine had gone on another shopping trip.
A moment later, Catherine and Tom made an entrance, with Peter between them. Catherine had something wrapped in a tea towel in her hands. “I know you’ve spent the entire weekend in the hospital, so I thought a tray of fresh buns might come in handy.”
“Thank you.” As Margo accepted the gift she suddenly felt light-headed. Maybe it was the crazy weekend, not much sleep, too much worry. Or maybe it was stepping into a Norman Rockwell painting, only to discover you didn’t belong.
Just erase me from the picture and it would be perfect….
No. She couldn’t let herself feel this way. Her apartment might not make a great Christmas card cover, but it was the kids’ home, too.
“Come on, guys.” She put an arm around each of her children. “I think it’s time for this crazy weekend to end.”
“But you promised me a surprise.” It wasn’t like Peter to pout, but he was doing so now. “And I never got one.”
Margo’s stomach dipped as she realized she’d forgotten her promise. Then a sudden thought occurred to her. “Actually, you did. He’s waiting for you at home right now.” She squeezed Ellie’s shoulder. “Waiting for both of you.”
“What?” The kids gave her curious stares.
“It’s a dog. We’re babysitting him for a few days.”
“A dog?” Peter looked at her with Christmas-morning-sized eyes. “Wow.”
“Is this a joke?” Ellie wanted to know.
“I hope so,” Tom muttered.
Margo ignored him. “No joke. We can’t keep him forever, but for now he’s all ours.”
“Wow, a real dog, Mom? Not a stuffed one?”
Margo laughed. “Oh, he’s real all right. Just wait until you see how much he eats.”
As she ushered her children out to the car, Tom followed with Ellie’s duffel bag. “I hope this pet thing really is temporary. You already have a lot on your plate.”
And, obviously, he didn’t think she could handle it. Despite her own reservations, Margo tightened her jaw stubbornly. “We’ll be fine, Tom.” But even as she drove away, she could see him standing on the sidewalk watching after her, shaking his head.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Days Unemployed: 15
ON MONDAY Robert had two job interviews. Both seemed to go well. So well that he didn’t have time to drop by Margo’s for his usual soup and scone. He considered phoning and asking if he could come around later that evening.
But he had a feeling she would be overwhelmed and not welcome the interruption. This was Peter’s first day at school since his diagnosis. Margo had planned a meeting with the teacher and the school vice principal.
Then there was the dog. So far, no one had claimed him. Robert didn’t know if Margo meant to keep him. But her kids had been so excited to come home to the new pet that he knew the pressure to do so would be overwhelming. In some ways the stray dog had been the perfect distraction after their tough weekend.
But Robert had his misgivings about the situation. The dog was a nice animal with a sweet temperament. But Margo’s apartment was tight on space and she didn’t have a backyard. He wasn’t sure a dog was the most sensible pet for her to own. For sure it was going to mean a lot of extra work and extra expense, as well.
And Robert didn’t think Margo had either time or money to spare.
On Tuesday Robert had a meeting with his headhunter, then lunch with a fellow UCLA grad—a contact he hoped would provide a lead for a new position. Unfortunately the lead was a dead end and the lunch wasn’t that great, either.
Besides, Robert missed Margo’s soups. He missed Margo, period. It was strange how quickly he’d grown used to having her in his life. Two weeks ago he hadn’t known Margo Evans existed. Now he couldn’t get through an hour without thinking of her.
Though she’d thanked him over and over for his help this past weekend, to him it was no big deal. Taking care of the dog, lending a hand at the bistro—he’d been glad to do both of those things.
As for sleeping in Margo’s apartment… He’d found that
oddly endearing. Though he hadn’t snooped in drawers or anything crazy like that, he’d felt closer to Margo when he was at her place.
On Wednesday he had a couple more interviews. The last one didn’t end until five but as soon as he was free Robert grabbed the cable car from Montgomery Street to the turnaround point on Davis Street. He walked the rest of the way to Justin Herman Plaza, hoping to grab a quick bite.
Though he’d only lived here a year, he felt at home in this city and wasn’t sorry he’d moved here, even if his relationship with Belinda hadn’t worked out. From a career perspective, relocating to San Francisco certainly made sense. The city had a proud banking history—the mighty Wells Fargo Bank had its origins in this city and Montgomery Street was considered the Wall Street of the West.
He could go far in San Francisco.
As soon as he landed a job.
Robert walked restlessly along the broad expanse of concrete. He stopped to consider the mangled form of the Vaillancourt Fountain. Like a geyser, it shot out a spray of thousands of gallons of water at regular intervals. Standing well back from the wet zone, Robert watched the old fountain perform, then continued on his way.
His way to where?
He had no idea. All of a sudden none of the food on offer in the area had any appeal to him. He wanted soup. He wanted to see Margo.
He took a cab to SOMA and arrived shortly after six. For a change, Sandy and Edward were both on the job. Sandy served him the soup of the day and slipped him an extra scone.
“Are you sure you don’t want to work here?” She rolled her eyes in Edward’s direction. “I sure do miss having you around.”
“Sorry. I love Margo’s soups but not enough to make my career in the food services industry. Speaking of Margo…” He checked around the restaurant to no avail. “Is she here?”
“I think—” Sandy’s response was cut off when the dog from the alley came bounding out of the kitchen. Margo followed, pink-cheeked and holding an empty collar and leash.
“His head just slipped out like his fur had been oiled or something.”
Robert stepped in front of the dog and held out his hand. “Here, boy. Remember me?”
Love And The Single Mom (Singles.... With Kids #1) Page 9
