by Sophie Gunn
Georgia swatted her friend’s shoulder. “If Dr. Black buys my practice, what would I do?”
“Raise the children!” Nina said.
“You’ll each have half the practice, and share the child rearing,” Lizzie said.
“You’re both insane,” Georgia said. “And that’s not a word I use lightly. Look, I appreciate that you guys tell me the truth the whole truth and blah blah blah, but you guys aren’t like me. I’m different. The man is beautiful and I’m sure he’s very nice—”
“And he smelled like a dream,” Nina sighed.
Georgia set her lips in a thin line. “But I know what I’m doing with Stu.”
“Guess what, Georgie?” Jill flew into the foyer, breathless, her eyes sparkling. “He’s single, he’s childless, and—” She held her hands out for dramatic effect. “He plays the violin!”
Chapter Five
Georgia refused to join the love-fest in the living room for the tall, dark, handsome stranger who everyone seemed to think was a gift from the gods. She knew that her friends weren’t wild about the Stu idea. But she meant what she had said about them all being not her. This was who she was: practical, a brain-before-heart sort of person. They just couldn’t understand that. Artists and romantics and soft-minded dreamers the lot of them! That’s what she got for hanging around with people who had nothing in common with her.
But Stu understood her. That was part of what made them perfect for each other. This last-minute Hail Mary was ridiculous, nothing she or Stu would have ever contemplated.
When Stu arrived fifty six minutes later, Georgia was halfway done her second Bloody Mary.
Stu presented Georgia with a bag of H&H bagels, three kinds of cream cheese, and a half pound of lox. They took it into the kitchen by way of the back hall, giving the living room wide berth.
“Who is that?” Stu asked, craning his neck to see in as Georgia dragged him past.
“Oh. Some guy. A colleague from California. Don’t worry about him.”
So Stu didn’t worry. “Sorry to barge in like this, Georgia. I was having a hard time waiting to see you and then the opportunity to play together for the pageant came along and I so wanted to surprise you.”
“I like that you’re impetuous,” Georgia said. See, he’s not as predictable as he seems, she thought defensively. She tried to keep her eyes off his bright red Christmas sweater which made his pale skin seem almost transparent.
They put the food on the table, but Georgia wasn’t the least bit hungry. “Too many Bloody Marys,” she explained.
“You want to go for a walk?” Stu asked. “It’s so beautiful here. I always forget how gorgeous Galton is.”
“Move back to Galton, then,” Georgia said. “We don’t hold grudges against ingrates who abandon us for big cities.”
“You’d love Manhattan,” Stu said. “Maybe you’ve heard of it? It’s not a half bad place either. Better bagels, that’s for sure.”
“Stu.” She took a deep breath. “I think we should get married.”
He startled, but recovered quickly. “Really? Are you sure?”
“I am. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I think I’ve been an idiot for refusing you all these years.”
He took her hands. “Oh, Georgia! That’s wonderful! Wait!”
He ran out, leaving her in the empty kitchen.
Well, she’d done it. And he’d said yes. Well, sort of yes. He hadn’t actually said the word yes. But he’d meant yes.
She felt light. The kitchen seemed like a cold, unromantic place to be. She put out a hand to brace herself against the cool granite counter. Was it always this pink? When she’d picked the slab of granite—salmon, they’d called it—it had seemed like an inspired choice, sophisticated, yet colorful. Now, all she could think was, Of course he ran away. I proposed in a pink kitchen next to a sink full of dishes after two Bloody Marys.
The front door opened, then a car door. Was he leaving? A wave of relief flooded her. Wait—that wasn’t right.
But before she could think about it, the car door slammed and the front door closed and Stu returned with the small jewelry box that held his grandmother’s ring. He got down on one knee, and opened the box. She tried not to stare at the tiny dime-sized bald spot beginning to form on the top of his head. It was bigger than the ring. “Will you really marry me, Georgie?” he asked.
She smiled. “Will you really marry me, Stu?”
He stood. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Then neither would I.”
She took the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger.
It fit perfectly.
A huge wind shook the house. The lights flickered, then went out. Since it was a gorgeous, sunny, crisp winter morning, the dramatic effect of all this was rather muted until the power went back on a few seconds later and Georgia’s elaborate security system started to wail.
“Oh, heck.” She ran for the foyer to enter the code to shut it down before the police arrived, guns drawn. There wasn’t much crime in Galton, so they tended to milk every opportunity for all the action it was worth.
She was too late. The magic of the moment was lost in the wail of sirens from afar. She opened the door and stared out into the winter day. There had been magic, hadn’t there? Even if it had reeked of garlic bagels and salted fish. Even if she was still in her bathrobe which had a coffee stain on the collar. Even if the counter really was and always had been Pepto-Bismol pink? No time to muse on it now, as a police cruiser was on its way up the drive, siren going, blue and red lights dancing over the week-old snow.
It was Tommy, the chief of police. Georgia expected his usual scolding and fine. Since she lived alone so close to campus, she had an elaborate system that perhaps she kept on a bit of a hair trigger. But Tommy seemed remarkably blasé about the whole affair. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he said, folding his large frame back into his squad car as if he truly didn’t care one way or the other.
Georgia watched him drive away, amazed at his lack of rigor. Tommy was usually an energetic guy. Even if he didn’t fine her, he’d at least have stayed for coffee and bagels.
She shut the door behind him and stood alone in the foyer.
She had to look down at her finger to assure herself that her entire world had indeed just changed.
She was going to marry Stuart Zeppalt and live happily ever after.
Everyone had gathered in the kitchen while Georgia been talking to Tommy. When she joined them, they all clapped, including Dr. Jonah Black. They hugged her and shook Stu’s hand. Lizzie offered champagne all around and everyone said all the right things. In fact, the toasts were really quite lovely.
But Georgia had the sinking feeling that their hearts weren’t in it.
They noshed on the best bagels in the country, but they didn’t taste as good as they usually did. Even the champagne, which was Dom Perignon, tasted a little flat.
After a while, the scene grew awkward, and everyone started to make excuses to leave.
“You don’t have to go,” Georgia assured her friends. “I want you guys to stay.”
“I’m going to leave,” Stu insisted gallantly. “I have to leave music with Susan and Brad and then go see Pastor Rich. I’ll be back Wednesday to practice and celebrate properly.”
But the Enemy Club wouldn’t hear of it.
Georgia fought them, but they were determined. Within the hour, everyone but Stu was gone. The house felt drained and lonely.
She refused to accept defeat. Love was something you had to work at. This was new for her. Of course it would be awkward. Of course she wouldn’t feel exactly right.
Stu was waiting for her in the living room. He was picking up stray kernels of popcorn off the ground with his fingertips and collecting them in his palm.
“So, it’s just you and me,” Stu said when he saw her.
“It is.” She came into his arms and he held her loosely. They were exactly the sam
e height, which was awkward. But his warmth felt good. This was the right thing to do. He was a good man. She was going to start the life she’d always promised herself she’d have. “You want to go upstairs?” she asked.
He smiled. “I’ve been waiting twenty years to hear you ask me that.”
He carefully brushed the stray popcorn kernels into the trash, smoothed his khakis, and followed her up the stairs.
The sex was okay.
Georgia was relieved.
She’d feared for the worst.
But Stu was gentle and kind and he smelled nice—like soap. True, at certain moments, she found herself thinking about all the work she had to do to get ready to move and about that pesky drain that kept clogging in the guest bathroom. But mostly, she enjoyed herself and he seemed to enjoy himself, too. They’d work on it and they’d get better together. She believed what Stu believed—what her fiancé believed—that love could be a slow-building and peaceful thing.
Chapter Six
Stu stayed the night.
The next day, the quartet was supposed to assemble to practice for their new assignment. But at the last minute, Brad called to say he’d come down with the flu.
“Where are we going to find a violinist at this late notice?” Stu asked.
Georgia had an idea. It wasn’t a good one, but what could she do? It was for St. Luke’s, after all.
Dr. Jonah Black said he’d be delighted to fill in. He even had his old student violin in his mother’s attic.
Two hours later, the four string players were assembled in Georgia’s living room.
Susan, the second violinist, had brought Christmas cookies and cider and they raised a toast to the new couple.
“I always forget how welcoming Galton is,” Jonah said. “I’ve been here less than twenty four hours and already I have a chamber group and this is the third time I’ve been offered Christmas cookies. I can’t believe you’re willing to leave this place, Georgia.”
Georgia didn’t want to talk about it. She did have an ache in her stomach whenever she thought about leaving Galton.
They set about learning the new music Stu had brought. It wasn’t hard. In fact, compared to what they usually played it was a cakewalk. Silent Night. Joy to the World. A delightful arrangement from The Nutcracker to play before the show, as the crowd was filing in.
But still, they couldn’t quite get into a groove.
“It’s been too long,” Susan said. “I feel so rusty.”
Jonah said. “I’m playing like an oaf. You must all think I’m hopeless. I don’t know what’s wrong. I feel almost as if I’m getting the flu. I just feel so blah since last night.”
“I feel that way, too!” Susan said. “Maybe it is the flu. Something is going around.”
“We’ll get better,” Stu said. “The beginning is always hard.”
But Georgia wasn’t sure. Not being able to play Joy to the World felt like a bad omen.
Stu left that evening for Manhattan, promising to return on Wednesday.
Georgia met the next day with Jonah to discuss the sale of her practice. The transfer of a psychiatric practice was a delicate affair. Georgia couldn’t discuss her patients’ cases with anyone—even another doctor—without their consent.
But Georgia didn’t want to discuss cases.
She wanted to watch Dr. Black in action.
Of course, a third person in the room would ruin the patient-therapist dynamic, making watching impossible. So she’d arranged to send Jonah in to meet with two of her patients, one-on-one. Then later, she’d discuss how it went with the patient.
Mrs. Chu, the first meeting she’d arranged, was the perfect test for Jonah. She was an astute woman. She’d tell Georgia exactly what she thought of the handsome doctor. Then later in the day, Georgia had scheduled Stanley Fedonov, a crotchety, elderly widow to meet with Jonah. These two patients were complete opposites in temperament, so Georgia felt she’d get a broad spectrum of opinions.
Mrs. Chu arrived promptly at ten. For two years, she and Georgia had been working through the causes of her depression. They were making slow but steady progress.
While Mrs. Chu’s meeting with Jonah was taking place, Georgia started in on baking the sugar cookies which she planned to decorate later with Jill. They were the only two single members of the Enemy Club, so they always made time for each other during the holidays to decorate cookies for the Christmas pageant. Georgia mixed and rolled, trying not to think about the man sitting in her office chair. It felt wrong not to be there, as if she was already a wife in the kitchen, not the working woman she usually identified herself as.
Jonah went past the traditional fifty minutes with Mrs. Chu.
Okay, sometimes, Georgia would give her patients an extra five minutes. Maybe ten.
But now it was fifteen. Very unorthodox.
The first batch of cookies were in the oven. Georgia didn’t know what to do with herself. She wiped down the counters. Dried everything in the dish rack by hand. Then, unable to stop herself, she crept to the door that separated her office from the house.
All she could hear was the low murmur of Mrs. Chu’s voice.
Then, to her alarm, she heard something terrible. Something so truly awful, it chilled her to the bones.
Laughing.
Mrs. Chu never laughed with her.
The hurt was so deep, Georgia had to put out a hand to support herself.
He’s better than me, she thought. I’m terrible. I’m going to be revealed as a huge fraud in Manhattan and here in Galton. They’ll all be glad I’m gone. No wonder I was too scared to leave my home town…
The oven timer went off and she somehow made her way back to the kitchen, trying to shake off her unaccustomed lack of confidence.
Laughter doesn’t mean anything clinical. It just means he’s funny. I’m funny. Okay, I’m not so funny. But psychiatrists don’t need to be funny.
The door that separated the office and the house opened a few minutes later and Jonah came into the kitchen.
Georgia pretended that removing the cookies from their pan took every ounce of her concentration.
“Very interesting hour,” Jonah said, pulling out a stool. “Mind if I join you?”
“Of course not,” she said. All the cookies were off the tray. She started arranging the next batch on the cookie sheet, being careful not to tear the angels’ wings. “So, how’d it go with Mrs. Chu?” she asked, trying to sound noncommittal.
“I don’t think she’s going to come back to see me,” Jonah said.
Was it so wrong to be thrilled? A person who was at that very moment baking Christmas cookies shouldn’t revel in another’s failure. Georgia tried to wipe the smile off her face. “Oh, I’m sorry Jonah.”
“No. Don’t be sorry. What I mean is, she’s cured.” He shrugged.
Georgia dropped the spatula, breaking a lamb cookie in two. “Cured?”
He looked a little bewildered himself. “Such a nice lady. Just had to get a few things straightened out I guess.”
Georgia was speechless. She carried the tray to the oven. Put it in. Finally, after several aborted efforts, she managed a strained, tense, “You cured her depression in an hour.”
“Well, we did go fifteen minutes over time.”
Georgia’s mouth opened. Then closed. He was so calm. Did he always cure patients in one visit, no big deal? All in a day’s work?
“Wish I could tell you more. But patient-doctor confidentiality and all that. I’m sure Mrs. Chu would love to talk to you about it. After all, you have been her doctor for—how long has it been?”
It took every ounce of Georgia’s strength not to lunge at the man. She concentrated on the angels laid out on the counter, waiting for their icing wings. “More than an hour.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Why should you be sorry?” Georgia’s voice came out shrill and too loud, especially in contrast to Jonah’s flat tone.
But Jonah stayed mell
ow. “You’re doubting yourself. You shouldn’t.” He bit off a lamb’s head.
“Shouldn’t I?” she snapped. She took a step back. She couldn’t believe she’d lost her cool at a guest in her home. But she couldn’t stop. In fact, something about his coolness, his lack of passion made her desperate to provoke him.
“You just waltz in here and ‘cure’ a patient in sixty-five minutes whom I’ve been seeing for years! Please! Don’t you think that’s a little ridiculous, Dr. Black?”
“I imagine it happens all the time. New point of view. Fresh eyes and ears. It’s not me. It’s not you. It’s just circumstance.” He shrugged.
Georgia took a deep breath and let it go. The anger drained out of her. She had Stu and was starting a new life. It was ridiculous to be mad about something that was so good: Mrs. Chu, happy and laughing again! What was wrong with Georgia that she wasn’t delighted for a woman she adored?
Then two hours later, Jonah again emerged from her office and told her that Stanley Fedonov wasn’t coming back either.
“Let me guess, you cured him, too?” she asked.
“Well—”
It took all her strength not to burst out in tears.
Jonah blinked at her serenely. “I see that you’re upset,” he said. “But you understand it’s no big deal. Just beginners luck.”
Georgia called Mrs. Chu on the phone the instant Jonah left.
“What did you think of Dr. Black?” she asked. “You don’t have to tell me details, of course. I just want to know what you thought of him professionally.”
Mrs. Chu said. “He was just fine, Dr. P.”
“Just fine?” What kind of response was this for a woman who’d been cured of her depression after years of therapy? Georgia should have known that Jonah was full of crap.
“You know what’s funny?” Mrs. Chu asked. “Usually, by the time I come into your office, I’m so wound up. My mind is going a million miles an hour in a million different directions. But today, I can’t explain it. I don’t think it was Dr. Black, but I just felt calm. Even before I came to see him.”
