by Patt Marr
Noah opened the door to the lobby and called, “Matthew Allen Scott?”
Through the receptionist’s window Beth saw a willowy redhead in her midthirties stand and take the arm of a sad-faced little boy and guide him to the inner office, though the woman’s eyes were on Noah.
“Your eyes are the color of freshly brewed coffee,” the woman said to Noah, breathlessly.
Vanessa joined them just in time to hear that. The comical way she glanced at the woman and back to Beth was Beth’s undoing. Even suppressed, a giggle escaped, which, unfortunately, sounded like a piggy snort. That tickled Beth even more and set Vanessa off into full-fledged, silent laughter—the worst kind to control. Trying to maintain her dignity, Beth ended up coughing.
Noah rolled his eyes and handed her a wad of tissues.
“Are you okay?” the woman asked solicitously.
“Never better,” Beth said, struggling to gain a professional demeanor.
“Would you step up on the scale for me, Matthew?” Noah asked, so gentle that Beth’s heart turned over. It got to her every time a man was sweet to a kid.
Listlessly, the child followed Noah’s instructions.
“You come very highly recommended, Dr. Brennan,” the woman said to Noah, flirting outrageously. “My neighbor, Dr. Collin Brennan, says his cousin is a brilliant pediatrician.”
Noah’s long-suffering sigh made Beth clasp her hand over her mouth. She would not laugh again. Vanessa moved out of sight to keep out of trouble.
“He told you that, did he?” Noah said straight-faced.
“Yes, and he says you’re single. I am, too, at the moment.”
Beth couldn’t wait to see how Noah would handle this.
“Collin was right about his cousin being a brilliant pediatrician,” he said calmly, “but the doctor is sitting over there.” He pointed to Beth. “I’m the nurse.”
Beth gave a little wave.
“I thought she was the receptionist,” the woman said, appalled at her gaffe.
“No, that would be me,” Vanessa said, coming out of hiding.
Beth rose and went to shake the woman’s hand. “I borrowed Vanessa’s chair while I made a call. I’m sorry for the mix-up, Ms. Scott.” She bent down to the child’s level and touched his shoulder. “Hi, Matthew. I’m Dr. Beth. Someone told me you have an earache. Is that right?”
He nodded, tears in his eyes.
Poor little guy. She couldn’t wait to make him feel better. “Do you like giraffes, Matthew?”
He nodded.
Beth rose and took his hand. “Then, let’s go into this exam room. There’re some funny giraffes in there. I wonder if giraffes ever have an earache? Do both of your ears hurt or just one?”
He pointed to his right ear.
“Can I take a look and see why it hurts?” She lifted him to the table and began her exam, chatting with him about his kindergarten field trip to the zoo. It made a good topic of conversation. The parent was less likely to answer for the child, and Beth had a better chance to assess his condition.
Actually, she need not have tried so hard. Ms. Scott’s focus was solely on Noah as she answered his questions about Matthew’s condition and medical history. Noah might not be the doctor, but he was single. That apparently made him worthy of Ms. Scott’s attention.
But the woman’s efforts were in vain. Noah did his job with all the charisma of a rock. Beth hid a smile. So this was the serious side of Noah that she’d heard about.
Matthew needed a round of antibiotics and a huge dose of tender loving care. Beth hoped that Ms. Scott would be a better mom when she was alone with her little boy than she’d been here in the office.
Lord, put lots of people in Matthew’s life to love him.
As the child of parents who barely knew they had children, she knew the importance of kind words and loving smiles. Even a child who seemed to have everything could be starving for affirmations that somebody cared.
She gave the little guy a big hug and turned him over to Vanessa for the selection of a sticker and a lollipop. His mother gave Noah one last lingering look.
“That’s not going to be the last time that happens,” Noah said, following Beth to her office.
“What? A mother describing your eyes perfectly?” Beth teased as she traded her lab coat for a blazer.
His coffee-colored eyes sparked with indignation. “You know what I mean. I’ll be mistaken as the doctor.”
“And you think I haven’t been mistaken as the nurse?”
“You probably have,” he said dryly. “Maybe my daughter won’t run into gender bias by the time she’s grown.”
“Your example of working at a job you obviously love ought to help.”
That seemed to please him.
“Your height probably contributes toward the stereotyping,” she said. “Tall people are generally perceived to be in charge.”
He nodded agreeing. “Even when I was the greenest nurse in the ER, people expected me to know what was going on.”
“As long as we’re analyzing this stereotyping thing,” she said, deciding to have a little fun, “we shouldn’t leave out that men with eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee are generally perceived to be—”
“Could you believe that woman?” he said, interrupting.
“Of course, you had to be professional here at the office, but if you and Matthew’s mom decide to get together—”
“That won’t happen,” he snapped.
“But it would be nice for young Matthew to have a tall man to look up to.”
“Don’t you have some place you’re supposed to be? Like lunch with your uncle?”
She checked her watch. “Yikes! I’m about to be late.”
“Take your time. Your first afternoon appointment cancelled.”
“Oh? A new patient or one of Keith’s regulars?”
“A regular,” he said, concern etching his forehead. “The Logans have four children, and it’s not like them to cancel at the last minute.”
Beth hurried to her car, wondering why Noah seemed troubled by the cancellation. It didn’t seem odd to her. People had to change their plans all the time.
It was a short drive to Cathedral Hills Country Club, a favorite lunch spot for BMC doctors. The hostess called her by name and said, “Are you dining with a friend today?”
“With my uncle, Dr. Albert Brennan.” Beth scanned the dining room, expecting to see her uncle’s bald head before the hostess could show her to his table.
The hostess scanned her list of reservations. “Your uncle must not be dining with us today. He has no reservation, and he or his staff always call.”
Beth backed away. “I must have misunderstood.” While the valet retrieved her car, she called her uncle’s receptionist and asked if there had been a change in his luncheon plans.
“Not since I talked to Mona early this morning. I told her that your uncle had decided to take you to The Hilltop. She said she would give you the message.”
“No doubt she did. I must have missed it.”
“Or she deliberately didn’t give it to you,” the woman said suspiciously.
Did anyone at BMC have a kind word for Mona? “Would you call my uncle for me and tell him I’m on my way?”
“I sure will. And don’t worry. He’ll understand.”
Would Mona have deliberately withheld a message? Today, the consequence was a mild inconvenience, but another time, it could affect patient care.
Again, Beth left her car with a parking valet and walked inside the plush restaurant. With the best view of the valley and a top chef on staff, The Hilltop was fine dining at its best. If she had known they were eating here, she would have worn something dressier and traded her sneakers for designer pumps. Her mother had taught her what was appropriate even if Beth sometimes chose to ignore it.
Should she touch up her makeup, or did it matter that much when she was already late? She followed the maître d’ to a window table where her uncle an
d another man waited. They stood as they saw her.
“Here’s our Bethie,” her uncle said, beaming. “I hear you got lost, hon.”
“I’m sorry to be late. I don’t make it a habit.”
“I’m sure you don’t. Bethie, I’ve brought along Zack Hemmingway, the second-best orthopedic surgeon in town.”
Zack Hemmingway’s eyes shone with intelligence and good humor. She guessed that he was in his midthirties.
“Second-best?” she said, offering her hand. “That’s high praise, coming from Uncle Al.”
Zack wasn’t classically handsome, but in his hand-tailored dark suit, crisp white shirt and expensive silk tie, he had the confident look of a man who could hold his own anywhere.
“You should hear what your uncle says about you.” Zack glanced at her footwear and grinned. “He said you’d be wearing yellow sneakers, so everything else must be true.”
The maître d’ slipped a fine linen napkin out of her goblet and positioned it across her lap with an elegant flourish. The fancier the restaurant, the more likely they were to do that, but it always made her laugh.
Fortunately, it wasn’t her piggy laugh.
“When I knew you would be late,” her uncle said, “I took the liberty of ordering something for you.”
“I’m so glad,” she said, as a meal was placed before her. The grilled chicken on a bed of exotic salad greens with edible flowers looked appetizing, but both men had luscious-looking steaks. Hungrily, she eyed Zack’s steaming baked potato.
“I think they mixed up our orders,” Zack said, picking up his plate and trading it for hers.
She looked at him in surprise.
“Zack, you ordered the steak,” her uncle insisted.
“But did you see the way your niece was eyeing it?” he teased. “I used to have a pup who envied every bite. That’s too much pressure.”
“Now I’m really embarrassed,” she said, picking up the plate with the steak and trying to trade back.
Zack waved her off. “Forget it. I’m happy to finally meet a woman in Beverly Hills who eats real food.”
“But I can’t let you do this.”
Smiling, he forked salad greens into his mouth as if they were just what he wanted. “Now, you owe me one, don’t you think?”
With her mouth full of buttery baked potato, Beth could only nod. Zack seemed like a highly eligible man, and that’s what she was looking for, wasn’t it? He’d sacrificed his meal for hers, he didn’t seem to mind that he looked a whole lot better than she did and he didn’t work in her office. What more could she ask?
Chapter Seven
When Noah came back from lunch, Vanessa was on the phone, but she took time out to share big news. Mona had failed to give Beth a message about a location switch for her lunch date, and Beth had shown up very late, which was really bad because her uncle had brought along his protégé, Zack Hemmingway, just to meet Beth.
Noah felt the blood rush to his head. It was only Beth’s second day, but Mona was making trouble and Zack Hemmingway was making his move, just as the BMC grapevine had predicted.
If Noah needed orthopedic surgery, he’d want Zack Hemmingway’s skill. The man was that good. But Noah didn’t want to see Beth used, not by this guy or anyone else.
The grapevine conclusion was that one day Beth’s grandfather would turn the reins over to one of his sons. Beth’s dad, James T. Brennan, Jr., was the oldest, but he lived for his work. Charles took nothing seriously. Only Al had the ambition to head the clinic, and who would be Al’s successor? He had no children.
Charles’s son, Collin, had no administrative ambitions. Beth’s brother, Trey, had no respect from the staff, and her brother, Ry, had no desire to work here. That left her, or the man she might marry.
If the BMC grapevine had figured that out, it was a sure thing that Zack Hemmingway had.
In theory, Noah didn’t care how the Brennan medical dynasty developed, but Beth deserved to be loved for herself, not her name and connections. As intelligent and intuitive as she was, she would figure out what was going on. How would she feel about it? Would she fall for Hemmingway?
“Mona’s going to be in so much trouble!” Vanessa was saying to her friend on the phone. “Dr. Beth is just the nicest person, but this is bound to make her mad.”
Mona came in and put her purse away. Noah went through the motions of checking the folders of the afternoon patients. Vanessa ended her call, saying, “Thanks for checking in, hon. If there’s any change in the…weather, I’ll let you know.”
She unwrapped a candy from her kangaroo dish and popped it into her mouth with a wink at Noah.
“Really, Vanessa,” Mona chided. “It is so unprofessional of you to chitchat with your friends. Keep it up and you could be looking for a new job.”
“Mo-na,” Vanessa said, drawling the name, “you know, you really do moan a lot.”
“You’re such a child,” Mona said with contempt.
“I’m not the one playing games,” Vanessa returned with plenty of sass.
Noah gave Vanessa a silencing look. It would be better to leave Mona’s discipline, or better, her dismissal, to their boss. He hoped Beth had the guts to do it.
“Hi, everybody,” Beth said, breezing into the office with a smile on her face as she always did, the very picture of a woman content with her life.
Man, what did it take to make Beth upset?
“Did you have a nice lunch?” Mona asked, her voice syrupy sweet.
Beth had to notice that wasn’t normal.
“Lunch was the best,” Beth enthused. “It was a beautiful day for a drive. I had the top down on my little convertible, and I could have driven around all afternoon. Actually, I almost did.”
Hah! Beth wasn’t going to let this slide.
“Did you have trouble finding your restaurant?” Mona asked innocently.
“The Hilltop? Oh, not at all. I’ve been going there since I was a teenager. Did any important messages come in while I was gone, Vanessa?”
“Just these two,” Vanessa took pink message forms from the top tray where all messages went. “You were caught up on your messages and callbacks before lunch, Dr. Beth,” Vanessa said pointedly.
C’mon, Beth, put it together, he urged silently.
But the look on her face as she glanced over her messages said that she was either incredibly dense or had no spine at all.
She turned and walked toward her office, but said over her shoulder, “Mona, will you join me for a minute?”
Yes! Noah felt a smile coming on. The doc had plenty of spine. There had been no flare of temper that all of them had to endure, no harsh words that might filter out to waiting patients and nothing that would affect office morale. Just quiet words to the target.
Mona strutted down the hall as if she were just spoiling to duke it out with her boss. He whispered to himself, “Let the games begin.”
Vanessa muttered, “I think I’ll go find a box for Mona to pack her things in.”
Beth took her time, trading her blazer for her white lab coat. She’d prayed all the way back to the office and planned to keep Mona’s reprimand very low-key.
Slinging her stethoscope around her neck, she sat on the edge of her desk and said pleasantly, “Mona, we all make mistakes. You’ve been a valued part of Brennan Medical Clinic for many years, so, please, don’t worry about the mistake you made today.”
“I was here long before you were, Bethie,” Mona said, looking down her nose, “and I’ll be here after you’re gone! I don’t make mistakes!”
The menacing power coming out of the woman hit Beth like a physical blow. The Bible said a gentle word was supposed to turn away wrath, but just how much more gentle could she have been? Could she get through to someone with so much hate?
“Mona, it wasn’t a huge mistake, but failing to give me the message from my uncle about the change of restaurants was a mistake. You and I are in the trust-building stage, and I must know that you don�
��t take this lightly. It was only lunch today, but another time, it might have consequences that neither of us want.”
“Don’t blame me because you failed to read your messages!” the woman said with a smirk.
The smirk was a dead giveaway. In some obscure location, Beth would find the message, and Mona would claim it was just where it belonged.
“Do you remember where you put the message, Mona?” Beth asked with the patience she would use on a child who’d lost a toy. Granted, it was demeaning, but she’d taken about all of Mona’s insolence she could stand.
“Of course, I remember!”
“Why don’t you show me?”
“Show you?” Mona practically laughed in her face. “Let me just do that.” Pivoting, she marched to the front office and pulled a letter-size sheet of paper from Beth’s in-tray, the one reserved for letters and lab reports. “There! There’s your message!”
“But Mona,” Vanessa said, “we always put the phone messages on the pink forms in the top tray.”
“Nothing of the sort. Messages go in both trays.”
“Is that a new rule?” Noah asked, making it clear that it wasn’t.
Beth never ran from a fight, but she did sidestep a lot. “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “Let’s call this incident a learning experience. To avoid mix-ups, in the future, it’s officially a rule. My phone-in messages go on the pink forms and in my top tray.”
“Just like we’ve always done,” Vanessa said, taking one last snipe at Mona.
Beth couldn’t begrudge her that.
The rest of the afternoon sped by, partly because Beth kept getting phone calls from her family about Mona’s message misdirection. Beth took them between patients at the front desk.
Grandpa asked if she needed him to get to the bottom of the message mix-up. Uncle Al said she was putting BMC at risk for a malpractice suit if she didn’t get rid of Mona. Uncle Charlie offered to try charming Mona to resign. Collin reported that the grapevine consensus was that Mona should get the ax.
Mona might have felt the heat, because she’d left early for a “dental appointment.” Beth pretended not to see Vanessa give Noah a low-five.
