“See?” she’d say. “Grammy is baking cookies. Lucas likes cookies.”
A dozen or more times, Tracy told her, “Mama, if you don’t quit fussing over Lucas like that, you are gonna spoil him silly.”
More often than not, Lila gave that same so-what shrug Tracy had once given her and continued on with whatever she was doing.
“Grandmas are supposed to spoil their grandbabies,” she’d say, and laugh.
In addition to her trips to Barrington, Tracy found that she actually enjoyed doing ad layouts for the Snip ’N’ Save. She’d somehow developed quite a flair for design, and at times Meghan would find her changing a perfectly acceptable ad just to make the border a bit wider or add some small flourish.
“Well, it does look better,” Meghan would have to admit, then she’d scurry off to a client meeting or head out with a picnic lunch for Tom.
No longer burdened by the day-to-day work of the Snip ’N’ Save, Meghan and Sox began visiting the clinic more often. Some weeks she’d stop by as often as every other day, and once she got there she was in no hurry to leave. While Tom was with patients, she’d check the water bowls, walk the dogs, and fill the treat jars with dog biscuits or kitty treats. If she ran out of things to do, she’d ask if Emily needed a hand mailing out appointment cards or tidying up the reception room.
In the middle of November when the leaves were starting to turn, Emily came down with the flu. She called in Monday morning sounding like a foghorn.
“I’m too sick to even get out of bed,” she said through a moan. “You’ll have to get someone to fill in this week.”
“There isn’t anyone,” Tom said. “It’s November, and the temps are all working at the department stores.”
“Ask Meghan.” Emily sneezed into the phone, then hung up.
Tom mulled it over for several minutes, stuck on the thought that visiting for a few hours was quite different from spending the entire day behind a desk. Then he hit on the idea of not asking her to do it but simply asking if she knew anyone who might be willing to fill the spot for a week.
He dialed the office number, and she answered.
“Good morning, this is the Snip ’N’ Save,” she said. “How may I help you?”
“Meghan?”
“Oh, hi, Tom. I thought it was a customer call, so I used my Snip ’N’ Save voice.”
“Oh, you’re working,” he said, sounding disappointed.
“Not right at the minute,” she replied. “I have time to talk. What’s up?”
The way he’d had the speech all planned out suddenly felt wrong. It seemed conniving, and he cared too much for Meghan to go through with it.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later. I’ve got to make a few phone calls.”
She heard the hesitation in his voice.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, but by then he’d hung up. When she called back, the line was busy.
After fifteen minutes of getting a busy signal, an edgy feeling began to settle in Meghan’s stomach, and she decided to go to the clinic and check on Tom. She whistled for Sox, then jumped in the car and took off. She made it in eight minutes, which was a near record.
The reception room was empty, other than the perturbed-looking Francine Birnbaum and her schnauzer.
“Where’s Emily?” Meghan asked.
Francine scrunched her nose in a look of annoyance.
“You’re asking me?” she snipped. “We had a nine-fifteen appointment. It is now twenty-five past, and no one has even checked in Bailey.”
Meghan slid her tote bag under Emily’s desk as Sox bolted toward the back office.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Give me a minute, and I’ll try to get Dr. Whitely for you.”
With her heart now thumping hard against her chest, she turned and headed toward the back of the clinic. Something was wrong, drastically wrong. Picturing Tom in the operating room with the victim of some terrible accident, she almost flew by his office and would have kept going had she not heard the sound of his voice.
“I’ll pay time and a half,” he pleaded.
“Tom?” Meghan stuck her head through the doorway. “Mrs. Birnbaum’s in the reception room, and Emily’s not there.”
He covered the phone with his hand. “Emily’s out sick. Would you tell Mrs. Birnbaum I’ll be with her in a few minutes?”
“Sure, but—”
He turned back to the phone. “Friday is no good. I need someone all week.”
“What are you doing?” Meghan whispered.
“Yes, I’ll hold.” He covered the phone again. “Trying to get a temp to sub for Emily.”
She took the phone from his hand and said, “Go see Mrs. Birnbaum; I’ll take care of this.”
When the Reliable Temps representative came back on the line, Meghan said, “The position has been filled. We won’t be needing anyone after all.”
She then made a quick phone call to Tracy saying she’d be helping Tom for the rest of the week, and settled in behind Emily’s desk feeling perfectly at home.
Meghan had been around the clinic long enough to know what to do. She powered on the computer and checked the appointment log, then moved the credit card reader to the counter where it belonged. Without skipping a beat, she became Emily. Not an Emily who just booked appointments and validated credit cards, she turned into an Emily who came from behind the desk to greet the animals.
The hours flew by, and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, the day was gone. Tom insisted he wanted to pay her, but Meghan flatly refused.
“You can, however, take me out to dinner,” she said.
Once the office was closed and the clinic’s patients all cared for, she clicked the leash onto Sox’s collar and the three of them went back to the Garden and sat at an outside table. After the crimson glow of sunset disappeared and the candles on the tables were lit, a crisp breeze came up. Seeing Meghan shiver, Tom draped his jacket over her shoulders and scooted close enough to press his thigh against hers.
Meghan turned and let her eyes linger on his. “It was a good day.”
“Very,” he replied.
They ordered two cappuccinos and sat looking up at the stars for yet another hour. Sitting with his arm curled around her shoulders, Tom never noticed the chill, even though the temperature had plummeted and he was without a jacket.
It was close to midnight when he finally dropped her off at the house. Rather than going back for her car, he suggested he’d pick her up on the way in the next morning.
“That sounds good,” she answered dreamily.
On Tuesday morning, Henry Mosley came in with Chelsea, a collie with a gray muzzle who appeared almost as old as her octogenarian owner. When Meghan noticed the dog limping, she came from behind the counter and squatted down to take a look at the paw.
She inhaled sharply. “Good grief, there’s something stuck in there.” Before you could bat an eyelash, she’d reached in and plucked out a rusty nail.
“Well, if that ain’t something,” Henry said. “I looked and didn’t see a thing.”
“It was stuck between the pads,” Meghan explained. “She should be okay, but I think you need to clean her paw with peroxide and put some Neosporin on it.” She thought a moment, then added, “It would help if you had something to cover that paw and keep it clean. A baby sock maybe.”
“Baby sock? Where am I gonna get such a thing?”
“Let’s see if I can get one for you.” She lifted the phone and punched in her home number. When her mama answered, Meghan asked if Lila could come over with one of Lucas’s baby socks.
In the middle of watching her TV show and only half listening, Lila replied, “Lucas is napping, and I thought Sox was with you.”
“Sox is with me, but what I need is a baby sock.” She explained the situation, and Lila agreed to come.
“My show’s over in five minutes. Can he wait?”
Meghan covered the mouthpiece and turned to Henry.
“Mama can be here in twenty minutes. Can you wait?”
He bobbed his head and settled back into the chair.
Henry was still waiting when Mildred Washington emerged from the back office with her cat carrier and stepped to the desk. As Meghan was processing Mildred’s payment, Tom came out. He greeted Henry, then squatted to pet the dog.
“So what’s wrong with Chelsea today?” he asked.
“Nothing now,” Henry replied. “Your nurse took care of it.”
“My nurse?”
Henry waggled a finger toward Meghan. “Pulled a nail out of Chelsea’s paw, good as you could’ve done. I don’t need peroxide or Neosporin; I’ve got those at home. I’m just waiting for the sock.”
“Sock?”
Henry nodded. “Her mama’s bringing it over.” He went on to say using a baby sock was the cleverest thing he’d ever heard of. “It beats trying to bandage a paw, that’s for certain.”
After Lila had come and gone and only Meghan was left in the reception room, Tom came up behind her and kissed the back of her neck.
“So how’s my favorite nurse?” he teased.
She swiveled the chair and came face-to-face with him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump in ahead of you. I saw the nail in Chelsea’s paw, and I just—”
He laughed. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He touched his fingers to her chin, tilted her face up toward his, and then added, “Other than how you’ve missed your calling.”
Before she could answer, he covered her mouth with his. He would have lingered there and let the moment lead to something more were it not for the sound of a car door slamming.
With the kiss still warm on her lips, she whispered, “I think your three o’clock is here.”
“Later, then,” he said, and gave her a quick peck before he turned away.
For days Tom had been noticing Meghan’s way with animals. Not only Sox but just about every animal that came into the office. Twice before he’d said something—not an out-and-out suggestion, simply a hint at one—but she’d not picked up on it.
Tonight, he thought. Tonight he was having dinner at the Briggs house, but afterward he and Meghan would most likely sit on the front porch or take a stroll down to the lake, and that’s when he would ask her. Now that Lucas was doing so well and Tracy content to stay put, there was no reason for her not to consider it.
The Question
After work, Tom went back to his apartment to change and freshen up before dinner. He and Meghan left the office together. As she climbed into her car, he kissed her cheek and said, “See you this evening.”
Seconds later, they pulled out of the parking lot, one behind the other. She turned left; he turned right.
On the drive to his apartment, Tom thought through how he would broach the subject. He couldn’t just come at it out of the blue. There had to be some kind of groundwork, something to spark the conversation.
An opportunity for a better future?
He didn’t waste a lot of time thinking that one over, because positioning it in such a way could imply he held the Snip ’N’ Save in low regard. Definitely not a good idea.
An opportunity to do something she loves?
Not a good enough argument. She’d loved working at the Snip ’N’ Save. It’s possible she still did.
After a certain amount of consideration, he settled on starting with the story of how she’d plucked a rusty nail from Chelsea’s paw and how without anyone telling her to do so, she’d come up with the idea of bandaging the paw in a baby sock. He’d tell the story as they were gathered at the dinner table and then move on to saying such a talent was a God-given gift. Later on when they were alone, pushing back and forth on the porch swing or maybe sitting on the grassy bank of the lake, he would return to the subject and ask the question.
Confident he’d hit upon the perfect plan, he pulled a soft blue shirt from the closet and finished dressing. On the drive over, he stopped and bought a potted chrysanthemum. He’d give it to Tracy and say it was a token of his appreciation for her covering work at the Snip ’N’ Save this week so Meghan could sub for Emily.
It was a fifteen-minute drive, and by the time he turned down Baker Street, he was certain he’d covered all the bases, but when he pulled into the driveway, there was an unfamiliar car parked there.
Could it be Dominic? Tom had never met him. Still, he’d heard enough about the angry phone calls to know that his showing up would not be a good thing. Tom climbed out of the car, drew a deep breath, then grabbed the chrysanthemum and started for the door. Meghan answered his knock and didn’t look the least bit upset. Tom brushed a kiss across her lips, wrapped his free arm around her, and leaned toward her ear.
“Whose car is in the driveway?” he whispered.
“Aunt Phoebe came with a gentleman friend tonight,” she said in a hushed voice. “But don’t let on that it’s anything out of the ordinary, or you’ll embarrass her.”
“Why? Doesn’t she—”
Meghan hushed him as they rounded the corner and stepped into the living room. A silver-haired man in a navy blazer and gray slacks stood and looked across with a broad smile.
“Ah, so this is the young veterinarian Phoebe has been telling me about.” Without waiting for anyone to do the introductions, he stretched his arm out and started toward them. Pumping Tom’s hand up and down, he said, “Charles Franklin, Esquire. Retired.”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Tom replied.
Seconds later, Lila came in carrying a tray of glasses and bottles of both white and red wine. Setting the tray on the coffee table, she turned to Meghan.
“Dear, will you pour the drinks while I fetch the hors d’oeuvres from the oven?”
“Certainly,” she said, then asked Charles what he’d prefer.
“Is that a French or Italian pinot noir?” he asked.
Meghan checked the label. “French.”
“Ah, well then, my decision is made.” When Meghan handed him the glass of wine, he held it up and eyed the color.
“Beautiful,” he said. Then, bringing the glass to his nose, he sniffed the aroma. “Ah, the earthy fragrance of mushrooms and fresh-picked cherries. Delightfully familiar.” Before she’d filled the remaining glasses, Charles launched into a story of traveling through the south of France on a wine-tasting excursion.
He’d barely finished the story when Phoebe jumped in and told how Charles was organizing a wine-tasting group at the apartment complex.
“We’ll meet once a month, and everyone will bring a bottle of their favorite. Charles says the secret to a successful wine tasting is to serve a small savory between each sampling. A French cheese, like a Boursin or a Camembert.”
After everyone had a glass of wine in hand, Charles proposed a toast and felt compelled to say it in French.
“À votre bonheur et à votre santé.”
Charles continued on, telling of first one exploit and then another until at long last Lila announced dinner was on the table.
They stood and started toward the dining room. Tom, hoping to divert the topic of conversation from Charles’s travels, said, “Well, it’s been nice hearing about those adventures. I know you probably have hundreds more, and maybe sometime in the future—”
“He most certainly does,” Phoebe said. “Although Charles is modest to a fault, I can tell you he’s extremely well read and very involved at the library. That’s how we met. He’s going to chair next year’s lecture series.”
Charles reached over and patted her hand. “My dear, you flatter me.”
He then seized the opportunity to segue into a lengthy description of the plans he had for the series.
Throughout the salad, leg of lamb, garlic smashed potatoes, and string beans, there was not a single opening for Tom to bring up the subject of Meghan’s skill with animals. When Charles launched into a story of cattle grazing on the hillside, Tom thought there might be a slim chance, but that story led to the description of a centuries
-old farmhouse. By the time Lila brought out dessert, Lucas, who’d been sitting in his high chair for way too long, started banging on the tray. Anxious to finish dinner and get him off to bed, Tracy jumped up and started for the kitchen.
“I’ll get the coffee, Mama,” she said.
Lucas screeched, then held out his arms and cried, “Ma-ma!”
Tracy whirled around on her heel. “Did you hear that? He said mama.”
“He surely did,” Lila agreed. “Clear as a bell!”
For the first time that evening, Charles leaned back in his chair and stopped talking.
“Say it again, baby,” Tracy urged. “Mama. Come on, one more time.”
Lucas impatiently bucked back and forth with his arms held out for her to pick him up, then cried, “Ma-ma.”
Tracy lifted him from the high chair and turned to the group.
“It’s his first word,” she said proudly.
At that point, the conversation turned to Lucas and all that had happened. Tracy told of how Sox barking had caused Meghan to suspect Lucas wasn’t hearing.
Thinking this could be an opportunity, Tom said, “Yes, Meghan is wonderful with animals. Why, just today—”
Before he could even get started, Tracy moved on to telling how Meghan had introduced them to Gabriel Hawke.
Tom resigned himself to the thought that later, when he and Meghan were alone, he would talk to her about it. Even if he hadn’t been able to bring it up at dinner and get some support from Lila and Tracy, the incident was still fresh in Meghan’s mind. She’d have to see the value of such an idea.
After the table was cleared and the dishwasher loaded, everyone except Tracy moved toward the living room. She headed upstairs with Lucas.
Not wanting to give Charles the chance to start another long-winded story, Tom said, “I hope you’ll excuse us. Meghan and I were planning to take a walk down to the lake. You know, stretch our legs after sitting for so long.”
“By George, that sounds like a splendid idea.” Charles patted his stomach as if it were a drum. “Work off a few calories after that meal.”
The Summer of New Beginnings: A Magnolia Grove Novel Page 21
