The Husband Maker Boxed Set

by White, Karey

  I slouched down on the couch and ran my hands through my hair, resisting the urge to pull it.

  Not only had Charlotte come all the way to Kansas City much to my dismay, now she was living in my apartment complex. Why couldn’t she have listened to me and gone home where she belonged. Was she trying to ruin me?

  I let out a growl and then kinda hated myself. When had I become so melodramatic? I had spent so much time patiently waiting for Chuck to come around. I hadn’t spent that time wringing my hands or pulling out my hair. I’d simply waited. Why, now that Chuck was here, did I feel like breaking dishes or punching a wall?

  Maybe I should find another place to live.

  Suddenly I wanted to know how close she actually was. I retrieved my phone off the bed and walked out the front door. I didn’t even bother with shoes. I turned right, past my car in the parking lot, and followed the sidewalk. My building faced C, which meant D sat diagonally from mine. I craned my neck to see which second-floor apartment door had number 213 on the front.

  There it was. And not far from where I stood was the CR-V with California plates. She was probably in that apartment right now, waiting to see how I’d respond to her invitation for stir-fry.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked up at the door. It would be so easy. I could walk up the steps and knock on her door. The fact that I’d come without a jacket or shoes would tell her I hadn’t wasted a minute coming to her. I wouldn’t have to say a word. I could just take her in my arms.

  It was hard not to think about how it had felt to hold her. She was the tallest girl I’d ever kissed. I had wondered if it would be strange, but it wasn’t. It was like we had been made for each other. It would feel good to erase the disappointment I’d seen on her face when I’d told her she should go home.

  The cold sidewalk chilled my feet through their socks and a sharp, November wind pushed my shirt against my back.

  It was so tempting. I could almost feel the pull from her front door. It would be so easy to give in to it. But easy didn’t mean right and I had to do what was right for me, no matter how hard it was. The right thing was for me to protect myself from my feelings for Charles. What if I walked up there and opened myself up again and things didn’t work out? She might not find a real job here and how long would she be satisfied cooking at a hotel restaurant before she was bored and wanted to go back to her good job and her family? Did Chuck even know her own feelings? Was I just the safety net that felt comfortable after years of losing so many times? How often are people happy about the consolation prize?

  I dug in my pocket for my key when I got back to my apartment. The only thing I found was my cell phone and a few coins. I was locked out.

  “See, Chuck, you’re always causing me trouble,” I said as I hurried to Daphne’s office to see about a spare key.

  Later that night, as I stared at the unmoving ceiling fan above my head, I realized I hadn’t responded to Charlotte’s text. I flipped on the lamp and re-read the text before I typed in a response.

  ME: CHARLES, I’M HAPPY YOU GOT A JOB IF THAT’S WHAT YOU WANT, BUT I STILL THINK YOU SHOULD GO BACK TO JAYNE FIFE. YOU LOVED YOUR JOB AND YOU SHOULD GET IT BACK WHILE YOU CAN. YOU’RE WASTING YOUR TIME HERE.

  My thumb hovered over the send button. Why was she forcing me to be a jerk? I didn’t want to hurt her. I deleted what I’d written and started over.

  ME: SORRY I DIDN’T GET BACK TO YOU SOONER. I’M SURE I’M TOO LATE FOR STIR-FRY. I HAD A CRAZY NIGHT TONIGHT. GOOD LUCK AT YOUR NEW JOB.

  I pushed the send button.

  “Dr. Barclay, come on in.” It still gave me a little thrill to hear myself called Dr. Barclay.

  “Dr. Winters.” He stood and shook my hand.

  “I wanted you to take a look at this.” Dr. Winters was the physician overseeing my hip fellowship. I had shadowed him several times and had even watched him perform two hip replacements. The older man stood with his hands folded behind his back, looking over the glasses that rested low on his nose.

  Dr. Winters was a small man, bald and wiry, with quick, sure movements. Despite his diminutive stature, he commanded respect and I felt my pulse quicken.

  “What are we looking at?” I asked, standing beside him.

  “Look at this hip socket and tell me what you see.”

  I wiped my suddenly clammy hands on my white coat and took a step forward, hoping I wouldn’t fail this impromptu test. I studied the x-rays for a moment before I spoke.

  “It looks like there are some abnormalities right in here.” I made a circular motion around the hip joint.

  “Can you elaborate?”

  I studied the x-ray several more seconds. “It looks like there’s deterioration in the femoral head and a buildup of fluid.”

  “That’s right. The patient is a six-year-old male suffering from pain in the hip, thigh, and knee. They’re coming in for an appointment with me this afternoon at two-thirty. I’d like you to take these to your office, do a little research, and meet me back here at two so we can go over your findings before they arrive.”

  I pulled the x-rays off the light box and slid them into the large envelope Dr. Winters handed me.

  “Dr. Barclay?” he said when I’d reached the door.

  “Yes?”

  “This is going to be your case. I’ll be a consulting doctor, but this boy now belongs to you.”

  “Thank you, doctor.”

  I felt a punch of adrenalin as I walked back to the office I shared with two other fellowship residents. My own case. A six-year-old boy who needed my help. I closed the door and began my research.

  I felt confident as I knocked on Dr. Winters’s door. I had spent the last couple of hours studying what could be wrong with my new patient, and I was eager to have Dr. Winters confirm my diagnosis.

  “Come in, Dr. Barclay. Have a seat. Tell me what you’ve found.”

  “I believe the patient is suffering from Legg-Calve-Perthes disease.”

  “Hmm.” Dr. Winters nod was slight, and it was hard to tell if he was agreeing, disagreeing, or encouraging me to continue. “Tell me more about this condition.”

  “Legg-Calve-Perthes disease is caused when there is insufficient blood-flow to the upper growth plate of the thigh. It causes the femoral head, or the ball of the hip joint, to deteriorate and it’s painful. It often presents in children, especially males, so the patient is a good candidate for the disease. Of course, I’d like to examine the patient myself.”

  “Indeed. And you shall in about fifteen minutes.” I wanted him to tell me I was right, but he just tapped his fingers together for a few seconds. “If you’re correct, what would be your course of treatment?”

  “If it had been caught earlier, I’d have recommended a leg brace and physical therapy. If it had gone on longer, and the bone had deteriorated further, I’d have recommended surgery. If my diagnosis is correct”—I looked at Dr. Winters, but his expression was giving me nothing—“I think the patient is at a stage that will require traction before we put him in a brace, but not so severe as to need surgery.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  I was starting to sweat. I stood and put the x-rays up on the light box and flipped the switch. Dr. Winters joined me in front of it. “There appears to be a buildup of fluid around the joint. I don’t think anti-inflammatories would be enough to resolve it. By putting the patient in traction, we can calm the inflammation. We need to do that so the brace can contain the femoral head in the socket so it can begin healing.”

  Dr. Winters smiled. “Very impressive. I think you’re ready to meet Braxton Chandler.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Winters.” It was difficult not to grin. Not only did I have my own patient, but it appeared that Dr. Winters agreed with my diagnosis.

  Braxton and his parents arrived at Dr. Winters’ office a few minutes later. Braxton’s limp was noticeable, his face strained but smiling. His father lifted him onto his knee. His mother reached over and held his hand.


  Dr. Winters introduced us and turned to me. “Dr. Barclay is working on his hip fellowship, so he and I will be working together for you, Braxton. Dr. Barclay?”

  I explained the diagnosis and our plan for treatment. Mr. and Mrs. Chandler’s expressions softened with relief, and I realized they had been completely in the dark. It felt good to be able to help them.

  We made arrangements for Braxton to be admitted to the hospital at the beginning of the following week. He would remain in traction for at least seven days, maybe more if the swelling was stubborn. The Chandlers shook my hand as they left.

  When they were gone, Dr. Winters patted me on the back and inclined his head. “Good work, Dr. Barclay. Good work.”

  I should have been tired when I pulled into the Milton parking lot. It was almost eleven o’clock, and I’d been working since four in the morning. After my consultation with Dr. Winters, I had worked six hours in the emergency room. I should have been ready to crash, but I felt happy and energetic. Braxton Chandler was my patient. I would be making the decisions on his treatment.

  I turned the opposite way of my parking space and moved slowly through the lot until I saw it. Charlotte’s car. I glanced up at the window of 213. The light was on. I could share my good day with Charles. I knew it would make her happy if I knocked on the door and told her about Braxton.

  It would make me happy, too.

  Suddenly I missed Charlie with a fierceness I hadn’t allowed myself to feel for a long time. I could do something about it, but if I knocked on her door, we’d be opening a door I wasn’t ready to walk through. I wasn’t about to set myself up again.

  I circled the parking lot, pulled into my space, and walked into my cold, dark apartment. I reheated leftover frozen pizza and watched the local news.

  Charlotte

  “Two chocolate cheesecakes and one lemon mousse with raspberries.” Andy, one of the waiters, slapped the counter as he walked by, and I pulled out two dessert plates and one martini glass. I drizzled chocolate sauce across the two plates with an artistic flourish and carefully slid a piece of cheesecake onto each plate. Then I fanned out a sliced strawberry on top. I filled the glass with lemon mousse and put a small wedge of caramel lace at the edge, along with two plump, red raspberries.

  Boyd came by and looked over the desserts before Andy picked them up. “Looks good.”

  Andy put them on his tray and left, winking at me over Boyd’s shoulder. I pretended like I hadn’t noticed and turned back to Boyd. Andy had been trying to flirt with me for the past week. If I were interested in dating anyone but Angus, I would have been flattered. As it was, I found his attention to be more like that of a cricket when you’re trying to fall asleep.

  “Listen, Charlotte, your desserts are lovely, but you need to practice on the parmesan curls. You’re mangling them. Our diners have come to expect their Caesar salads to look a certain way, and parmesan crumbles simply do not pass as parmesan curls. Feel free to practice to your heart’s content.”

  “What do you want me to do with the ones I mess up?”

  “Don’t mess up.”

  “Oh. I’ll try not to.” I felt my face turn red.

  He waved me off with a loose wrist. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Don’t take it so personally. You’ll get it figured out.”

  I sort of smiled. “I’ll keep working on it.”

  “Put the ones you mess up in a bag, and we’ll use it in a sauce.”

  I pulled out a huge wedge of aged parmesan. My arm trembled as I slowly pulled the cheese slicer across the surface, leaving behind a trail of crumbled cheese. Would I ever get long curls of parmesan the way Boyd did? I’d been practicing on them for a week now with no noticeable improvement.

  When I had arrived at Escape with two other temporary employees, Boyd had assigned me to “the pantry.” I imagined a pantry like at home, and pictured myself spending two weeks stacking canned goods on shelves. “The pantry” turned out to be a wonderful assignment—except for parmesan curls—since its purpose was to make the salads and desserts. For a week now I’d been making garden and Caesar salads and plating cheesecakes and mousses and tortes. Another temp had been assigned to chop vegetables while the third had been assigned to wash dishes. I felt terrible for the dishwasher, as her shift lasted longer than ours and every time she walked through, her clothes were wet and she looked like she’d stepped out of a sauna. I had even asked Boyd if I should trade off with her every other day, but he said my desserts looked too good to mess with. I was secretly relieved, even though I wondered if she might make better parmesan curls.

  “Let me show you a trick the girl before you used.” Andy stepped around the counter and took the cheese slicer out of my hand. He leaned in close, his voice conspiratorial. I leaned back, putting a little distance between Andy’s minty breath and my ear. “Don’t let Boyd see this. He thinks everyone should be able to make curls with a cheese slicer, but Heather used a potato peeler and said it was much easier.”

  Andy pulled a potato peeler out of the pocket of his waiter’s apron and held it up before pulling the cheese across the cutting board and slicing a perfect curl.

  “Wow. Let me try that.”

  “I think it’s the swiveling action of the blade. Look at you.” He held up the parmesan curl I’d just cut and admired it before he plopped it in his mouth.

  “Why would Boyd care how I make the curls?” I asked, slicing another pale yellow coil.

  “It’s Boyd. There’s no explaining why he thinks the way he does.”

  “Thanks for sharing the tip.”

  “No problem. You sure I can’t convince you to go with some of us to Big Red’s after the restaurant closes?” This was the third night this week that Andy had invited me to join some of the staff at a bar around the corner.

  “I’m sure. I’ve got to get home.”

  Andy peered at me closely. “Ah, I get it. You’ve got a man to get home to. I shoulda guessed.”

  Of course I didn’t. At least not a man at home. But I did have a man in my apartment complex, which was why I wasn’t interested in flirting or hanging out with another guy, so I decided to take the easy, slightly truth-bending way out.

  “Yeah, I don’t think he’d be thrilled if I joined you. But I do appreciate the offer.”

  Andy saluted me and headed out to the dining room. I thought about what I’d said as I sliced enough parmesan curls to get us through the rest of the night. Was it true? Would Angus be less than thrilled if I were to go out with another guy? Or would he be relieved?

  It hurt to not know the answer.

  “Another Saturday night in the books.” Boyd flaccidly high-fived two of the waiters and one of the chefs as he walked through the kitchen. “Great night of service, people. Now finish cleaning up and get out of here.”

  I removed my chef coat and hung it on a hook around the corner from the pantry.

  “You did well this week, Charlotte.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Did you get your meal tonight?” Each employee in the restaurant was compensated one meal per eight-hour shift.

  “I had a bowl of lobster bisque and a roll.”

  “That’s not a full meal, you know.”

  “I wasn’t that hungry, and it was pretty busy.”

  “Jim?” Boyd clapped his hands together three times. “Please put together a molasses and walnut chicken for Charlotte to take with her.”

  “You want the fingerling potatoes and roasted vegetables with it?”

  “You don’t have to . . .”

  Boyd interrupted me. “Yes, she wants everything. Be generous.” He turned to me. “Take it home and share it with your honey.”

  I glanced around the kitchen, looking for Andy. “Now don’t be upset with Andy for spilling the beans. Everyone around here was wondering whether you were single or not.”

  I didn’t correct him. “Thanks.”

  Sweet and nutty aromas filled my car, and I realized I was starving. I was surp
rised to see Angus’s car in the parking lot and even more surprised to see a light on in his apartment.

  Maybe I was intoxicated by the delicious smells or perhaps I was fed up with the whole situation. I had been in Kansas City for three weeks and had seen Angus less than half a dozen times. I hadn’t moved this far from home to spend all my time alone.

  Indignation made me brave. I locked the car and carried the bag from Escape to Angus’s front door and knocked.

  It took Angus a minute to get to the door. He stood in front of me in jeans and an Avett Brothers concert t-shirt. His feet were bare.

  “Hey, we went to that concert together.” I inclined my head toward his shirt.

  “Charlotte, do you know what time it is?”

  “No.” I quickly calculated what time it must be in my mind. The restaurant closed at ten. I cleaned the pantry, waited a few minutes for Jim to pack my meal, and drove home. Yikes.

  “It’s almost eleven.”

  “Sorry. It’s just that they gave me a meal at the restaurant and it’s way more than I can eat alone, so I thought I’d share. They even sent dessert.”

  “What restaurant?”

  “Escape. Remember? I’m working there.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “Angus, I’m freezing and the food is probably getting cold. Can I please come in?”

  He hesitated a moment and then stepped aside so I could walk past him.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I already had dinner.” He followed me to the kitchen counter.

  “What time?”

  “About six.”

  “That was almost five hours ago. You’re probably hungry again, so this can be your midnight snack. Even though it’s not quite midnight yet. Anyway, they sent way too much for me and I know you like good food and theirs is awesome, so I thought we could share.”

  I unpacked the food and opened the cartons so the delicious aroma filled the air. I knew I was babbling, but I wasn’t sure how to stop. I pulled plates down from the cupboard and kept talking.