Harvey muttered under his breath.
Sammy lay down next to Macy and focused his gaze on the old man. She could tell he was worried, too.
“I just met the most unpleasant person,” Macy said, figuring that if she could distract Harvey he might agree to let her call for help.
“Anyone I know?”
“I doubt it.” She made a face. “He got all nasty because I was a few minutes late.”
Harvey grinned. “You’re always late.”
That was a gross overstatement. “Not true! I try to be on time.” And she did. But the world seemed to conspire against her. Invariably something would delay her. Like today— She couldn’t leave the house while Lovie was crying. Besides, that man had asked to see pictures of her work. Then he had the audacity to complain because she’d taken the time to comply.
Despite her efforts, she’d been cursed with this proclivity for being late. If it wasn’t one reason, it was another: a missing cat, an unexpected delivery, a desperate phone call from a friend. The timing was uncanny.
“He’s such a pompous jerk.”
“Who?”
“This doctor I met,” she said, wondering why he still lingered in her mind.
“What kind of doctor is he?”
“A pediatrician who believes he’s the center of the universe. He had a really wonderful wife, too.”
“Had?”
“She died.” Macy grew quiet. “I liked her so much. She had the most gentle, loving spirit.”
Harvey snickered.
“Oh, come on, Harvey, haven’t you ever met someone who’s truly good? Someone you feel an instant camaraderie with?”
“No.”
“Not even me?” she teased.
Harvey snickered again. “Hardly. You’re lucky I put up with you.”
“Am I really that difficult?” Okay, so she wasn’t everyone’s idea of the perfect neighbor—or girlfriend or employee. Macy tried to conform whenever possible, but she wasn’t too successful at taking directions from others. She needed her freedom, always had. Her Grandma Lotty had called her a free spirit, but unfortunately, even free spirits needed money, which meant Macy had to work. Her problem, aside from a resistance to following orders, was the fact that she got bored if she had to do one thing for any length of time.
Painting murals, for instance. She’d tackle a project and would work on it intensively for a week. Once she was finished, she was finished; she never wanted to see that painting again. She’d be physically exhausted and mentally depleted. Two or three days would pass before she found the energy to accept another assignment. It was the same with knitting. She probably had a dozen half-completed projects lying around. The vest for Harvey was the current one, and she was determined to get it done by the fall. She needed variety.
“This doctor upset you, didn’t he?”
Macy nodded. “He was a major disappointment.” She’d expected more of the man Hannah had married. He must have some redeeming quality, although it hadn’t been apparent in their initial meeting.
“Don’t do it,” Harvey advised.
That had been her first inclination, too. “You mean you think I shouldn’t paint the mural?”
“You don’t like him?”
“Well…I suspect it was more of a case of him not liking me.”
Harvey shook his head. “That I can understand.”
“Harvey!” She slapped his arm. He was feeling better, she could tell; still, she wasn’t prepared to leave until she was sure he’d completely recovered. They’d happened before, these spells of his. She thought it might be his heart, but there was no real way of knowing unless Harvey underwent a physical exam. And Harvey, being Harvey, was dead set against stepping foot inside a medical office. No amount of wheedling would convince him to make an appointment.
“Tell the doctor you’re not interested in the job,”
Harvey said again.
“I need the money.”
“What for?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said playfully, raising her arms in a shrug. “It’s just that I’ve grown accustomed to certain luxuries—like eating regular meals. ” She’d like to see Harvey placate three hungry cats without any cat food on hand. That was one lesson she’d learned the hard way. Her cats had not been fooled nor were they amused when she’d served them Cheerios for breakfast. Okay, fine, that had only happened once, but they’d made their disgust quite plain. At least they’d lapped up the milk.
“Speaking of meals,” she began.
“Were we?”
“Yes, I was talking about how fond I am of little things like breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
“Right,” he muttered.
His agreeing with her was unusual enough to get her attention. “When’s the last time you ate?”
He frowned as though deep in thought. “A while ago.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“This morning.”
That might explain why Harvey appeared to be lightheaded.
“I think,” he added.
Well, no wonder, then. “Stay put,” she ordered as she rose to her feet.
“You talking to me or that mangy mutt?”
Macy smiled. “Both of you. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t hurry on my account and don’t be bringing me anything from your fridge. I remember the last time you decided I needed to eat.” He cringed at the memory, and Macy rolled her eyes.
“You liked it,” she told him.
“Until I learned I was eating health food.” He nearly spat out the word.
“Tofu is excellent for you. And you didn’t mind it when you thought it was chicken.” She’d told that little white lie for his own good.
“I had indigestion for a week.”
“I’ll bring you canned soup,” she promised. Her cupboards were looking like Mother Hubbard’s, except for a case of tomato soup she’d picked up a month or so earlier. A bowl of that would be easy on Harvey’s empty stomach. She’d heat some up and bring it to him.
“What’s it got in it?”
“Tomatoes.”
“How can I believe you?” He snorted. “You already tried to fool me once.”
“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it,” she told him.
“I don’t like it.”
“You haven’t tasted it yet.”
“I won’t like it,” he insisted.
“You sound like a two-year-old.”
Macy refused to argue with him any further. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
“Take your time,” Harvey said. “In fact, take all the time you want—like a year or two.”
“A bad mood is merely a symptom of being hungry or tired.”
“Maybe that was your doctor’s problem. Maybe he was hungry or tired.”
Macy pretended not to hear as she climbed over the fence and walked in her back door. She really should remember to lock it. Someone might actually break in one day. Not that a thief would ever find anything. Heating up the soup took only a few minutes. She carried out a bowl using both hands, with a sleeve of soda crackers tucked under her arm. Harvey’s eyes were closed and his hand rested on Sammy’s head. He removed it when he heard her coming.
“I was napping,” he complained. “You woke me up.”
“Here.”
“I said I don’t want that.”
“Harvey, don’t make me spoon-feed you.”
He seemed to weigh his options, then sat up straighter and reached for the bowl.
Macy waited until he’d taken his first spoonful. His eyed widened and he looked genuinely surprised. “This isn’t bad.”
“Told you so.”
Macy returned to the kitchen and prepared a second bowl for herself. Her cats weren’t pleased to see her go, especially so soon after she’d come home. They wove between her feet, purring loudly in protest.
“I’ll be back in a little while,” she said, bringing her own soup outside.
She stepped over the fence again and reclaimed her place on the lawn next to Harvey. Sammy gazed at her bowl of soup and seemed to decide she could have it all to herself. Macy ruffled his ears.
“Find the owner of that dog yet?” Harvey asked.
“Nope.”
“He can’t stay here.”
“Okay, Harvey.”
“I mean it this time.”
“Of course, Harvey.”
“Why do you agree with everything I say, especially when we both know you don’t mean a word of it?”
She grinned and helped herself to a couple of crackers.
“It’s just my nature, I guess.”
He ignored that and looked at her thoughtfully. His soup was only half-eaten when he set it aside. “You figure out what you’re going to do?” he asked.
“About what?”
“That doctor.”
“Oh, him.” Macy had almost managed to forget that unpleasant man and wasn’t happy about the reminder.
“You didn’t like him.”
“No.”
“Then don’t work for him.”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t.” Michael Everett would probably criticize every detail of the mural. Working for him was guaranteed to be completely and totally frustrating.
Macy glanced at the house and saw all three of her cats sitting on the windowsill, watching her. It was their dinnertime. She’d need to buy cat food soon, since she didn’t want a repeat of the Cheerios incident. Harvey had a point; she could turn down the job. But that would be foolish, especially when the first of the month was fast approaching.
“You thinking about what I said?” Harvey asked.
“I am.”
“What did you decide?”
She settled back on the grass, supporting her weight on the palms of her hands. “I’m thinking I’ll paint that mural.”
The old man grinned as if he’d known all along that was what she’d do.
“But I won’t like it,” she added emphatically.
Chapter Sixteen
I ’d had an enjoyable weekend with Ritchie and Stephanie. Max had turned nine and we’d celebrated his birthday long after his rambunctious friends had departed. Max requested the leftover cake and ice cream for dinner, so that was what we ate.
Perhaps because the weekend had been such a highlight, my week started off well. Wednesday morning I arrived at my office after meeting my brother-in-law at the gym and was greeted with a surprise.
Winter Adams was there waiting for me.
Linda told me she’d brought Winter to my office. “Did I do the right thing?” she asked uncertainly.
“It’s fine,” I assured her.
Winter stood when I entered the room. She gave me a warm smile and I saw a large plate of fresh croissants on the corner of my desk.
“I know it’s rude to stop by unannounced,” Winter said,
“but I hope you don’t mind.”
“On the contrary, I’m delighted.” And I was—but I hadn’t expected anything like this.
Winter moved toward me and I met her halfway. I didn’t plan what happened next. As she drew near I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. To anyone else it might seem a little thing, but to me, at this stage of grieving, it was major. I was actually comfortable kissing, albeit rather formally, another woman. I wasn’t sure how to explain it, other than that it seemed appropriate.
“I hadn’t heard from you,” Winter said, “and thought I’d drop by. I hope you and your staff enjoy the croissants.”
I heard the hesitancy in her voice and realized she was uneasy about appearing forward. “I appreciate it,” I said.
“So will everyone else.”
“My pleasure, really.” She walked over to my desk and I saw she’d also brought a paper bag. She took out a stack of paper plates, napkins and several small jars of jelly and foil-wrapped pats of butter.
“Thank you. This is very generous, Winter.”
She bobbed her head. “You’re welcome. I know you’re busy, and I should be getting back to the café. My baker, Alix, is pregnant. I mentioned that before, didn’t I? The entire staff watches over her. So I’ve been coming in extra early and… Well, anyway, I wanted you to know I’ve been thinking about you.” She didn’t look up as she spoke and I noticed that her hands trembled slightly. They made small jerky movements as she arranged everything on the desk; then she didn’t seem to know what to do with them anymore and dropped them by her sides.
“Thanks again,” I said awkwardly.
“Your nurse said you have a busy schedule this morning so I won’t keep you.” She picked up her purse, yanking the strap over her shoulder as she edged her way to the door.
“Enjoy.”
I walked with her. “Can I call you later?” I asked. She looked up at me as a slow smile slid into place. “I’d like that.” She moved past me and gave my elbow a gentle squeeze as she left.
For a minute, maybe longer, I stood rooted to the spot, analyzing what had just happened. I hadn’t talked to Winter in more than two weeks. I was doubtful there was any chance of a romantic relationship between us. Winter and Hannah had been more than cousins, they’d been good friends. I was afraid any relationship we might have would be stalled by our mutual love and admiration for Hannah. Perhaps I was wrong; however, I hadn’t felt the spark of attraction that might have eventually flamed into romance, if I may be forgiven that cliché.
I took the plate of croissants into the small room reserved for staff breaks. Linda found me there.
“Don’t you want one?” she asked.
“I do, but I’ll have it later.” I wasn’t much of a breakfast eater and had set a croissant aside in my office. “That was Hannah’s cousin.”
“So she said.”
I set the plate down on the countertop next to the microwave. “It was very kind of her, don’t you think?”
Linda avoided eye contact.
“What?”
When I caught her gaze, she smiled knowingly. “Winter was being more than kind, you realize. She’s interested in you.”
“In me? ” I asked, playing dumb. I planted my hand on my chest as if I considered the idea preposterous. Linda rolled her eyes. “She couldn’t have been more blatant if she’d tried—and she’s trying.”
I grinned. “Yeah, I guess she is.”
“Are you going to ask her out?”
I hadn’t gotten that far. “I don’t know. What do you think?” I wanted a woman’s take on the situation, a woman’s perspective. Linda had worked for me from the time I’d joined the practice and knew me well. She’d given me unstinting support during Hannah’s illness; as Ritchie said, she’d been a rock. She was closer to my mother’s age, and while I spoke to my parents in Arizona every other week, dating again wasn’t a topic I’d discuss with either of them.
“What do I think?” Linda murmured. “I’m not sure. Are you attracted to Winter?”
“I suppose I could be,” I said, although I really wasn’t convinced of it.
Linda’s brows gathered in a frown. “That isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.”
“I don’t really know her well enough to have formed much of an attraction,” I hedged.
“Okay,” Linda said, “how do you feel about getting to know her?”
That question was easier to answer. “I wouldn’t mind.”
And it was true. At the very least, we could resume a friendship of sorts, this time without Hannah as our go-between.
“Then do it,” my nurse said. “The ball is definitely in your court. The next move is up to you.”
I had the distinct feeling that if I didn’t follow through after Winter had taken the initiative, I probably wouldn’t hear from her again, family connection or not. I enjoyed Leanne Lancaster’s company and had been giving serious thought to calling her. The reason for my hesitation was simple—I was afraid. I wasn’t ready for this and neither was she. Leanne felt as emotionally raw from her divo
rce as I was a year after losing Hannah. The strongest link between us was pain, and that wasn’t the most solid basis for any sort of lasting bond. However, I sensed that we might be able to help each other heal. There’s comfort in shared misery. Together we might even find a way to move beyond the pain to a new form of happiness—or contentment at any rate. Hannah had chosen three women and now I’d met all of them. They were as different from one another as any three women could be. As far as I could tell, Hannah had included Macy Roth for comic relief. Hardly ever had anyone, male or female, irritated me more. Hannah had suggested that Macy would make me laugh; however, she’d been wrong. If anything, Macy left me with the urge to pull out my hair by the roots.
For all my musing I hadn’t come to a firm decision about Winter or Leanne. I’d hire Macy to paint the mural, but not out of any genuine desire to know her. I’d spent maybe ten minutes in her company and had no doubt whatsoever about how I felt. She was off the list. The mural was a good idea, though, and if the photographs were any indication, her work was acceptable. I’d give her the job. I’d completed my duty as far as Hannah was concerned. I’d met Macy and made my decision. That left Winter and Leanne. It was only fair I get to know them both, then make my choice. Or not. I found a semblance of peace in that non decision. A calmness of spirit. I wasn’t sure I’d ever experience real peace again, but this felt close. I was satisfied with what I’d determined to do.
The rest of the day passed smoothly and I’d just seen my last patient for the day, a six-year-old boy who’d managed to get a tiny toy car stuck up his nose. I showed him a couple of magic tricks I saved for occasions such as this, which helped him relax, and I was able to retrieve it from his sinus cavity.
Young Peter’s awed reaction to my “magic” delighted me, and I was grinning as I walked out of the exam room. Linda met me at the door. “This is your day for female visitors,” she said, looking pleased with herself—as if she alone was responsible for bringing these women into my life.
I assumed it was Leanne Lancaster.
“She’s brought a sketch for you.”
Macy Roth.
I could’ve finished the week without another confrontation with that screwball and been happy.
“Is she waiting in my office?”
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