“I…oh…uh…,” Maxine said, blushing. “I thought this was just lunch … you know … because of the Wexlers.” He smiled at her. She looked so surprised that he wondered if she was involved with someone and had expected him to know it, or sense it.
“Are you seeing someone?” he asked discreetly, and she looked even more embarrassed. She was blushing.
“You mean as in dating?”
“Well, yes, as in dating.” He was laughing.
“No.” She hadn't had a real date in over a year, and hadn't slept with anyone in two. Thinking about it that way was actually depressing, and most of the time she tried not to. She just hadn't met anyone she liked in a long time, and sometimes she wondered if she didn't want to. She had gone out with a number of people after she and Blake split up, and had gotten tired of being disappointed. It seemed simpler to just forget it. The blind dates she'd gone on, courtesy of friends, had been particularly awful, and the others, with people she'd met randomly, weren't much better. “I don't think I date,” she said awkwardly. “Not in a while anyway. It just seemed kind of pointless.” She knew a number of people who had met through the Internet, and she couldn't imagine doing that, so she had just stopped trying and gave up dating. She hadn't planned it that way, it just happened, and she was busy.
“Would you like to have dinner?” he asked gently. It seemed hard to believe that a woman with her looks, at her age, wasn't dating. He wondered if she'd been traumatized by her marriage, or maybe by some relationship since.
“That would be fine,” she said, as though he had suggested a meeting, and he looked at her with disbelief and amusement.
“Maxine, let's get something clear here. I have the feeling you think I'm inviting you to an interdisciplinary meeting of some kind. I think it's great that we're both physicians. But to be honest, I don't care if you 're a go-go dancer or a hairdresser. I like you. I think you're a beautiful woman. You're fun to talk to, you have a nice sense of humor, and you don't appear to hate men, which is rare these days. Your CV would put most people to shame, man or woman. I think you're attractive and sexy. I invited you to lunch because I wanted to get to know you, as a woman. I'm inviting you to dinner, because I want to get to know you better. That's a date. We eat dinner and talk and learn about each other. Dating. Something tells me that is not on your agenda. I can't figure out why, and if there's some serious reason for it, you should probably tell me. But if not, then I would like to ask you out for a date, for dinner. Is that okay with you?” She was smiling at him, and still blushing, as he explained it.
“Yes. Okay. I think I'm a little out of practice.”
“I can't even imagine why that would be, unless you've been wearing a burka.” He thought she was gorgeous, and most men would have agreed with him. She just somehow had managed to take herself off the dating market, and had been hiding her light under a bushel. “So when would you like to do dinner?”
“I don't know. I'm pretty free. I have a national psychiatric association dinner next week on Wednesday, otherwise I have no plans.”
“How about Tuesday? Why don't I pick you up at seven, and we'll go someplace nice?” He liked good restaurants and fine wines. It was the kind of evening she hadn't had in years, except with Blake and the kids, and those were less adult evenings. When she saw her old married friends, they didn't go to restaurants, and she went to their homes for dinner. And she was even doing that less often. She had let her social life dwindle from lack of attention and interest. Charles had reminded her, without meaning to, of what a slug she had been about going out. She was still startled by his invitation, but agreed to Tuesday. She didn't make a note of their dinner plans, she knew she'd remember, and she thanked him as they got up and left. “Where do you live, by the way?” She gave him the address, and said that he would meet her children when he picked her up, and he said he'd like that. He walked her back to her office, and she liked striding along beside him. He had been good company over lunch. And then she thanked him for lunch again, and walked back into her office, feeling dazed. She had a date. An honest-to-God dinner date, with a fairly attractive forty-nine-year-old internist. He had told her his age over lunch. She didn't know what to make of it, although she realized with a smile to herself that, if nothing else, her father would be pleased. She'd have to tell him about it the next time they talked. Or maybe after the date.
And then, all thoughts of Charles West went out of her head. Josephine was waiting in her office. Maxine took off her coat and hurried in to begin their session.
Chapter 7
Maxine's weekend was insanely busy. Jack had a soccer game, and she had to provide the snacks for their team. Sam went to two birthday parties, and she carpooled for both of them, and Daphne had ten friends in for pizza. It was the first time she had had friends over since the fateful beer party, so Maxine kept a close eye on them, but nothing untoward happened. Zelda was back on her feet again, but had the weekend off. She was going to an art exhibit and planning to see friends.
Maxine worked on another article in her spare time late at night. And two of her patients were hospitalized over the weekend, one for an overdose, and the other for observation as a suicide risk.
She had six kids to visit in two different hospitals on Monday, and a slew of patients in her office. And when she got home, Zelda was sick as a dog with flu and a fever. And she was worse on Tuesday morning. Maxine told her not to worry about it and to stay in bed. Daphne could bring Sam home from school, since Jack had soccer practice and was being carpooled. They could manage. And they would have, if the gods hadn't conspired against her.
Maxine had patients back to back all day. Tuesday was her day to see new patients, she had histories to take, and first meetings with adolescents were crucial, so she needed her wits about her. At noon, Sam's school called her. He had thrown up twice in the last half hour, and Zelda was in no condition to go and get him. Maxine had to do it. She had a twenty-minute break between patients, got a cab, and picked Sam up at school. He looked miserable, and threw up all over her in the taxi. The driver was furious, she had nothing to clean it up with, and she tipped him twenty dollars. She got Sam upstairs, tucked him into bed, and asked Zelda to keep an eye on him, in spite of her fever. It was like leaving the wounded with the maimed, but she had no other choice. She showered, changed, and had to get back to the office. She was ten minutes late for her next patient, which made a poor impression, and the girl's mother complained about it. Maxine explained that her son was sick and apologized profusely.
Two hours later, Zelda called to say Sam had thrown up again, and had a hundred and one fever. Maxine asked her to give him Tylenol, reminded her to take some herself, and at five o'clock, it started raining. Her last patient came in late, and admitted that she'd smoked weed that afternoon, so Maxine stayed past their hour to discuss it with her. The girl had been going to Marijuana Anonymous, and this was a major slip for her, and a particularly bad idea since she was on medication.
Maxine's patient had just left when Jack called her in a panic. He had missed his car pool, and was standing alone on a street corner, in a bad area on the Upper West Side. She wanted to kill the mother who had left him. Her car was downtown in a garage, and it took her half an hour to find a taxi. It was after six when she finally got to Jack, standing shivering in the rain at a bus stop, and it was a quarter to seven when they got home in heavy traffic. They were both wet and cold, and Sam looked awful, and was crying when Maxine walked into her bedroom. She felt like she was running a hospital, as she checked on him and Zelda, and told Jack to take a hot shower. He was soaked to the skin and sneezing.
“How are you? Not sick, I hope,” she said to Daphne as she passed her on the way to Sam's room.
“I'm okay, but I have a science paper due tomorrow. Can you help me?” Maxine knew the question really was if her mother would do it for her.
“Why didn't we work on it this weekend?” Maxine asked her, looking stressed.
“I
forgot I had it.”
“A likely story,” Maxine muttered, as the intercom rang in the front hall. It was the doorman; he said that a Dr. Charles West was downstairs for her, and Maxine's eyes flew open wide with a look of panic. Charles! She had forgotten. It was Tuesday. They had a date for dinner, and he was supposed to come by at seven. He was right on time, half her household was sick, and Daphne had a science paper due that Maxine was supposed to help her with. She was going to have to cancel, but it was incredibly rude at the last minute. She couldn't imagine going out, and she was wearing the clothes she'd worn to the office. Zelda was too sick for her to leave the kids with her. It was a nightmare. She looked stricken when she opened the door to Charles three minutes later, and he looked startled to see her in slacks and a sweater, with wet hair and no makeup.
“I'm so sorry,” she said the moment she saw him, “I've had the day from hell. One of my kids is sick, the other one missed his ride home from soccer practice, my daughter has a science paper due tomorrow and our nanny has a fever. I'm going nuts, please come in.” He came through the front door, just as Sam wandered into the hall, looking green. “This is my son Sam,” she explained just as Sam threw up again, and Charles stared at him in amazement.
“Oh my,” he said, and looked at Maxine with alarm.
“I'm sorry. Why don't you go in the living room and sit down? I'll be in, in a minute.” She rushed Sam into her bathroom, where he threw up again, and then she ran back to the hallway and cleaned up with a towel. She got Sam into her bed, as Daphne walked into the room.
“When can we do my paper?”
“Oh my God,” Maxine said, ready to cry or have hysterics. “Never mind your paper. There's a man in the living room. Go talk to him. His name is Dr. West.”
“Who is he?” Daphne appeared baffled, and her mother looked crazy. She was washing her hands, and trying to comb her hair at the same time. It wasn't working.
“He's a friend. No, he's a stranger. I don't know who he is. I'm having dinner with him.”
“Now?” Daphne looked horrified. “What about my paper? It's half of my final grade for the semester.”
“Then you should have thought about it sooner. I can't do your paper. I have a date, your brother is throwing up, Zelda is dying, and Jack is probably going to catch pneumonia from standing in the rain at a bus stop for an hour.”
“You have a date?” Daphne stared at her. “When did that happen?”
“It didn't. And it probably never will at this rate. Will you please go talk to him?” As she said it, Sam said he was going to throw up again, and she ran him into the bathroom, as Daphne went to meet Charles with a look of resignation. She managed to toss over her shoulder on the way out that if she flunked, it wasn't her fault, since her mother wouldn't help with the paper. “Why is it my fault?” Maxine shouted back at her from the bathroom doorway.
“I feel better,” Sam announced, but he didn't look it. Maxine put him back in her bed, with towels around him, washed her hands again, and gave up on her hair. She was about to leave the room to see Charles, when Sam looked at her mournfully from the bed. “How come you have a date?”
“I just do. He invited me to dinner.”
“Is he nice?” Sam looked worried. He couldn't even remember the last time his mother had gone out. Nor could she.
“I don't know yet,” she said honestly. “It's no big deal, Sam. Just dinner.” He nodded. “I'll be back in a minute,” she reassured him. There was no way she was going out to dinner.
She reached the living room finally in time to hear Daphne telling Charles all about her father's yacht, plane, penthouse in New York, and house in Aspen. It wasn't exactly what Maxine wanted her to talk about on the first date, although she was grateful Daphne had left out London, St. Bart's, Morocco, and Venice. She gave Daphne a quelling look and thanked her for entertaining Charles. Maxine turned to him then and apologized profusely for Sam's performance when he walked in. What she really wanted to apologize for was Daphne bragging about her father. When she showed no sign of getting up, Maxine told Daphne she needed to get started on her science paper. Daphne was reluctant to leave, but finally did so. Maxine felt like she was going to have hysterics.
“I'm so sorry. My house isn't usually this insane. I don't know what happened. Everything went nuts today. And I'm sorry about Daphne.” “What are you sorry about? She was just talking about her father. She's very proud of him.” Maxine suspected Daphne was trying to make Charles uncomfortable intentionally, but she didn't want to say that. It was bratty of her, and she knew better. “I didn't realize you'd been married to Blake Williams,” he said, looking a little daunted.
“Yeah,” Maxine said, wishing they could start the evening over, without the scene from The Exorcist on the way in. It would have helped too if she'd remembered they had a date for dinner. She hadn't written it down, and it had gone right out of her head. “That's who I was married to. Would you like a drink?” She realized as she said it that she had nothing in the house except some cheap white wine Zelda used for cooking. Maxine had meant to buy some decent wine over the weekend but had forgotten that too.
“Are we going to dinner?” Charles asked bluntly. It didn't look like it to him, with a sick kid, another one with a paper due, and Maxine looking frazzled beyond belief.
“Would you hate me if we didn't?” she asked honestly. “I don't know how it happened, but I forgot. I had a crazy day today, and I somehow neglected to write it down when we made the date.” She looked near tears, and he felt sorry for her. Normally, he would have been furious, but he didn't have the heart to be. The poor woman looked overwhelmed. “This could be why I don't date. I'm not very good at it.” To say the least.
“Maybe you don't want to date,” he suggested. It had occurred to her too, and she suspected he was right. It just seemed like too much trouble, and too hard to manage. Between her work and her kids, her life was full already. There was no room for anyone else, or the time and effort it took to date.
“I'm sorry, Charles. I'm usually not like this. I run a pretty tight ship.”
“You can't help it if your son and nanny got sick. Would you like to try again? How about Friday night?” She didn't want to tell him that Zelda would be off then. If she had to, she'd ask her to work. Between the root canal the week before, and tonight, Zelda owed her one anyway, and she was a good sport about things like that.
“That would be terrific. Would you like to stay? I have to cook dinner for the kids anyway.” He had a reservation for them at La Grenouille, but he didn't want her to feel bad, so he didn't mention it to her. He was disappointed, but he told himself he was an adult, and he could handle a broken date if he had to.
“I'll stay for a little while. You've got your hands full. You don't have to cook me dinner. Would you like me to have a look at your son, and the nanny?” he offered kindly.
She smiled gratefully at him. “That would be really nice. It's just the flu. But that's more your bailiwick than mine. If they get suicidal, I'll step in.” He laughed. He had been feeling suicidal himself watching the chaos in her house. He was not used to children, and the confusion that surrounded them. He led a quiet, orderly life, and he preferred it that way.
She walked Charles down the hall to her bedroom, where Sam was tucked into her bed, watching TV. He looked better than he had all afternoon. And he looked up when his mother walked in. He was surprised to see a man with her.
“Sam, this is Charles. He's a doctor, he's going to take a look at you.” She was smiling at her son, and Charles could see how crazy she was about her kids. It would have been hard to miss.
“Is that your date?” Sam asked with suspicion.
“Yes, it is,” Maxine said, looking embarrassed. “His name is Dr. West.”
“Charles,” he corrected with an easy smile as he approached the bed. “Hi, Sam. Looks like you're feeling pretty crummy. Have you been throwing up all day?”
“Six times,” Sam said proudly. �
�I threw up in the taxi coming home from school.” Charles glanced at Maxine with a sympathetic grin. He could imagine the scene.
“That doesn't sound like fun. Can I touch your tummy?” Sam nodded and pulled up the top of his pajamas, as his brother walked in.
“You had to call a doctor for him?” Jack looked instantly worried.
“He's her date,” Sam explained as Jack looked confused.
“Who's her date?” Jack asked.
“The doctor,” Sam told his brother, as Maxine introduced Jack to Charles, who turned to smile at him.
“You must be the soccer player.” Jack nodded, wondering where the mysterious doctor/date had come from, and why he hadn't heard about him. “What position do you play? I played soccer in college. I was better at basketball, but I thought soccer was more fun.”
“Me too. I want to play lacrosse next year,” Jack volunteered as Maxine watched them.
“Lacrosse is a tough sport. You get a lot more injuries in lacrosse than in soccer,” Charles said, as he stood up after examining Sam, and then he looked down at the little boy with a smile. “I think you're going to make it, Sam. I'll bet you feel better by tomorrow.”
“Do you think I'll throw up again?” Sam looked worried.
“I hope not. Just take it easy tonight. Would you like some Coke or ginger ale?” Sam nodded, assessing Charles with interest. As Maxine watched them, she realized how unfamiliar it was to all of them to have a man in their midst, but it was nice. And he had a sweet way with them. She could see that Jack was checking him out too. And a minute later, Daphne walked back in. They were all standing in their mother's bedroom, which seemed suddenly too small with so many people in it. “Where are you hiding the sick nanny?” Charles asked her.
“I'll show you,” Maxine said, and led him out of the room, as Sam giggled and started to say something, and Jack put a finger to his lips to silence him. Maxine and Charles could hear them giggling and whispering as they walked away, as Maxine turned to Charles with an apologetic grin. “This is a little different for them.”
Rogue Page 11
