Do You Hear What I Hear?

by Holly Jacobs

  “You’re welcome, ma’am. Whoever he is, he’s sure sorry. He called the shop and sent me out after hours, even though it cost him extra.”

  Libby shut the door and took the card from the arrangement Meg had placed on the hall table. “Dear Ms. Snippy,” it read, “Here’s a number for Dan’s Driving Lessons. I suggest you start ASAP.”

  What an arrogant, couldn’t-park-to-save-his-truck sort of man. Without thinking she bent and sniffed the flowers. He might be an idiot, but that didn’t mean Libby couldn’t enjoy the beautiful arrangement.

  “What?” Meg asked, grabbing the card.

  “I had a run-in at work,” Libby explained, all her previous annoyance flooding back. “Come on, let’s finish dinner.” She stuffed the card in her pocket and started walking back to the kitchen.

  Meg stopped her with a tug on her sleeve. “An accident?” Concern was etched on Meg’s expressive face.

  “No,” Libby reassured her. “A very bad parker who thinks he’s funny.”

  “I think he is, too,” Meg said. “Is he cute?”

  “No, he’s not cute, and you’re a traitor.”

  “I’ve seen you park.” Meg pantomimed numerous parking attempts. “You end up miles from the curb.”

  “And you’re grounded,” Libby said, laughing. Her frustration with Dr. Hunky-can’t-park Gardner evaporated in the face of her daughter’s amusement.

  “Am not.”

  “Are, too.” Hands flew as they talked over one another. “No.” “Yes.” “I still have homework.” “You’re a cheat.” “And you can’t park.”

  “Eat,” Libby said, and Meg’s hands quieted as she finished her spaghetti. Unfortunately Libby’s thoughts didn’t have to quiet while she ate, and no matter how she tried, they kept circling back to Dr. Gardner. He obviously thought his good looks and a cute card attached to some mums and leaves would get him out of trouble. Well, he had a thing or two left to learn.

  Libby didn’t like him—didn’t like him a bit. He was arrogant, and he had a warped sense of humor. Add to that the fact he was far too good-looking for his own good, probably had half of Erie’s female population eating out of his hand, and you had the right mixture for trouble.

  Okay, he just moved here. So, he might not have all that many women yet, but just give him time and he would. But one of those women would never be Libby McGuiness.

  She could sense trouble when she met it, and in this case trouble had a name—Dr. Gardner.

  Trouble.

  The pattern of the waiting room border was the least of his worries the next morning, but Joshua Gardner found himself staring at the wallpaper book anyway. Visions of wallpaper designs might be dancing before his eyes, but it was visions of his new neighbor that kept dancing in his mind. A new neighbor whose snapping blue eyes had haunted his dreams last night. A new neighbor who didn’t appreciate his parking abilities.

  She did have a point. It certainly hadn’t been his best parking job ever. He’d been in such a hurry to get into his office—his office—that he’d simply jostled his truck into the first available space and never even checked that the oversize vehicle hadn’t infringed on anyone else’s space.

  And, of course, his response to her anger had been a bit over the top. He’d been tired, and the tension of getting his practice off the ground might not impress her as a good enough excuse, but there it was. He’d been tired and grumpy and she’d simply set his teeth on edge.

  Josh had felt bad moments after he’d pulled out of his parking space. He hoped his flowers had eased the tension between them. The last thing he wanted was to start off on the wrong foot—or tires as the case may be—with his new neighbors.

  She was cute though. Ms. McGuiness. She was all bristles and outrage. Both of which happened to look very good on her. He chuckled as he forced his attention back to the task at hand. Wallpaper. It might not be one of his most earth-shattering decisions, but it was his decision. His new life, his new office…his new wallpaper border.

  “This,” he said, pointing to a bold, geometric-shaped border.

  “You’re sure?” Amy’s tone suggested she was anything but sure about his choice.

  “Yes. I’m positive.”

  His cute, just-out-of-high-school, bundle-of-energy receptionist shrugged and grabbed the book. “Okay, you’re the boss. It’s your office.” She strode from the office and slammed the door.

  The boss.

  That was him. Joshua Gardner was in charge, in control. It had been a long time since he’d felt as if he was in control of anything. But now he was the sole owner of Gardner’s Ophthalmology. Every piece of furniture and all the equipment in the office was his. The hiring and firing of staff for the office was all up to him. Even the wallpaper decisions were all his. The buck stopped at his desk.

  The problem was the bucks were close to stopping altogether. Buying Dr. Master’s practice, deciding to buy the office building rather than rent it, relocating to Erie…It all took money. After his divorce, his bank account was suddenly lighter than it had been in years. At the moment it wasn’t just light, it was next to empty. But the practice came with a built-in patient base, so hopefully he’d recoup some of his money soon.

  Joshua glanced around his office, most of his things still in boxes. The painters were coming tonight to give the waiting room and his office a badly needed face-lift. His new border—which was perfect no matter what Amy thought—would go up sometime next week. Things were progressing.

  The move had been the right thing to do. Coming home to Erie, Pennsylvania, had been just what he’d needed to begin his life anew in the city where he’d begun his life. If he walked to the corner and looked down the road, he could see the hospital he was born in. Farther down State Street was the bay where he’d learned to water-ski. Happy memories were stored in about every corner of the city.

  Dr. Joshua Gardner was home, he was in charge of his destiny and things were going to be great.

  The intercom buzzed. “Doctor?”

  “Yes, Amy.”

  “Your eight o’clock is here.”

  “I’m coming.” Josh shoved his papers to the back of the desk. He was home, doing the job he loved to do, and had probably even scored a few brownie points with his new neighbor with his flowers. Every woman loved to get flowers.

  Yes, things were going to be just great.

  Chapter Two

  “So, what do you think?”

  Eight o’clock in the morning was too early to think, too early to deal with Mabel, too early to deal with just about anything. That’s why Libby never scheduled her first hair appointment until eight-thirty if she could help it. Coffee and paperwork for half an hour. It was quiet and eased her into a fully functional human.

  And if customers were too much to deal with, Mabel was a complete overload of her fragile system.

  Libby finished scooping the coffee into the filter, trying to come up with a convincing reason why she couldn’t help Mabel out. “I don’t think—”

  It’s a good idea. That’s how Libby had planned to end the sentence, but Mabel cut her off and said, “So don’t think. Just say yes. It will be fun.”

  “If it’s going to be so much fun, why don’t you do it?” Libby slammed the filter into the coffeemaker and hit the switch.

  “Hey, I’m president of the association, I can’t hog all the fun jobs. And I’m doing my bit for the area. Now it’s your turn.”

  “Couldn’t I find some other turn to take? I could plan a bake sale, or—”

  “You could plan the Christmas party.” Mabel shook a motherly finger at Libby. “I need someone I know I can count on.”

  “But I don’t have the time.” Time. Libby felt as if every day was a race against the clock. All day long on her feet, then her evenings with Meg, and all the responsibility for the household chores and…

  Libby shook her head. No, she didn’t have time for anything else.

  “What if I got someone to co-chair the event?” Ma
bel asked.

  Mabel wasn’t going to give up. Libby could see it in the older woman’s stubborn expression and realized she’d lost this particular battle before she’d even started fighting.

  Facing the inevitable, she asked, “Someone who’ll co-chair in name only, or someone who is willing to dig in and really work?”

  “Work.” Mabel held up her fingers in a scout’s honor sign and then crossed her heart.

  If the woman had a heart she would never have come to Libby and made this absurd request in the first place. Despite the fact that everything in her was screaming to refuse, Libby found herself saying, “Maybe, if I’m not doing everything all by myself, I could manage.”

  “Of course you can,” Mabel promised. “This is a good way for you to have some fun. We all worry about you. All you do is work and take care of Meg. You need a life.”

  “And planning a Christmas party is your way of assuring I get a life?”

  Mabel shrugged even as she broke into a grin. “It’s a start. And if you have any problems or questions, you know you just have to ask.”

  The coffeemaker made the glug, glug sound that indicated it was done brewing. Gratefully Libby poured herself a mug. If Mabel had come after her first few cups, she suspected she would have done a better job of getting out of this particular task.

  “If I have questions, you’ll have the answer?” she asked.

  “Of course not. I’m a delegator, not a problem solver.” Mabel grinned infectiously. “But I’ll sympathize.”

  “Gee, you’re too generous.”

  Mabel shrugged. “It’s a fault.”

  “Do you want a cup?” Libby asked, but Mabel shook her head. “You know it’s going to be your fault if this party is a bust. I don’t throw personal parties, so what do I know about throwing one for around fifty people?”

  “As much as anyone else, I’m afraid. And, Libby?”

  Something in Mabel’s tone made Libby even more concerned. She took a fortifying gulp of coffee. “Yes?”

  “Um, I did mention that this Christmas party isn’t just for the group?”

  “No?” It was for more than the dozen or so businesses, and their employees, that made up the Perry Square Small Business Association?

  “Families, too.”

  “Mabel!” Quickly Libby’s mind tried to come up with some calculations. The Perry Square Business Association, the PSBA, had a dozenish businesses as members, about fifty people. If families were included, that was definitely over a hundred people.

  “Just how many people am I planning for?” Libby asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere under two hundred. And don’t worry. I’ll have a list of kids for you, and their ages.”

  Libby glared at the woman she used to consider a friend. “Why do I need the children’s ages?”

  “So Santa can have the appropriate presents there for them.”

  “Presents?” What on earth had she gotten herself into? “Mabel, you didn’t say anything about families, or kids or presents. I was thinking a brunch at some restaurant, maybe a party favor or two. There’s no way—”

  “—you could do it alone, which is why the idea of a co-chair is such a good one.” Mabel must have sensed she’d best get while the getting was good, because she grabbed her coat and started toward the door.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Libby called. “We’re not done talking here.”

  “Now, don’t you worry. I’ve got a couple great lists that should prove very helpful. And it just so happens that I suddenly have the perfect idea for a co-chair for you.”

  “Who?” Libby tried to think of anyone in their group who was crazy enough to let Mabel rope them in. She couldn’t think of a soul…other than herself.

  “I don’t want to say until I’m sure.” Mabel’s hand was on the doorknob.

  “Mabel, you’re making me nervous.”

  Mabel turned around and faced Libby with a look of confusion on her face. “You know, people say I make them nervous all the time and I’m not sure why.”

  “Maybe it has to do with your coming at them with needles, or maybe you just have one of those personalities that makes people nervous.” Realizing that Mabel had managed to get her off the subject of the Christmas party, Libby added, “About this party—”

  “Gotta go,” said the neighborhood needle-pushing acupuncturist and busybody as she raced out the door.

  Libby watched helplessly as Mabel disappeared from the front of the store. Plan a Christmas party? What had she been thinking?

  She’d have to worry about it later, because she had a full day’s schedule waiting for her. But worry about it she would.

  There was just no way she could plan a party for two hundred in just a few weeks. The shop would be a madhouse between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Most of the time Libby looked forward to the holidays. But suddenly she was feeling decidedly Grinchy about this Christmas party.

  Grinchy wasn’t the word to describe how Libby felt as she waited for her four-thirty appointment later that day.

  “What do you want now?” she barked when parking-space-hogging Dr. Gardner waltzed into the shop and took a seat in front of her.

  “Just a quick trim.”

  Realization hit her. “I saw J. Gardner in the appointment book, but I didn’t realize it was you.” The name had been in Josie’s handwriting. Libby should have asked who the customer was when she didn’t recognize the name.

  If Pearly and Josie weren’t in the back room, she’d be giving them the evil eye, hoping to make them worry about a lecture when this new customer left.

  “Believe it or not, Doctor isn’t my first name. Most of my friends call me Joshua, or Josh even.”

  “Then I think I’ll stick to Dr. Gardner, if you don’t mind.”

  He was watching her reflection in the mirror, Libby realized. His dark brown eyes studied her, making her feel like a hare being stalked by a hawk.

  “And if I said I did mind, Libby?” he asked softly.

  “Then I’d say, so sorry, Dr. Gardner, I prefer we keep things formal.” She whipped the cape around his neck, and pulled it closed with a little more force than required. “And the name’s Ms. McGuiness.”

  He sighed. “You’re still miffed about the parking space.”

  “Miffed?” She reached for a comb, tapping the excess sterilizer solution against the side of the soaking jar.

  “The flowers as an apology didn’t help? In my experience, women love that kind of thing. Plus, I had to go to the effort of looking up your address in the phone book.”

  “I realize that alphabetical order might cause you some difficulty, so I’ll give you credit for having to figure out just where McGuiness might be in the phone book. And I might admit I love flowers, though I hate to be a generalization, but your card just added insult to injury.”

  From anyone else she might have found the card humorous, even cute, but from Dr. My-smile-gets-me-out-of-trouble Gardner, she was simply even more put out.

  Libby stared at his hair a moment, strangely reluctant to touch him. Why was that? Of course he was good-looking, but she cut a lot of good-looking men’s hair and never felt this unreasonable need to keep as much distance as possible between herself and them. Men didn’t affect her—not anymore. She was totally immune to the whole species.

  “An apology added insult to injury?” He craned his head so he could look her in the eye. “How?”

  “Dr. Gardner, if I’d seen an apology, I’d have accepted it.” Forcing herself to shake the crazy urge to run as far away as she could get, Libby reached out and turned Dr. Gardner’s head so he was facing forward. “The card was just another slap in the face.”

  “You don’t have much of a sense of humor, do you, Ms. McGuiness?”

  “Sure I do, when I see something humorous.”

  The only funny thing she saw right now was the strange emotions Dr. Gardner seemed to be evoking in her. She wasn’t the type to start fights on the street, and she wa
sn’t the type to hold a grudge, and yet holding one she was—holding on to it as tightly as she possibly could.

  “Are you saying I’m not funny?” he asked.

  “I’m saying you’re certainly funny, just not in a humorous sense of the word.”

  “I’ll have you know that plenty of women find me humorous.”

  Libby realized that Josie and Pearly were probably in the back room hanging on every word of her conversation with the irritating Dr. Gardner. Determined not to give them anything else worth listening to, she finished the absurd argument. “I’m sure they do, Dr. Gardner. I’m sure they do. But the big laughs you give other women don’t interest me at all. What kind of cut you want does.”

  “Like I said before, just a trim.” The humor in his voice had faded, replaced by a clipped annoyance.

  “You’re sure you’re comfortable trusting me with a sharp implement at your neck?” Libby was sure she wouldn’t trust the good doctor. His frustration was evident by his expression.

  “I’m sure you’re much too professional to maim a paying customer.”

  “Fine.” Finally the man shut up. Libby spritzed his hair with her water bottle, then snipped in blessed silence.

  Joshua Gardner might not be as humorous as he liked to think, but Libby would admit the man had a fine head of hair. Thick, with a slight tendency to curl. Running her fingers through it would be a pure sensual delight if she was the kind of woman who paid attention to those kind of things. But Libby didn’t pay attention to the way the ends of his hair curled around her fingers. No, not one bit of attention.

  No wonder he kept his hair well trimmed. Otherwise it would rapidly get out of control, just as her strange thoughts were out of control.

  She toyed with the hair, just making sure she’d cut it evenly, she assured herself. That was the only reason her fingers were lingering in his hair. It had nothing to do with the pleasure of running her fingers through his dark locks. Not a thing.

  “Are you done fondling me?” Joshua finally asked, pulling Libby from her hair-induced daze.

  “If you didn’t want me to touch you, why on earth did you make an appointment to have me cut your hair?” She spun the chair so it faced her rather than the mirror.