“Hey.” He grabbed her wrist, brought it down to the table. Her sweater looked as if someone, not Sarah though, had knitted it. Her skin above the cuff was tanned, her wrist bony in his grasp. She looked up at him, her expression unreadable and then he released her and she withdrew her hand.
“Okay, so now’s the part where you tell me you’ve thought things over and you’re ready to join forces with me. Let’s see, Doctors Benedict and Cameron, An Integrated Approach to Medical…Or are you going to insist that your name goes first?”
“Sarah.” He sat back. “Look, I’m glad you came by. I felt bad the way we left things, but what I said before still holds. Maybe if I didn’t have a daughter and…other responsibilities, I could entertain your idea. But I do.”
“And I don’t. Have kids and responsibilities, I mean. Which gives me the luxury of being able to entertain these foolish fancies. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Damn it, Sarah.” Two techs in blue scrubs passed the booth. One held a plate of enchiladas glistening with red sauce. Matthew took a breath. “I thought I’d already explained my posi—”
“You did.” She looked directly at him. “And I apologize. Again. I guess I’d fantasized so much about how this whole thing would come about that I’d already made it into reality. Before I’d talked to you. I’m sorry. Truly. It’s kind of taking a while for all the changes around here to sink in. My mom announced that she was selling her practice to CMS.”
Matthew nodded.
She shot him a sideways look. “You knew that?”
“The hospital rumor mill is pretty efficient.”
“I’m still struggling with that. My grandfather, my father, all these generations…and now she’s just selling out to some anonymous conglomerate. I’m—”
“Speechless?” Her sudden flash of anger had abated, and he made a mental note to steer clear of professional issues. As he cast around for something to say, she grinned.
“Wanna do something?” she said, suddenly sounding like the ten-year-old Sarah he’d once known. “Go for a hike, ride bikes down Lopez Hook? Look for fossils?”
He tried to remember his schedule for the coming week. He was on call at least one day. And he’d promised Lucy something he could no longer recall until he checked his calendar. “Ah, let—”
“That’s okay,” Sarah said, her voice artificially bright. “You’re busy, I know.” She smiled. “Unlike me, unemployed and footloose—”
“Sarah, shut up. I’d love to do something, I’m just trying to remember what I have going. Let me check my schedule and talk to Lucy.”
“I was thinking of driving out to Agate Beach,” Sarah said. “There’s this little girl in Nicaragua she was…probably about twelve. I used to tell her about the fossils. I promised I’d take some pictures for her. “
“She was one of your patients?”
“One of the girls in an orphanage. They were all my patients. Pepita was special though.”
“I never asked you why you left.”
“Difference of opinion with the people who ran the place. More and more bureaucracy. As much as I loved the girls, I could just see the way things were going. It was time for me to leave, to do something else. But I miss the children.”
“You stay in contact with Pepita?”
Sarah nodded, her expression faraway. “Ted and I even discussed adopting her, but her birth mother fought it. The mother had fallen on hard times, which is why Pepita was in the orphanage, but the mother had first rights.”
Matthew thought of a dozen things he wanted to ask her, but she’d retreated to that secret place again where questions felt like intrusions. And then as though a curtain had parted, Sarah was back again. “Remember when we got trapped by the tide at Agate Beach?”
“I know, I was just thinking about that. And that time you split your head open—”
“Trying to get away from you,” Sarah said. “You were trying to make me eat seaweed.”
“Why don’t we all go to Agate Beach?” he suggested. “Checkout the tide pools. I think Lucy would enjoy that.” But even as he spoke the words, he was imagining Lucy’s reaction. As though he’d proposed a root canal sans anesthesia. “It would be educational for her,” he said. “Left to her own devices, she’d spend all her time at the mall.”
NOTHING WAS RESOLVED of course, but walking through the hospital lobby after seeing Matthew, Sarah couldn’t stop smiling. She smiled at an old woman in a brown raincoat, smiled at a young mother holding the hands of a curly-haired toddler, smiled at the janitor. This feeling of happiness could get addictive, she thought as she walked out to her car. Just spilling her guts to Elizabeth, that surprised her no end, then actually confronting Matthew instead of just hiding out—which she would have done if Elizabeth hadn’t suggested talking to him. It was like lancing a boil or something, letting all the poisonous feelings out. Maybe one of these days, she would tell him about Ted.
In the car, she dug out her cell phone and called Elizabeth at the restaurant. “If this is a bad time, I can call back,” she said when Elizabeth answered, sounding distracted. “I just wanted to say thanks for the suggestion. About talking to Matthew, I mean. I did and I feel a whole lot better.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Yeah, well, I can’t always say I feel better after I’ve talked to him. Mostly he makes me feel like throwing a brick through the wall, but, hey, glad to be of help.”
“I thought maybe I could buy you lunch?”
“Can’t get away,” Elizabeth said. “I serve lunch, remember? But call me, okay?”
ON THE WAY back to her apartment, Sarah stopped at her mother’s house to pick up the rest of the boxes still stored in the basement. As she let herself in, an enormously fat tabby met her in the hallway and hissed at her. Since Rose had always professed to be allergic to cats, the cat was something of a surprise. It seemed to take an instant dislike to Sarah, hissing again as she moved past it.
“Listen, buddy,” she told it, “I lived here before you did.”
Undeterred, the cat followed her down the stairs but then largely ignored her for the next half hour as she sorted through the stack of boxes piled against one wall. She’d just opened one that contained some of the tools she’d collected during the year or so when she was deciding whether to go against family tradition and become a geologist instead of a physician when she heard Rose on the stairs. The cat rose from its noisy slumber to greet her.
“Where did he come from?” Sarah nodded in the cat’s direction.
“He was down on the ferry dock, spitting at the tourists. Fred at the chamber of commerce picked him up. They were going to take him to the pound. But—” she picked up the cat “—he has a sort of rascally charm, don’t you think?”
“No.” She eyed Rose, who was cradling the cat like a baby. “What’s his name?”
“Deanna.”
“Deanna?”
“I know, I know.” Rose buried her face in the cat’s fur. “But before him, I had this sweet kitten that I just adored and her name was Deanna. Unfortunately, she proved to be rather a slut. Ran off with the ginger tom that lived next door. Never saw either of them again. When this one came along, it seemed easier to give him the same name. When he misbehaves though, I just call him Cat.”
“I never thought of you as a cat person.” Sarah hauled a box down from the shelf and sat on the floor to open it.
“What are you looking for?” Rose asked.
“Collecting things for a fossil-hunting expedition.” She looked under an old ski sweater she vaguely remembered from her childhood. “Eureka. A rock hammer!” She held it up to show Rose. “Remember that?” She dug into the box again. “And here’s my ice pick and sledgehammer.”
“Lovely,” Rose said. “Shall I pack you some freeze-dried meals? Maybe a little caribou jerky.”
“Would you?” Sarah stood and wiped her hands down the sides of her jeans. “I’m sure it would go down well with Matthew’s daughter.”
&n
bsp; “Spoiled child, that one,” Rose said tartly. “Elizabeth brought her in for acne treatment. “Quite the little princess.”
Sarah absorbed that piece of information, wondered whether Matthew contributed to the spoiling. What had Elizabeth said about her being a daddy’s girl? A vague unease settled in, clouding the prospect of the outing. Maybe she wasn’t ready for Matthew, the doting daddy. Matthew and Elizabeth’s daughter, flesh-and-blood proof that ultimately Matthew had chosen Elizabeth. Even if it hadn’t worked out.
“I said,” Rose’s voice filled the basement, “what about Matthew’s daughter?”
“Oh.” Sarah shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “Well, we’re all going to Agate Beach.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re there.” As she grabbed the sledgehammer, she knocked over of an adjacent box. The silver sandals she’d worn when she married Ted fell out. “Damn it.” She picked up the left one, threw it back in the box, tossed the other one in, sealed the box and hauled it back onto the shelf. “Why do you keep all this stuff anyway?”
“Why did you send it back, anyway?” Rose mimicked her tone. “I’d assumed it had some significance to you.” She rubbed her hands together. “Well, I’m starving and it’s freezing down here.” She started up the stairs, Sarah following her. In the kitchen, she watched as Rose opened a can and dumped the contents into a bowl, which she then put in the microwave.
Sara picked up the empty can. “SpaghettiOs? You didn’t tell me you were having a dinner party.”
“Deanna enjoys them,” Rose said. “And so do I.”
“Yeah, why slave over a hot stove?” Sarah crossed her eyes at Deanna and the cat darted under the table.
“So.” Rose pulled out a chair and sat down. “Matthew won’t play. Now what?”
Sarah leaned against the sink. “Could you please not use that tone of voice? I am not ten and Matthew and I are not talking about building camps in the woods. To answer what I think was your question, Matthew isn’t interested in joining me, which means I have to look at other options.”
“You could make things a lot easier for yourself if you just called CMS tomorrow. Probably start work Monday.”
“No, thanks. I’d rather flip burgers.”
Rose shrugged. “Want to stay for dinner? I picked up some pad thai.”
“Antibiotics should clear it right up.”
Rose shook her head. “God, you’re like your father.”
“Actually, I meant to go to the library.” Sarah grabbed an envelope from the table, which was littered with newspapers, napkins with notes scrawled over them, grocery receipts and medical journals. Although Matthew had only mentioned tide pools, Agate Beach was also a great fossil-hunting area. Maybe Lucy would enjoy that. On the back of the envelope, she made a list of other things they’d need: crowbar, chisels, ice pick, a camera, tape measure. Notebooks, of course.
Glimpsing at the list, Rose inquired, “You’ll be gone for one month, or two?”
“Have you ever been fossil hunting?” Sarah asked.
“God, no.”
“Then don’t mock what you don’t understand.” She made a mental note to discuss rags, paper towels and newspapers to wrap the fossils in when she called Matthew later. “D’you think the library’s still open? I’d like to pick up a couple of books. Maps, too.”
“Why are you making such a production of this?” Rose asked. “She’s a kid. Take her to the beach, let her run around and call it a day.”
“This will be educational, as well as fun.”
“Maybe the girl would rather just have fun,” Rose said mildly. “By the way, I was also going through some of those old boxes.” She reached for something on top of the refrigerator, then handed Sarah a notebook. Across the front, carefully printed in neat black lettering, it read: Sarah Benedict’s Book of Ideal Qualities.
“Look at page one,” Rose directed her.
Sarah felt her face color. Under the heading Ideal Qualities of The Perfect Man it listed the qualities he should possess. Handsome, Friendly, Loyal and Trustworthy. She’d underlined trustworthy. In the back of the book, something Rose probably hadn’t discovered, was a small envelope glued to the last page. Inside was a picture of Matthew.
She looked up to find Rose watching her.
“By the way, chapter two lists the Ideal Qualities of a Perfect Mother,” Rose said. “Didn’t recognize myself anywhere.”
Sarah pushed her hair behind her ears. “Did you think you were perfect?”
“No,” Rose said. “In most families, there’s only room for one perfect individual. You’d clearly assumed that title, I decided not to fight it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELIZABETH SIPPED her margarita. She loved margaritas. George had taken her to Fidel’s, Port Hamilton’s only Mexican restaurant. The food wasn’t as good as the Mexican food she remembered from her childhood in L.A., but for Port Hamilton it was okay. Plus, after serving up food all day, it was nice having someone wait on her. And she really liked George. Enough that she’d started waiting for the phone to ring, obsessing about the weekends. He was a musician, too. She had this thing for musicians.
Where’s your daughter tonight?” he asked.
Elizabeth eyed him over the top of her glass. He had a goatee, which made him look slightly devilish. She liked devilish. “Sleeping at her best friend’s house. Then tomorrow, my ex is picking her up.”
George grinned. Under the table, she felt his foot touch hers. She smiled back even though the idea of taking her clothes off in front of him freaked her out. She’d turn off the lights, she decided. Light candles. Wear this long silky robe she’d picked up at Gottschalks. Get him drunk on champagne.
“So—” he was still smiling “—how’d your day go?”
“Pretty good. This friend, well, she isn’t really a friend…but we grew up together and then she went off to Central America. She’s a doctor.” She saw George’s eyes widen slightly, just like they had when they first met and she’d told him Matt was a doctor. “Anyway, she came into the restaurant. She didn’t know I worked there and…it was kind of nice. We had this long talk.”
George leaned back in his chair. Candlelight flickered on his face. “Yeah?”
“I was all bummed out about Lucy and…” She laughed. “It’s strange, I can’t even remember what Sarah said, but after she left, I felt a whole lot better.”
“Huh,” he said. “Interesting.”
“It was,” Elizabeth said, disappointed. People usually said interesting when they meant just the opposite. “Sarah’s…I mean, she’s not like me. She’s very smart.”
“You don’t think you’re smart?”
“Well.” She bit her lip. “I don’t think I’m not smart. It’s a different kind of smart, I guess.” She licked some of the salt off the rim of her glass. “She and my ex used to be good friends.”
“They’re both doctors,” George said. “They would be.”
“Even before that,” Elizabeth said. “It was as if they had this secret world together. They thought the same way, laughed at the same jokes. But they were just friends…”
“Right.” George smirked. “Typical chick thing to say. Guys are never just friends with women. They always want something.”
“I don’t think it was that way with them,” she said, but he was still smirking as if she was naive. “It’s hard to explain—”
“Is she attractive?”
Elizabeth considered. “Well, she’s…I don’t know. The intellectual type. No makeup, that sort of thing.” She drained her margarita. “That was good.”
“Want another one?” When she nodded, he waved his empty glass at the waitress. “She probably had the hots for your ex,” he said after he’d ordered more drinks. “But he went for the best-looking woman.”
“Thanks.” Elizabeth smiled. “I did used to be good-looking.”
“Still are,” George said. “You’re just carrying a few extra pounds, is all. I
like that. Can’t stand skin and bones.”
“Then you wouldn’t find Sarah attractive,” Elizabeth said.
“Probably wouldn’t.” He stared into her eyes. “So your daughter’s gone for a couple of days, huh?”
GEORGE WAS ALREADY IN BED and Elizabeth was in the bathroom wearing the silky robe and dabbing on perfume when the phone rang. She tied her belt, ran into the bedroom and answered it on the second ring.
“Lucy?”
“No. It’s Sarah. Sorry to call so late. I tried to call Matthew, but he was at the hospital. Anyway, we’re taking Lucy to Agate Beach tomorrow—”
“Fossils?” Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed where George was lying on top of the spread, naked. She felt his toes dig in under her thighs. She smiled at him, but moved farther away because it didn’t seem right to be doing that sort of thing while she was talking about Lucy.
“…anyway, I just wanted to make sure Lucy has boots.”
Elizabeth thought for a minute. “She’s got this cute pair with fake fur around the tops and—”
“We’re going to be in the water,” Sarah said. “Actually, I might have an old pair that would fit her. She’s about a size seven, right? If you have a pen, I also have a few other things she’ll need…”
Elizabeth tried to think where a pen might be. George’s toes had found the opening in her robe and were wriggling around in a sensitive area. She frowned at him, although she really didn’t want him to stop. “Okay, found one,” she lied. “Go ahead.”
Later, as Elizabeth snuggled up to George’s back—he’d started snoring five minutes after he pulled out—Elizabeth couldn’t stop thinking about Sarah and how upset she’d been about whatever it was she’d said to Matthew. The difference between Sarah and herself was that she herself was like some uncomplicated kid’s toy, wind it up and it chugs merrily along, but Sarah was like a difficult jigsaw puzzle. You always had to look at little pieces from different angles trying to fit them into the picture. Sometimes you’d think a piece was going to fit and you’d try to make it fit, but it wouldn’t and you’d get frustrated and want to just knock the whole thing to the floor.
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