Charlotte Evenson’s gray eyes glittered like diamond chips as they surveyed Amanda from her bandage-free ankle to her new, more stylish uniform. She spoke with a knowing smirk. “So you’ve done it. Earned a seat of honor here in the hub.”
They were standing together behind the clinic’s check-in counter on Monday morning. Amanda took a moment to gaze back at the file room where she’d been trapped all of last week. “Hardly seems that momentous a journey, rolling my stool from in there to out here.”
“Don’t underestimate the trip, my girl,” Charlotte bellowed. “By crossing that threshold, you have entered phase two of your training. Understand that coming in direct contact with our patients is no small matter. Clerks seated in the hub have a huge responsibility. We are the clinic’s official greeters, the first call for help, the Mother Earth of Medicine.”
Amanda was startled by the daunting job description. “Medical training isn’t required, is it?”
“Not officially. Though after years in the game, I do see myself as an unsung member of the team. Competent without any sort of recognized license.”
Never especially good with even a small cut or bruise, Amanda felt her usual bravado failing her. “Maybe I don’t have what it takes after all.”
“Well, the docs say you do. They’ve made it abundantly clear.” She heaved a tremendous sigh. “I got you through phase one, so there’s nothing for it but for me to pull you through phase two, as well.”
“Where does phase two begin exactly?”
Charlotte patted her stiff yellow hair cloud. She seemed genuinely bewildered. “Not sure. Never had to carry on past phase one before. Always managed to crack my novices during the first week with a variety of grunt work. Sometimes it took a day or two. Three at the most. Guess the Pearson girl hung on a whole week. But in the end she found a higher-paying, less-demanding position at Ludlum Attorneys-At-Law.” Her aged face pinched craftily. “Don’t know how those lawyers got hold of her glowing résumé so fast.”
“Gee, I wonder.” Amanda regarded Charlotte with the dubiety she deserved.
“But none of those tricks are up my sleeve now. Jack vowed to fire me if I didn’t slow down a bit, get my blood pressure back under control. And I can tell he means it this time.”
The phone rang then. With a practiced motion Charlotte whirled to scoop up the receiver and punched the blinking button on the console. “Fairlane Clinic. Hello, Tracy. Doc Graham? What do you wish to speak to him about? I figured it was the baby, but what about her? Crying all the time? It’s probably out of pain, yes. Painful gas. You know nursing is a big responsibility. You drinking caffeine after Doc told you not to? How about eating tacos? Don’t try and lie to me, young lady. You were seen at the Skyline Café shoveling in all sorts of junk. Never mind how I know. In any case, Doc can’t come to the phone right now, he’s with a patient. Take my word on Suzy’s condition. I can hear the crying in the background and it sounds like gas pains. Sure, there’s different kinds of cries. Short sharp screams mean, ‘Gas, my mommy’s eating junk.’ Yes, rest assured I will tell him you called.”
Amanda gasped as Charlotte hung up the phone. “That’s how you handle things?”
Charlotte snapped her fingers. “Nothin’ to it.”
“How do you know so much about babies’ cries?”
“Read an article about it last year in Family Circle magazine. But it doesn’t matter where or when I got the scoop. All that matters is that I know the right thing at the right time.”
“Wow. Never in my life have I heard a receptionist do more than direct calls, take messages, make appointments.”
“That’s impersonal big-city procedure to a tee.”
“Well, yes. But is there that much difference here in a small town?”
“Sure there is! It would be ridiculous to stand on ceremony around here, where there’s only so much time for so many needs. If I allowed all calls to go through to the docs, they’d fall behind in their appointments. It’s my duty and pleasure to assist callers like Tracy.”
Amanda knew her jaw was hanging open.
“You will have to work hard if you want to live up to that new jazzy uniform of yours. The docs have no concept of what I do for them each and every day. They see me as nothing more than an overworked clerk.” She held up a fat palm as Amanda began to speak. “Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying the job is impossible to learn. I’m just saying that it takes time and dedication. That you will have to study my moves extra hard.”
“I happen to be reasonably intelligent and friendly,” Amanda said.
“Even you gotta admit you didn’t catch on to my filing system right off. But I agree that you do have a winning personality, which will take you a long way. And you make Doc Hanson so happy. He was grinning at me like some kind of dope last Monday all the while he and Jack were chewing me out for stashing you in the file room. I was smiling myself, all the while I was yelling back about the crummy job you were doing. But all of that is water under the bridge.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’ll be fine. Throw yourself into the job heart and soul.”
“Watch and learn?”
“Precisely.”
The front door opened and a balding middle-aged man in a garage mechanic’s uniform ambled in and over to the counter. “Afternoon, ladies.”
“Hello, Timothy.”
His voice dropped a notch. “I’m picking up something. From Doc Graham.”
Charlotte shuffled to a wide wooden cupboard, opened it and pawed through a plastic basket of brown envelopes. She pulled one out, broke the envelope’s seal, appeared to verify its contents, then brought it to the counter. “So you decided to try Viagra. I suppose this means that Vicki won’t be available for the bowling league on Thursday nights anymore. I mean—” she intimated in a stage-like hush “—I recall that Thursday night was always your night for nookie. Before you hit the rough spot.”
Timothy gritted his teeth. “I’m sure that’s our own business.”
“I’d agree if we hadn’t changed our bowling schedule from Tuesdays to Thursdays in the first place so you two could take dance lessons of the Latin rhythm flavor to rekindle the dying flames of your marriage. All I’m saying is, I suppose now you’ll still be dancing on Tuesdays and having a bit of the nookie again on Thursdays, clogging up two whole nights.”
“I’ll tell Vicki about your concerns,” he said tightly. “I’m sure something can be worked out with your bowling league.”
“Would appreciate it. We’re playing the Portland Roundabouts next week. They’re especially tough and nobody picks up a spare like Vicki.”
Looking lost for words, Timothy snatched the envelope, turned on his heel and marched out.
“There walks another healing soul on my watch,” Charlotte declared with wistful modesty. “Vicki confided to the team about Timothy’s performance problems. And who but I would be in a position to tell her that the clinic gives out samples of Viagra? ‘Why not give it a test drive?’ I said. ‘All he needs is Jack’s okay.’ And mind you, I did all of this knowing it would most likely screw up bowling something awful.”
Amanda gaped. “Amazing again.”
“Thank you.” The words suggested a brisk dismissal as Charlotte turned her back on her to sift through phone messages.
“So what, exactly, do you want me to do here?” Amanda pressed.
Charlotte looked around and scratched her cheek. “We could use some fresh coffee in the break room. The urn could actually do with a scrub.”
“Charlotte…” Brett’s deep voice rumbled behind them. As he appeared around the corner of the hallway, it was highly likely that he had been eavesdropping for at least a moment or two.
Amanda’s heart skipped a beat as it always did at the sight of Brett in cool physician mode, with a crisp white lab coat over a white shirt and dark slacks, stethoscope hanging casually around his neck, black hair clipped short, handsome face arranged in supreme confidence.
“Oh! Morning, Doc.” Charlotte suddenly looked like a child with her hand stuck in the cookie jar.
“Just thought I’d pop out to see how things are going.”
Charlotte shrugged. “Well, I have to admit, Mandy’s uniform is very nice. Maybe I’ve been an old fogey about hanging on to these old nylon numbers. Any chance of outfitting all of us the same way?”
With ill-concealed impatience, Brett cut to the chase. “Are you going to give Mandy responsibilities or not?”
“Of course I am. Just know,” she muttered, “how important the coffee is to everyone.”
“I washed the urn myself this morning.”
“Oh.”
“I will speak to Jack about more new uniforms, when I tell him how smoothly this transition is going out here.”
“Fair enough.”
“So what is Mandy’s first order of business?”
“Well…”
“What do you do when you arrive?” Brett pressed.
“First thing, I go over the appointment book and jot down the names of the patients scheduled to come in.”
“Then?” Brett prodded.
“I go and collect those files out of the file room.”
Brett handed their protégé a pen and pad of paper. Amanda dutifully moved to the open book lying on the counter and began to jot down the names.
“You can’t take forever doing this task,” Charlotte warned. “The patients will be streaming in soon.”
“Not a problem.” Amanda smiled sweetly. “I know the files very well now.”
“Then what happens?” Brett asked.
Charlotte sighed loudly. “She brings the files out here and arranges them in order of appointment.”
“Do I separate them by doctor?”
“Hells bells, this isn’t ER. Sometimes the patients don’t even have a choice of doctor if something comes up.” As Brett opened his mouth to speak again, Charlotte went on, standing beside her trainee. “So the files get stacked in this basket. When a patient arrives, you take their file, open it, check to see if their insurance information is up-to-date, ask for any co-pay listed.” Charlotte walked over to a file rack hanging on the wall near the corridor leading to the exam rooms. “A nurse will come out and check the rack and lead the patient back to a room.”
“And when the telephone rings…”
Charlotte glared at Brett. “She isn’t going near that telephone until I think she’s ready. Now for the sake of time, I suggest you get your girlfriend sashaying back for those files!”
Alone with Brett in the file room, Amanda leaned against him. “Shoot me now.”
He pressed a consolatory hand to her back. “It isn’t that bad.”
“How can you lie like that?”
“Charlotte will get used to you.”
“I should live that long.”
“I do admit she’ll probably outlive us all.”
“I want you to know I’m not accustomed to being pushed around this way! People generally…look up to me.”
She watched him struggle for a comeback. “Well, you really skunked her by learning her nutty file system.”
“Wowee.” She tipped her face to his. “You know, I have the feeling I could find a more pleasant job along Main Street.”
He tapped her nose. “You could. But then you wouldn’t get to spend the day close to me.”
“O-oh, you’re one clever healer.” Amanda glanced at the first name on her list. “Geringer. He a patient of yours or Jack’s?”
“Jack’s.” Brett watched her move to Jack’s bank of files. “Care to go out for lunch today, just the two of us?”
Amanda opened a drawer and thumbed through the file tabs. “Sounds wonderful. But Beatrice is dropping by the clinic. We’re going to work a little on the book.”
“But you were working on it last night, as well.”
“Only for a few hours.”
“Primetime hours. I normally count on Beatrice to be in the living room to vote on HBO’s Sunday lineup along with Della and me. Frank and Colonel Geoff voted for the History Channel and won a tie breaker on the flip of a coin.” Brett rolled his eyes. “How many times can a man enjoy black-and-white footage of soldiers invading Normandy?”
“I’m afraid I’m having too much fun with Beatrice to stop the creative flow now.” The excuse popped out of Amanda’s mouth before she could censor it. Upon reflection, she discovered she really meant it.
“All right. But with my luck you two will write a bestseller, go on tour, sell the movie rights and never be seen again.”
She touched the collar of his lab coat. “Would that trouble you, Doc?”
“Well, sure. There is my HBO to consider.”
Amanda gasped in mock outrage. “Aren’t you in a joking mood today?”
Brett pulled her out of view to give her a quick kiss. “We’re no joke and I know it,” he said softly.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to outwit, outlast and out-play Charlotte on the front lines.”
“My sweet, brave girl.” He kissed her again. Longer.
Charlotte eventually stuck her head in the door. “How cutesy. I’ll just tell Professor Geringer all about it as he sits out front nursing his kidney stones, waiting to check in. Without his file at the ready.”
Meekly, Amanda held out the man’s file. Charlotte marched over, grabbed it and left.
Beatrice hustled into the clinic about noon with a tote slung over her shoulder, wearing a floral shirtwaist, one of her dozen or so similar library frocks. The staff was just assembling in the waiting room to take off for lunch. To Amanda’s chagrin, Rochelle Owens was the designated person to stay behind to handle any emergencies. She’d forgotten Rochelle and Beatrice were cousins, until Beatrice asked after Rochelle’s parents, currently vacationing in Hawaii. The pair giggled over Rochelle’s report on her mother’s embarrassing first hula lesson, at which she’d accidentally wiggled out of her sarong, and her father’s snorkeling adventure that turned wild when some fish that might have been a tuna started chasing him.
Amanda didn’t want to see a softer side to the rock-hearted Rochelle. But plainly it existed, and it made the nurse seem more fragile, more human.
Rochelle did turn back to stone minutes later, however, as she addressed her. “Are you going to work at the Lego table where you and Brett like to lunch? Or in back? I want to be near the phones and intend to eat behind Charlotte’s counter.”
Amanda could see that Beatrice was rather upset by Rochelle’s rudeness, so she made light of it. “Those darn building blocks are too big a distraction. We’ll go back in the break room. C’mon, Beatrice.”
As the pair seated themselves at a small wooden table, Beatrice opened her tote bag and unloaded a notebook bearing the working title City Girl on the cover, pens, and a sack containing two buns wrapped in cellophane and some homemade cookies.
Hungry, Amanda eagerly took a sandwich. “Looks like Della’s work.”
“She was so happy to hear about our brainstorming lunch, she whipped this up.” Beatrice’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I think part of it is that she knows you probably can’t afford a lunch. And today Doc wouldn’t have the chance to buy you one.”
Amanda hated this part of the charade, pretending she couldn’t afford things. But for the time being she was trapped in her own lies.
Beatrice opened their fat, dog-eared notebook. “So, Mandy, have you given any thought to my character of Stanley, our city girl’s sexy but quite inappropriate neighbor?”
“Yes. I suggest we call him Stefan however. The name Stanley is sort of old-fashioned.”
“But he is fiftyish, with gray at the temples. I’ve always found the name of Stanley quite appealing. Went to the prom with a Stanley.”
Amanda smiled patiently, thinking how short a time Beatrice would last in the brash newsroom of her father’s Manhattan Monitor with her delicate sensibilities. “The thief is international, though, right? The name Stefan suggests a continental background—more so than Stanley, anyway.”
Beatrice bit the tip of her pen, flipping to the character’s information page. “Perhaps you’re right. My Stanley did end up working in the hardware store. As fond as I still am of him, he doesn’t conjure up the necessary exotic image.” She studiously changed his name in her notes.
“If Stefan were closer to thirty, he could still easily manage second-story work.”
“Yes!” Beatrice beamed, changing his age, crossing out his gray temples. “That might be a nice subplot. Stefan is still stealing jewels. Maybe he wants to steal our heroine’s jewels.”
“Or steal a jewel for her. One that her family lost during a bankruptcy.”
“Brilliant!” Beatrice flipped back to her outline and scribbled.
Amanda realized with the jewel reference she was stealing a bit from Ivy’s predicament with her jeweler family, but it was her understanding that novelists stole bits and pieces from real life all the time.
“So have you considered my offer, Mandy? We hash out all the details. Then I do the first draft and you polish it up afterward?”
“Have you given our heroine’s name further thought? We can’t call her City Girl forever.”
“Have you come up with any possible names?”
“I think Laverne sounds rather exotic. It’s Rochelle’s mother’s name.”
Amanda frowned at the mention of the nurse. “Rochelle already has problems with me. I’d rather not upset her by using that name. How about the name Leah instead? It’s timeless.”
“Very well.” Beatrice scribbled it down. “I’m sorry to see that you and Rochelle aren’t hitting it off.”
“I didn’t do anything to her!” Amanda said a bit more sharply than she meant to.
“I’m sure you didn’t. It’s Brett’s feelings for you that makes her angry.”
Amanda rose from her chair and went to the small refrigerator to get them drinks. Finding only diet cola, she brought back two bottles. “This all right?”
“Yes, thanks.” Beatrice busily opened her bottle. “Everyone knows that Brett isn’t a match for my cousin. In a way, I’m glad you came along. Maybe now she’ll stop dreaming about him and look for someone else.”
“Are you looking for yourself?” Amanda couldn’t help asking.
“Me? I’m fifty-one and chubby. No, Rochelle is much younger and quite lovely when she smiles. She still has what it takes to make a dream relationship come true.”
“You are beautiful, too, Beatrice.”
Beatrice blushed. “I can see you are suited to writing fiction.” But plainly, she was flattered.
“BRETT!” Jack Graham barged into his partner’s office Wednesday afternoon, his face lit up like a boy’s. “It’s all happening! Right now!”
Seated behind his desk, Brett gazed up from the medical journal he was studying. “We on fire?”
“Yes, man, we are.” Jack beckoned for Brett to follow and shot off.
Brett followed Jack through the maze of corridors to the front office space, where Rochelle and Kaitlyn were crouched in the nook used to prepare patient preliminaries. Taking their fingers pressed to their lips as a signal for silence, he eased into the nook along with Jack. From their vantage point they had a clear view of the counter, as well as Charlotte and Mandy.
“I don’t know about this. I just don’t know.”
“Charlotte, this is your own doing.”
Charlotte whisked a nylon scarf over her head only to whisk it off again. “This is the first time I’ve ever gone to the beauty parlor on a weekday during business hours.”
“I didn’t tell you to make the appointment.”
“Nor would I have listened to you if you had. It was my pesky grandson, hinting that my dye job of Tuesday night hasn’t given my hair its usual golden tones.” Charlotte pulled a hand mirror out of her purse. “Come back to the rest room with me and help me get a better look at the back of my head.”
Mandy stood her ground. “I refuse to go through that again. You keep saying the mirror’s too small and the lighting inferior.”
“You’ve been no help at all. None of you office girls have.”
“If you can’t leave your post to fix the problem, so be it.”
Charlotte thrust a finger at her. “Aha! So you admit I have a hair problem!”
“It might be a little uneven in places. I’m no judge.”
“Appears so, with that funny hair color you use.” Mandy gasped, but Charlotte didn’t even seem to notice. “I should be gone a total of two hours at most. Still, that is a long time for a rookie to be on her own.” She surveyed her protégé with a click of her tongue.
“Hey, I know,” Mandy said brightly. “I simply won’t do a thing while you’re gone. I won’t check in patients or answer the phone. I’ll save it all for you. Until you return with the right color hair.”
Charlotte flashed her a deadly smile. “If you weren’t the doc’s squeeze, I’d be sorely tempted to drop you to the mat right here and now.”
Mandy smiled. “Then you’d be late for your appointment, because I’d put up a heck of a struggle.”
“All right then. Must admit you don’t seem to have a case of nerves or anything. You should do nicely.” Charlotte took her purse off the counter. “Just don’t let the power go to your head.” With a huff, she was out the door.
Brett wasn’t surprised when the staff in the nook began to exchange quiet high-fives and soft cheers.
“We did it!”
“Charlotte actually left someone else at the helm.”
Jack nudged Brett with an elbow. “Mandy played her perfectly.”
“Let’s hope she can deliver now,” Rochelle said.
The foursome remained motionless as Jacob Sanderson walked in the door. Brett so badly wanted Mandy to make him proud. His pulse jumped as she sat at Charlotte’s chair, reached for his file, on the top of the afternoon stack, and noted that Jacob was in for an allergy shot. They all sighed in relief as she efficiently buzzed the lab to let them know they had a patient waiting and directed Jacob to take a seat.
Four minutes or so passed and the telephone rang. They watched as she picked it up.
“Fairlane Clinic. Yes, Mrs. Bloom is still here. All right, I’ll tell her.” She deposited the receiver back on its cradle and peered into the waiting area where a few patients sat reading magazines. “Mrs. Bloom, that was the pharmacy,” she called out in a very Charlotte-like bellow. “Your ointment for that armpit rash is ready for pickup!”
With sagging mouths the foursome watched Mrs. Bloom launch herself out of her chair and over to the desk. “Of all the nerve! That sort of grandstand play was uncalled for, Miss Smythe.”
“But I—”
“Now everyone will figure out that I sprayed shoe deodorizer on myself in the dark by mistake!” With that she stormed out.
Before Brett could think, react properly, his colleagues were nearly rolling out of the nook with laughter. He could only follow them to the counter. And watch a startled Mandy take her hits.
Rochelle was the first to speak between gulps of laughter. “Good grief, Mandy!” was all she could say before her funny bone was struck again.
With hands on hips, Mandy scanned them all. “What is the matter with that patient? With all of you?”
Jack cleared his throat. “Mandy, you are following in Charlotte’s footsteps a little closer than we expected. A little too close.”
“There is certain protocol that should be followed,” Kaitlyn attempted to explain. “That Charlotte has always ignored.”
Brett saw his own doom coming the moment Mandy’s innocent eyes locked with his. He tried hard, ever so hard, to keep a straight face. But in the end he couldn’t. He began to crack up, too. Laughter bubbled forth from his gut until it ached.
“What am I doing wrong?” she shouted.
Attempting to control his mirth by biting his tongue, Brett took her back to his private office to tell her.
“Of course I know it’s silly—stupid, even—to shout out personal business.” She paced in agitation.
“Have you ever been in a clinic where it happens?”
“I told you from the start that confidentiality is paramount.”
“You said nothing leaves this clinic. Even Charlotte supported that statement. I just thought this hollering practice was some sort of small-town peculiarity.” She glared at him. “The least you could have done was to have been totally honest about why you were trying to replace her. If I’d have known it was because her manners are offensive, I wouldn’t have repeated her mistakes.”
“That was our quandary. You deserved to have the whole picture, but given it we feared you’d chicken out.”
She nodded knowingly. “Like the rookies before me. I heard from her own lips how she managed to scare off each and every one.”
“With her awful reputation, you can see why we tapped you, an innocent newcomer. Without Charlotte’s reputation to intimidate you, we figured you’d have a better chance of matching wits with her. And it worked!” Brett grinned.
“All this trickery. I wonder if any of it is fair to Charlotte. She is brassy, but she is also sincere.”
“Don’t ever worry about that old gal. Our larger goal has been to gradually ease someone into her receptionist seat, then in time, offer her an entirely different job with the billing department, make it out as a promotion, which in fact it will be. As it is, we farm out that work and would prefer to have it done in-house. It would be a better deal for her, with shorter hours, more pay and no contact with patients concerning their medical conditions. With you ready and capable to take over, we expect she will soon cooperate.”
“It would have been nice to survive the test with my dignity.”
“Oh, c’mon, we were just having some fun. And Mrs. Bloom’s ailment wasn’t highly personal or sensitive. I intend to have a word with her—”
“I’ll do that myself. And set the blame where it belongs!”
“You should try and laugh at yourself more, Mandy.”
She tilted her chin. “I’m not accustomed to doing that.”
“Give it a try anyway.”
“Give me a break. You couldn’t even chuckle over Ivy allowing Tess to paint you in polka-dot boxers.”
Brett bit his lip. “I guess we both could learn to relax a bit more.”
There was a knock on the door and Kaitlyn popped in. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for my break. We need you out front again, Mandy. If you don’t mind.”
She looked at Kaitlyn’s sweet merry face, then Brett’s, and gave in to her own laughter.
Kaitlyn held the door open for her. “Don’t let Rochelle bother you. I think she’s going to ride this for all it’s worth.”
Brett wasn’t surprised when Mandy swiveled on her heel to level a significant stare at him. “Doc Hanson has been planning to have a word with her about a lot of things. Haven’t you, Doc?”
“Yes.” He spoke up to confirm, “Let her know I’d like to see her when she’s free.”
Brett would have rather had a cavity filled than have The Talk with Rochelle. But judging by her recent treatment of Mandy, it had become necessary to set her straight on their relationship.
The lanky redhead was quite cheery as she entered his office without knocking. “Wasn’t that scene priceless?”
“Sit down a minute, Rochelle.” Brett was leaning against the front of his desk, as he had been during his meeting with Mandy, but he was standing taller now.
Rochelle took a chair and leaned forward alertly. “What is it? Something the matter?”
“Well…” He sighed deeply.
“I think I get it. Mandy’s singled me out for laughing at her.”
Brett rubbed his chin. “Mandy herself has decided to see the humor in what happened. And I must say, Jack and I are mostly to blame for not telling her in the first place what parts of Charlotte’s training might be wrong.”
“But any fool—”
“Cut it short right there.” His curt tone startled her into silence. “When you berate Mandy, you are not only berating a fellow employee, but also somebody I care deeply about.”
She extended her lower lip in a pout. “Oh, I see.”
“I wouldn’t be making this so personal between us if you weren’t suddenly pushing so hard.”
“Why, I never!”
“Rochelle, you’ve always been pretty territorial where I’m concerned.”
“We’re good friends!”
“Yes. Friends but never lovers. There is a very distinct line there that I’ve always known I’d never cross. As friendly as I’ve been, I really believe I’ve never given you false encouragement.”
She grew more agitated. “Have I ever complained? Demanded more?”
“Not to my face. But the way you confronted Mandy at the Blue Parrot leaves me no choice but to set the record straight once and for all.”
His comment clearly startled her. “I did overreact that night. I shouldn’t have said the things I said.”
“If nothing else, it’s given me a clearer view of your intentions. As it stood, I always hoped you were reasonably satisfied with our friendship. But now that I’ve found happiness with Mandy, we need clearer lines drawn between us. I can’t have you punishing Mandy because I care about her. Beyond the obvious pain you’d be causing her, it would destroy our office dynamics, which you must admit, have been wonderful.”
“I do realize I’ve put much of myself into what you call office dynamics. But I love my job. The challenges of medicine mean the world to me—as they do to you.” She hung her head. “Guess I’ve always thought we’d make a remarkable team.”
“On paper, it does look good,” he admitted gently. “I respect and like you. But somehow, the chemistry never hit me.”
“If only you’d given us some effort, a fair chance!”
Annoyed with her stubbornness, his voice grew firmer. “The initial spark between a man and a woman should never need work. That comes later,” he added with a smile, “when the relationship deepens and kids are crying and pots are boiling over.”
She rose, looking wistful. “I never thought you’d confront me this way, given your quiet nature. Thought I’d be able to sort of nurse my dream indefinitely.”
Brett pushed away from his desk. “It’ll be good for all of us, especially you, to move on.” His hand instinctively moved to touch her arm. In midair, however, he thought the better of it and raked his hair instead. She noticed and frowned.
“If that’s all, we have patients.”
“Yes, that’s all. Except that I hope you’ll give some of the other non-medical guys in town a chance. Men are crazy about redheads you know.”
“Ha. You aren’t.” With an eye roll, she departed.
About an hour later, his internal line rang. It was Mandy.
“I would have called sooner, but it’s been crazy out here. How did it go with Rochelle?”
“Nobody died.”
“She going to lay off me?”
“If she’s smart,” he replied.
“What exactly did you say?”
“Basically, that there never could be anything romantic between us.”
“She accept it?” Mandy asked.
“I think so. Have plans for tonight?”
“Dinner at the boarding house.”
“Great.”
“Oh, boy.”
“What?”
“Charlotte is back. With copper-colored hair.”