Just What the Doctor Ordered

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “The infamous extra brother? The paragon of fun you’ve talked about incessantly since I first met you?”

  “That would be Ivan,” she said happily.

  “Ivan, huh?” He took her elbow and turned her back in the direction she’d come, his gesture feeling somehow more proper than impromptu. “I’m looking forward to meeting him…finally.”

  “Good, because I’m about to introduce you.”

  But it was Miranda who did the honors, who stood there beside the sofa watching with a pleased smile as the two men shook hands, exchanged pleasantries. Ainsley watched, not entirely happy about the polite, assessing way they each sized up the other.

  “You work with the Foundation, too?” Ivan asked when that bit of information arose in the conversation. “In what area?”

  “I’m in finance. The allocation, bookkeeping and auditing arenas. I have my hands on just about every dollar that flows through the organization.” He paused, gave a short laugh. “Figuratively speaking, of course.”

  “Sounds like a big job.”

  Bucky’s smile erred on the side of self-importance. On occasion, Ainsley felt he took a little too much pride in his position. It wasn’t anything bad, really, probably nothing more than that age-old which-one-will-be-alpha-dog question men seemed to sometimes feel needed to be answered. But it bothered Ainsley tonight. Ivan was a member of the family. Not someone Bucky had to impress.

  “I do have a lot of responsibility,” Bucky said. “It’s my job to ensure the work of The Danville Foundation is funded day after day, year after year.”

  “Well, it’s good to know who holds the purse strings in any organization.” Ivan smiled easily. “I may as well warn you now that you’ll be seeing a lot of me. You’ll probably get sick of seeing me, in fact, because I know the new pediatric center is going to need additional funding on a regular basis.”

  Bucky laughed. “The center is very well funded already…and it isn’t even open to the public yet.”

  “The costs of research are constantly escalating and that doesn’t even touch the rising operational needs involved in caring for children with life-threatening diseases.”

  Bucky’s solid shoulders squared another half-inch. “I strive to be fair, Ivan, but you have to understand that no one area of the Foundation’s work can have every dollar they ask for. We do have to live within our budget.”

  “Or get a bigger budget,” Ivan said, winking at Ainsley.

  “I should probably warn you—” Bucky continued “—that the family depends on my judgment, and my recommendations are given serious consideration by the board. It’s my job to make sure we stay within our budget and, frankly, it doesn’t matter one iota to me if you’re on friendly terms with the director or not.”

  Ivan shifted his stance, but maintained an easy, unthreatened smile. “Matt is my best friend. His family is as important to me as my own. And I’ve never yet stepped on a friendship to get what I want.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t saying you’d take advantage. I just thought you ought to know where I stand right from the start.” Bucky laughed, ready—eager even—to correct Ivan. “I don’t take advantage of my relationship with Ainsley, either. Just because we’re engaged doesn’t mean I expect, or receive, special consideration.”

  “We’re not engaged,” Ainsley said, startled by Bucky’s sudden claim.

  “Engaged to be engaged,” Bucky said, shrugging away her protest, keeping his focus on Ivan. “When you’re a little more knowledgeable about the many facets of the Foundation’s work, Ivan, you’ll understand why I’m sometimes forced to say no.” He reached for Ainsley’s hand in an obviously territorial move. “Would you get me a soda, darling?” he asked. “I’m parched.”

  “Of course.” She withdrew her hand, wanting nothing more than to send him home without a drink or even a bite of dinner. She didn’t know why she’d invited him in the first place. Tonight should have been just for family.

  “Your extra brother seems like a nice enough fellow.” Bucky followed her across the room, watched amiably as she poured him a drink. “A little on the idealistic side, but I imagine he’ll figure out the way things work pretty fast.”

  “Yes,” she said, not even trying to keep the testiness out of her voice. “But then it is idealism that has formed the mission of the Foundation since its inception.”

  Bucky’s eyebrows went up. “I wasn’t criticizing him, Ainsley. You’re a little touchy tonight, aren’t you?”

  “That could be because you just announced our engagement as if it was official. We’re not engaged, Bucky. You haven’t asked and I haven’t answered. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “We’ve talked about getting married in a year or two,” he argued reasonably. “I don’t see why we have to pretend otherwise just because you have some old-fashioned idea it’s not right for you to marry before your older sister does.”

  Ainsley sighed. She’d never said that…exactly. She’d just shaped Bucky’s perspective slightly because she wasn’t sure she didn’t intend to marry him. In a few years. After she’d proven herself as a matchmaker. After she’d grown tired of being independent. When she was ready to settle down to being a wife. But at times he pushed too hard. So she’d implied, without actually saying it, that her family felt her sister should be the first to wed.

  “If I had my way, Miranda would marry Ivan and he could be my brother for real,” she said, absentmindedly.

  Bucky frowned at her over his soda. “You can’t be serious. She’s completely out of his league.”

  “I don’t think so,” Ainsley said in a frosty voice. “I think they’re perfect for each other. How can you look at them and not see that?”

  “Easy. He’s not her type.”

  “Says who?” Ainsley thought they looked perfect together. Two beautiful people. A matched set, standing side by side. Miranda was tall enough to look regal beside his large powerful build. Her cool, champagne coloring and blue, blue eyes looked natural and right next to his dark blond, brown-eyed warmth. They had complementary personalities. Ivan would add sparkle to her life. She would handle all the little details of what was about to become a very complicated life for him. Together, they’d strike the right balance for a happily ever after.

  Ainsley knew all of this in her matchmaker’s heart…and she couldn’t do a single thing about it.

  Not at the moment, anyway.

  Not even if some matchmaking emergency arose. Not even if she thought three weeks was too long to wait.

  In a month, the new pediatric center would open and Ivan would be caught up in the constant, demanding and heartrending work of the Foundation. He’d have no time or inclination for romance then, much less any opportunity to discover his true soul mate. He’d have no energy left over to explore possibilities for his own life. Ainsley could see a time—not too far off—when The Danville Foundation would consume him, would become his whole life, his heart and soul…just as it was for her parents. She could too easily imagine him lost to her in all the ways that really counted.

  And she was determined not to let that happen.

  If that was selfish…well, so be it. She didn’t want to stop him from doing what he’d always hoped and planned and dreamed of doing. That would destroy s
omething fine and wonderful inside him. She didn’t even want to keep him from working for The Danville Foundation, if that’s what brought him peace.

  She just wanted to keep him as he was now. Alive to the possibilities of his own life as well as intent on saving the lives of others.

  Bucky finished his drink and set the empty glass on the bar. “If you think it’s a match, then who am I to argue? After all, you’re the matchmaker-in-training. I’m just a glorified bean counter.”

  Normally that would have been Ainsley’s cue to assure him his job was important, necessary, meaningful, that his modesty was misplaced. But tonight she felt strongly that her own job was the important one. The future of two of the people she loved most in the world might very well be in her hands.

  She had faithfully promised she wouldn’t do anything even remotely resembling matchmaking until Ilsa had returned and could supervise and consult.

  But that didn’t mean she had to stand back, wringing her hands for the next three weeks, while the opportunity to introduce some special possibilities evaporated.

  The art of matchmaking was the art of finding out everything possible about a client, studying the likes, the dislikes, the beliefs, the secrets, everything it was possible to discover, and then watching for the spark that signaled opportunity. In this instance, she already knew more about Ivan and her sister than she would ever need to know about a client before introducing the possibility of a match. But there was no rule that said she couldn’t offer Ivan some subtle coaching on how best to court Miranda when the time came.

  He didn’t have to know what she was doing. In fact, it was probably best if he didn’t.

  “Ainsley?” Bucky’s voice interrupted her planning. “Would you mind fixing me another drink?”

  “Certainly,” she said, reaching for the carafe of ice water, her mind still very much occupied elsewhere.

  He stayed her hand just in time. “I’m drinking soda,” he reminded her. “What’s going on inside that pretty little head of yours? What can be distracting you from paying attention to the man you’re going to marry…someday?”

  She didn’t rise to the bait, didn’t want her thoughts sidetracked by having to lodge another protest. “Work,” she replied, as she reached for the soda bottle. “I’m thinking about my work.”

  “That could be dangerous.”

  Just then, from the far side of the room, she heard Ivan laughing. His deep, true baritone warmed her, and her high spirits returned in a bubbly rush. “Not if I do it correctly,” she said with a sassy smile.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As Matt pulled into a parking space in front of the new pediatric center, Ivan’s pulse raced faster with excitement. The building was broad, low and appealingly solid. It was red brick, a traditional three-story structure set back out of easy view from the highway and, at first glance, looked more like an old elementary school than a hospital. There were lots of windows across the sturdy front, which gave an open, inviting look to the whole building…a little like an upside-down and oblong smiley face. The Danville Foundation did nothing by halves, and Ivan knew that behind those walls lay every available modern medical advancement to ensure this facility was state of the art from the first moment the doors opened.

  He was happy they’d kept the basic design simple and child-friendly. It was a small detail, perhaps, in the overall planning, but an important one for the children who would soon be patients here. Removing the mystery from medical treatment was always one of Ivan’s primary objectives. His patients were scared enough as it was without adding a dark, foreboding facility into the mix.

  “This is great,” he said as he and Matt stepped out of the car.

  “Welcome to the Jonathan Danville Children’s Research Center,” Matt said. “Your new home away from home. At least it will be in a little over a month, when it opens.”

  Ivan took a deep breath and just stood still a moment, fighting a curious mix of elation and anticipation. “This is great,” he repeated. “Great.”

  Matt laughed. “There’s still a great deal to be done before the opening. As you can see, they’ve barely started on the landscaping. There’ll be topiary all along the front walk and meditation gardens accessible from either side of the wings. We wanted the grounds to be sheltered, but welcoming enough that families will feel free to seek out a small space of privacy and peace when necessary. It’s difficult to tell from this—” his hand gestured at the lawn that was still mainly construction site and dirt “—but Miranda did an outstanding job with the landscape design.”

  “She always does an outstanding job,” Ivan agreed, still staring at the building itself as his throat tightened with pride and pure raw emotion. The center was such a massive, magnificent undertaking. It would have a positive impact on so many children, so many families. And he would be a part of that. He could hardly believe it, still. If there had been a facility such as this available to Emma, it could have made all the difference. Her life might not have been saved, but she would have been spared some of the suffering and indignity of her illness. At the very least, a place like this could have soothed his parents’ grief and anxiety, lightened their load, and maybe—just maybe—kept his family from crumbling into unrecognizable pieces.

  “This is great,” he said again, then grinned at Matt. “I guess it’s fair to say I’m impressed.”

  “That was a foregone conclusion.” Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, let me take you on the VIP tour.”

  They approached the building on a newly poured sidewalk and Ivan took it all in, tried to see the wide glass doors the way a child would, imagined how his little patients would feel as they stepped or were wheeled inside the bright, open lobby. The windows were lightly tinted against glare, which gave the reception area a warm, sunny feel. The lobby was painted a bright blend of colors, with seascape murals on the main walls. Child-size chairs were nestled in with, or very near, the larger adult sofas and chairs. There were blocks and beads, books and puzzles set up in centers along one wall and a magazine rack full of pamphlets and books about dealing with serious diseases, all written in an easy-to-understand format for both children and adults. Across the long front of the reception booth, built right into the desk itself, there was a large aquarium which, when filled, would calm and fascinate young and old alike.

  Ivan knew the first impression of any child entering this facility would be largely positive, despite their apprehension. He vowed then and there that he would do everything in his power to make the rest of their experience here just as positive. At least, as positive as was possible under the circumstances. That was the goal. His particular mission. The reason he’d been born healthy, while his sister had not. “Who’s the architect?” he asked.

  “Peter Braddock. You may have met him…or his brothers, Adam and Bryce. Their family’s been in Rhode Island practically as long as ours.”

  “I don’t think I have,” Ivan said, because, despite having spent a lot of time at Danfair during his college years, Ivan had never done much socializing with Matt’s society friends.

  “I’ll introduce you at the Denim & Diamond fund-raiser Saturday evening. I’m sure the Braddocks will be there. They’re all good men and good friends. You’ll like them and their wives.” Matt nodded as some workmen came through a side door and went out the front. “Braddock Construction is the contractor on the building,” he said. “The work is a little behind schedule because of all the rain we had back in December, but since the Braddocks donated much of their services, we’re not complaining.”

  “From what you’ve shown me so far, the design is perfect,” Ivan said with sincerity. “I doub
t anyone could have come up with better, so I’ll look forward to meeting Peter and thanking him.”

  “We all had our share of input, of course. You know how these things evolve…plenty of ideas bouncing about, but someone finally has to pull them into a workable plan.”

  Ivan didn’t know how projects like this evolved. He’d never had the experience of building anything, not even a house, but he could imagine the thrill of following an idea from inception to structural reality. He wished he could have been included in that process this time, but respected Matt’s desire to surprise him with a job offer. “Let me guess,” he said. “The murals were Miranda’s idea, the aquarium was Andrew’s, and Ainsley’s contribution was enthusiasm.”

  “Ainsley actually wanted forest scenes on the walls, with lots of friendly, furry little creatures peeking out from behind trees and bushes. She even thought the office staff should wear animal costumes one day a week, just for fun. Miranda vetoed that suggestion as impractical, and overruled the forest scheme so the walls would tie in with the aquarium. There was considerable discussion over the colors—whether to do primary colors or pastels—but Miranda won that one, too. She thought reds and oranges would be overstimulating for the children. So, not to be left out entirely, Ainsley insisted we build a puppet stage and a dress-up center for the children in the less critical care ward. She’s also plotting behind Miranda’s back to have dress-up days for the staff, so she can get those animal costumes in one way or another, but I’m going to leave that battle for you to referee.” Matt shook his head. “If my sisters ever have a real argument, I hope I’m out of the country. There’s a good reason most of The Danville Foundation’s projects are governed by committee or department and not left entirely up to the family to decide. But the center was too near and dear to all our hearts. We wanted to be very hands-on.”

  “Well, it shows.” Ivan followed Matt through a doorway behind the reception booth and into a long hall of basic office space. “This must be the administrative wing.”