Just What the Doctor Ordered
Page 8
Matt nodded. “I warn you, we didn’t do much in the offices. We felt our resources were better utilized in the patient area. But if you think the staff should have something more cheerful than off-white walls and plain workstations, feel free to submit a limited redecorating budget.”
“Are you kidding?” Ivan asked with a laugh. “You know if it were up to me, no one would have an office at all. The staff would just have to be resourceful about finding a clear spot to work.”
“Which is the reason you’re here, Ivan. I know—we all know—the patients are the most important part of this for you.”
Ivan stopped walking to look at his friend. “I won’t let you down, Matt.”
“I know that, too.” Matt moved ahead to open a closed door. “But you may want to take a look at your office before you get overcome with gratitude. I wasn’t kidding about it being just four square walls and a few pieces of utilitarian furniture.”
Ivan glanced inside, interested only in knowing where to go to do the paperwork. Unfortunately, there was always paperwork. “This is perfect,” he said.
“Considering you don’t plan to spend any more time in here than absolutely necessary?” Matt laughed and closed the door. “And to think I could hardly get you out of the dorm when we were in college.”
“I had to study.” Ivan defended himself as he did anytime the subject came up. “And the best place to do that was in the room. The best place for me to invest my time here will be with the patients, their families and the medical staff.”
“You are the most dedicated person I think I’ve ever met.” Matt led the way to another door, one that opened onto a back stairway. He started up the steps to the second floor and Ivan stayed close behind him. “And, believe me, I know several.”
“I’m the laziest son of a gun in the world next to your mom and dad,” Ivan protested.
“Yes, well, you’re a lot younger than they are, too. It’s taken them years to perfect their devotion to the Foundation. And, for the record, I advise you not to follow their example to the letter. They’ve missed out on a lot.”
Ivan knew that was true, but still admired their willingness to make the sacrifice. “But they’ve helped so many in the process.”
“They are—” Matt admitted “—remarkable people.”
“You’re no slouch, yourself.”
“I’m a crusader by birth, Ivan. Left to my own devices, I doubt I’d have had the initiative to accomplish even half of what you’ve already accomplished in your life.”
“Save the modesty for someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do. You’re the power behind the scenes of this operation, Matthew. This clinic wouldn’t exist if not for your ability to pull all those bouncing ideas into a workable plan. I know that…and so do you.”
Matt paused at the landing. “Anyone in my position could do the same,” he said. “But if I’d had to start where you did and pull myself out by sheer grit and determination…” He shook his head as he opened the door onto the second floor. “That’s where you’ll always have the jump on me, Ive. You’ve got grit.”
There would always be that element in their friendship, Ivan supposed. That mutual disagreement over who had made the best use of their circumstances. He’d started with nothing except the will to save his sister. Matt had started with the will to carry on the work his forefathers had begun. By rights, their paths should never have crossed, but here they were. Two men from opposite ends of the social spectrum who had found they shared a common goal. Ivan had no doubt his friend would have accomplished great things, regardless of his beginnings. Ivan, on the other hand, would never have had these opportunities at all if not for Matt and his family.
“Your parents set a wonderful example, Matt. The world would be a poorer place without them. Without The Danville Foundation. I’m more than grateful for your faith in me, and I’ll do everything in my power to make the center a success.”
“Tell me that again after you’ve attended your first fund-raiser gala.” Matt held open the stairwell door and they moved out into the second-floor hallway. “Which is this coming Saturday. Or did I already mention that? At any rate, I hope you brought your black tie.”
As the door closed behind them with a metallic click, the feel of a hospital corridor surrounded Ivan. Now he was in familiar territory. “I’m not sure putting me in a tuxedo and taking me to the ball will be of any benefit to the Foundation. You know I’m mostly inept in social situations. Remember the time you tricked me into taking your date’s roommate to the Kappa’s Winter Ball? That was a disaster.”
“Hello,” Matt said to a couple of workmen who were touching up paint in the hallway. “It looks good, gentlemen.”
“Thank you, Mr. Danville,” one replied.
“We’re gonna have this section all finished by Friday,” said the other.
“Great. I’m counting on you,” Matt said and kept walking as he continued his conversation with Ivan. “You’ve been using that Winter Ball excuse to get out of your social obligations for years. It’s time to step up to the plate, my man, and let the ladies have a chance at you. You’ll be the man of the hour, I guarantee.”
“And how, exactly, will that help the pediatric center?”
“Think of it as, ‘Dancing for Dollars.’ Some of the biggest contributions to The Danville Foundation have come from women who appreciate my ability to tango.”
Ivan winced. “Now I know we’re in trouble. You know how uncoordinated I am on the dance floor.”
Matt dismissed any concern with a wave of his hand. “Anyone can learn to dance. It’s the charisma that can’t be faked.”
“Oh, so it’s okay if I trip my partner just so long as I’m charming while I help her up off the floor?”
“It’s all in the wrist, buddy,” Matt agreed with a grin. “And the smile. Never forget the smile.”
Ivan flipped on the lights in the waiting room area and was pleased to see that here Ainsley’s personality had won out. The murals were cartoon animals, not furry or familiar, but bright, cheerful, odd little creatures, painted with a gleeful hand and a certain irreverent flair. “I see Ainsley was in charge of decorating up here.”
“Hard to miss her free-spirited approach, isn’t it?” But Matt seemed to appreciate the result. “You know, if you’re worried about not knowing how to dance, you could get Ainsley to teach you. She’s been taking dance lessons of one sort or another her whole life. She started out wanting to be a prima ballerina, progressed through tap, interpretive dance and, at her eleventh birthday party, startled us all by declaring she’d decided to become an engineer. She’s always had trouble with math so, luckily, that phase passed in favor of something else. I forget what. That’s our Baby. Never short on big ideas. It’s just lucky for the rest of us she never maintains interest long enough to carry them out.”
Ivan moved forward to take a closer look at the mural. “Did she paint this herself?”
“Every last curious little creature. She wouldn’t let any of us come near this area until she’d finished. You can see why.”
Ivan smiled, imagining Ainsley in coveralls, paint splattered all through her hair, across her face, concentrating furiously on making these murals her contribution to the children. “The kids will love it,” he said. “She did a great job.” He turned, walked back to the doorway where Matt waited. “I stopped by her office Monday. She insisted on showing me the view from her window.”
Matt laughed. “She’s always tweaking me about that. As if she doesn’t get enough attention already.”
“Do you like the accountant?” he asked suddenly, bluntly. “The one who came to dinner the other night.”
“Bucky?” Matt answered with a shrug. “He’s a nice guy. Comes from a good Boston family. He seems steady enough for her and he doe
s a good job for the Foundation. A thankless job at that. She could do worse.”
She could do better, too, but it wasn’t Ivan’s place to comment on Ainsley’s love interest. Although he wanted to. He really wanted to. “What exactly is IF Enterprises?” he asked instead. “When I asked her, she told me their business is some sort of personal relations, but I got the feeling there was more to it than that.”
Matt’s expression softened, turned almost sheepish. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you, since she doesn’t seem to be keeping it a secret. IF Enterprises specializes in happily ever afters.”
“They write fairy tales?”
“That’s the way I look at it,” Matt said. “But according to Baby, IF Enterprises is in the business of matchmaking.”
“Making matches?”
“Matchmaking,” Matt repeated. “The kind between a man and a woman. The kind that has matrimony as its objective.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Matt shook his head as they walked past the vacant nurses’ station, and the dress-up play center—another of Ainsley’s inspirations—nestled in the room directly behind it. “As it turns out, Mrs. Fairchild has been operating as an exclusive matchmaker for the upper strata of New England society for a number of years. Apparently with quite a record of successes, too. Ainsley badgered the poor woman shamelessly until she agreed to take her on as an apprentice.”
A matchmaker’s apprentice. He’d never have guessed, but he could see how that would appeal to Ainsley. She’d told him—in one of her confiding moments—that when she was a little girl, she’d wanted to grow up to be a fairy godmother. He could see where matchmaker might be an extension of that long-ago fantasy. She’d be good at it, too, with her imagination and enthusiasm, her keen eye for personalities and her boundless energy for helping others. Yes, he could see that given half a chance, she’d be very good at drawing people together, at spotting the potential for a happily ever after. “I wouldn’t have thought there’d be much call for matchmakers these days,” he said. “I especially wouldn’t have thought it would be…acceptable…here.”
“To the silver spoon crowd, you mean? Six months ago, I’d have agreed with you. But Baby has been educating me on the subject and it turns out it’s not any easier to meet the right person here than it is to stumble across her in one of your Texas dance halls. Not that you would know this, Mr. Socially Inept.”
Matt always tweaked him on that, teased him about his belief that the differences in their backgrounds were vast and diametrically opposed. It didn’t change Ivan’s thinking, but he appreciated the attempt, just the same.
“Maybe I should get Ainsley to do some matchmaking for me,” Ivan said as a joke. “She could use me as a practice case.”
“Be careful there, my friend. She tried to set up a match for our cousin and he wound up getting left at the altar. Besides, you might want to practice being an eligible bachelor for a while. Take it from me, being the man of the hour has certain advantages.”
“Still leery of marriage traps, Matt? Don’t you want to find the right woman?” He paused to smile. “Or at least give Ainsley the opportunity to find her for you?”
Matt shuddered at the thought. “No, and no. I’ve got all the commitment I can handle just managing the Foundation. By the time I’m ready to think about marriage, I’m sure some other occupation will have snagged Baby’s interest.”
Ivan wished Matt had more faith in Ainsley. He wished she wasn’t always treated like the baby of the family and never allowed to really, honestly grow up. But he certainly wasn’t going to criticize the way the Danville children interacted. They’d grown up in an odd sort of cocoon, depending on each other because their parents were so seldom there. Many times over, Ivan had been welcomed in to share their good times, but he’d never been included in their struggles. If, in fact, they had any. “I just hope she doesn’t get married and start producing little accountants with Bucky’s haircut.”
Matt laughed. “That’s a scary thought.”
“Worse than scary.” Ivan didn’t think he could stand to see Ainsley choose that kind of staid and stifling partner. It made his heart hurt just to think about it.
They completed their tour of the second floor and went on to the third—the surgical and critical care unit. Professionally, Ivan was thrilled with the innovations there, but he knew this floor would be hushed and heavy with the weight of too many lives cut short. There were no murals here—this wasn’t the place for anything except intensive care and the hope for a miracle cure. It made him glad the Danvilles were sensitive to that aspect of the medical treatment the center would be providing. But he wasn’t sorry, for now, to leave the area and walk to the wing that contained the research labs.
Ivan could have spent the next month happily camped out in that wing, but Matt was hungry and wanted to get some lunch. “I’ll get you some information about the Denim & Diamonds gala,” Matt said over a sandwich from the Newport Creamery. “Time, place, etc. Wear jeans with a tux jacket and shirt. You can wear your cowboy boots, if you want, but don’t forget the black tie.”
The crabmeat sandwich suddenly lost some of its flavor, and Ivan chased a bite of it with a swallow of iced tea. “You’re sure you want me to go? I don’t think I’ll be much of an asset.”
“Ivan, my man, you have some wake-up calls ahead. The name of the game around here is who you know…and who knows you. From now on, your dance card is going to stay pretty full. This Saturday you’ll make polite conversation for the benefit of the American Cancer Society. In a couple of weeks, you’ll be lifting your glass in support of the Providence Symphony Orchestra. But down the road, I guarantee at least one of those conversations or one of those toasts will result in a substantial gift to the Foundation and the pediatric center. That’s how it works.”
“Okay, then,” Ivan said, giving in with good grace if not much confidence. “I’d better get signed up for those dance lessons.”
Matt grinned. “It’s not a death sentence. You might even enjoy yourself for a change. When, exactly, was the last time you held a beautiful woman in your arms?”
“As a matter of fact, it was just the other day,” he said smugly, remembering the warmth, the scent, the sweet pleasure of holding and hugging Ainsley.
“It was?” Matt was momentarily taken aback, but then he came around. “Getting a welcome-home hug from my baby sister doesn’t count.”
“Sure it does.” Ivan picked up his sandwich again. “She’s a beautiful woman.”
“Yes, but too close to a sister to count. I know you’re dedicated to your profession, Ivan, and that’s important. But you may want to think about having a personal life now, too. Eventually you’re going to want to get married and have a family. This may be the right time to start looking.”
“I could say the same to you.”
“No, that’s where we’re different. I don’t intend to have children, which isn’t something women want to believe. They think you’ll change your mind—or they’ll change it for you. So I don’t see myself getting married. That’s just the way it has to be. Someone else’s son can carry the family responsibility into the next generation.”
Ivan had heard Matt say that about kids before, but hadn’t honestly believed he meant it. Who wouldn’t want children? A family of his own? Ivan had always had the idea in the back of his mind. For later. After he’d finished medical school. After his residency. After he’d found the place in the world he was supposed to fill. And it was true, all of those “laters” were behind him now. For the most part, anyway. Maybe it was time to open his heart to the possibility of finding the woman who would share his life…and his purpose.
“Dance lessons and a wife,” he said drily as he pretended to make a list on a paper napkin. “I am going to be busy.”
Matt
laughed. “Just watch out for the matchmaker’s apprentice.”
Ivan laughed, too, but the idea struck him that he could enlist Ainsley’s help. Not because he wanted her to find him a wife, but because he wanted to support her choice of career, as frivolous as he had to admit it sounded. It seemed no one else in the family believed she could succeed. And really, what was the worst that could happen? It might even earn her a measure of new respect from her family. She needed that. She deserved it. Who knew? She might set him up with someone who could actually teach him how to dance. He might even learn the tango.
Stranger things had happened. Look at how far he’d come. Look at the opportunity he’d been given to make a real difference in the world.
Proof positive that miracles did occur…even to ordinary guys like him.
* * *
“Line two is for you,” Lucinda announced when Ainsley picked up the phone in her office. “Your brother. The picture taker.”
“Photographer, Luce,” Ainsley corrected. “Andrew’s a freelance photographer.”
“Okay, whatever.” And the intercom light blinked off.
Ainsley jabbed the flashing line two. “Andrew?”
“Hello, baby sister! You are going to be so glad I called you today.” Andrew’s voice came across the phone line sounding overly cheery and a little desperate. “What would you say if I told you I’ve decided to take you with me on an all-expense-paid trip to Salt Lake City?”
Ainsley giggled into the phone, instantly happy to hear from her twin, even when she suspected he had ulterior motives. “First, I’d remind you that I’m a working woman and can’t be away from my office at this particular time. Ilsa has left me in charge while she’s away on her honeymoon, you know.” A lilting thrill came with the words, the idea that she was really and truly the matchmaker’s apprentice. “And second, I’d ask why you need me to help you lug your camera equipment all over creation. Haven’t you hired a new assistant yet?”