The Doctor's Accidental Family

by Jacqueline Diamond

  “I figured I should warn you.”

  “Consider me warned.” It was counterproductive to snap at the guy who’d invited him today, but because of Jack, Nick had lost his chance at a private conversation with Zady. She’d joined her sister in the center of a dozen or so well-wishers, beneath a banner reading, Happy 30th Birthday!

  “Speaking of warnings,” Nick added, “you told me the party was for your uncle.”

  “It is, among others. Does it matter?”

  More than you can imagine. “Never mind.” Nick tried to smile, achieved a grimace and cleared his throat. “I can’t wait to meet your wife.”

  “Anya’s right over here.”

  While shaking hands with a charming woman who struck him as a sensible counterweight to her husband’s enthusiasms, Nick made a quick survey of the living room. The striped sofa, gleaming curio cabinet and formal raised dining room reinforced his impression of elegance. As he drove up, he’d admired the ocean view and the blue-trimmed white house that dominated the block.

  Impulsively, he muttered, “Beautiful place. Must be nice to be rich.”

  “Karen?” Anya said. “She’s not. She inherited the house in bad shape. To pay for refurbishing, she had to take in renters.”

  Kicking himself for being judgmental, Nick said, “I shouldn’t leap to conclusions. But now that she’s married an anesthesiologist, surely they can afford to keep the place to themselves.”

  “Rod’s practically broke.” Jack shrugged. “He spent years fighting for custody of his daughters, whom he lost to their billionaire stepfather. That would be the late Vince Adams, who endowed the Porvamm to the hospital.”

  “And now, here we are.” A red-haired girl in her early teens presented a tray filled with stuffed mushrooms. “Is this the cute new doctor Zora’s been talking about? Hi, I’m Tiffany Adams.”

  “I’m Nick Davis, and thanks for the compliment.” He’d have extended his hand, but hers were already occupied. Instead, he selected an hors d’oeuvre.

  “Sorry for gossiping,” Jack said.

  “I forgive you. Don’t do it again, cuz.” After a mock attempt to kick his ankle, the girl moved on.

  What an interesting group, Nick mused. He’d heard that Tiffany and her younger sister, who must be the flame-haired kid also passing out treats, had inherited a fortune, but they didn’t act snobbish. There was nothing wrong with money as long as you didn’t let it inflate your ego or corrupt your values, as it seemed to have with Marshall and his parents.

  A shout of laughter erupted around the gift table. Zady and Zora were performing an impromptu baton-twirling routine with a pair of canes, no doubt a gag gift implying they’d become decrepit with age. Karen, watching beside her husband, gazed anxiously at a nearby lamp.

  The twins halted amid giggles. “You’d better keep these.” Zora handed both canes to Rod. “As you can see, we’re a menace.”

  “Sorry, Karen,” Zady added.

  “No harm done,” responded the bride.

  Observing the sisters together, Nick was again struck by the similarities of coloring, height and mannerism, but also by the differences. Thinner, with reddish-brown hair a shade lighter than her twin’s, Zady had a more reserved manner and a trace of sadness around the eyes.

  What was bothering her? Her gaze kept returning to the pink-blanket-wrapped baby girl nestled in Lucky’s arms. Longing to be a mother, too?

  Ironically, Nick had had a son before he’d even thought about fatherhood. In the three years since then, Caleb had changed him. If only he could offer his son an ideal home, with two happily married parents, but that hadn’t been in the cards. Now Nick was determined to provide the boy with as much stability as possible, but it was proving an uphill battle.

  Elaine Carrigan had led him through yet another song-and-dance routine about tomorrow’s meetup with Caleb. She’d seemed especially reluctant to have Nick visit their home. Only when Nick demanded straight out that she tell him what was wrong had she backed down and suggested he arrive after lunch for a play session.

  The couple owned a large house in a semirural setting. Bethany had cited her desire to raise their son there as one of several reasons for rejecting Nick’s offer of marriage, and the Carrigans had emphasized how much Caleb loved the place when they’d urged Nick to let him stay with them after Bethany’s death.

  But what was going on now? Had the house become unsafe, or were they trying to edge him out of the boy’s life? Worst-case scenario: they planned a bid for custody and, by reducing contact, aimed to portray him as an indifferent father.

  Tomorrow, he’d find out.

  Across the room, the twins were laughing again as they displayed the contents of an over-the-hill survival kit: fanglike teeth, bottle-thick glasses and Halloween-worthy black wigs. They called out thanks to the eminent Dr. Cole Rattigan.

  When Nick had met him at the hospital, the man had inclined his head with royal coolness, leaving an impression of arrogance. Today, however, he beamed at everyone. No doubt both his attitude and the funny gift owed a lot to the elfin woman with him, also the object of the twins’ gratitude. That must be his wife, Stacy.

  An older woman with graying dark hair brushed past Nick to scoop wrapping paper and ribbons into a trash bag. She was clearly the other housemate he’d heard about, a nurse. “Ready for cake?” she asked the birthday duo.

  “You bet, Keely.” Thanking everyone again, Zora piled the gifts neatly, while Zady silently gathered the remaining wrappings. Struck by her reticence, Nick recalled that these were her sister’s friends. While everyone appeared to welcome her, he wondered if she, too, felt like an outsider.

  Most of the residents and guests trooped into the den, where Nick had seen a cake on display. Only he and Zady lingered in the living room.

  “I’d have brought a gift if I’d realized it was your birthday.” He bent to lift one end of the coffee table as she raised the other.

  “Like we need more gag gifts?” She indicated a spot where the table legs fit into carpet indentations. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Nick helped lower the piece gently. “You should go blow out candles and help cut the cake.”

  “Those big-number three and zero candles? Zora can manage. As for cake-cutting, when my brother-in-law sees dessert, everybody better clear a path.”

  “It’s your birthday,” he reminded her. “I’ll finish straightening here. Go eat.”

  Zady’s wry gaze met his. “I’d rather wait till...”

  When she broke off, Nick guessed the rest. “Till Marshall arrives?”

  “Yes. I’d like to get that out of the way.”

  “The tattling part?”

  She blew a strand of hair sideways off her cheek. “Yeah. The part where I metaphorically stab you in your evil heart. Does that sum it up?”

  “I haven’t yet thrown in my lot with the conspiracy,” Nick responded mildly. “Although I do agree that space should be allotted to other doctors.”

  “That’s not my problem.” Zady planted hands on hips. “Anything else?”

  Nick had trouble organizing his thoughts with her standing there, her face animated and her knit top stretching over her breasts. “Yeah. You look really cute.”

  “How condescending!”

  “Have trouble accepting compliments, do you?”

  “Only from the devil’s minions.” She laughed.

  “Hey, I’m a good guy. Mostly.” Judging by the noises from the den, everyone had dug into the cake. Nick was too busy enjoying the conversation to care about dessert. “I deliver babies night and day. Well, night and sometimes day if we’re busy.” He’d stayed until 10:00 a.m. once this week.

  Zady studied him. “Why do you work such long hours? It must interfere with your swinging-bachelor life.”

 
“Is my cousin trotting out that old ‘He’s a playboy’ crap?” In all honesty, Nick was partly to blame for the image. At a family gathering years ago, he’d called Marshall a stuffed shirt and bragged about his own playboy antics—mostly invented—while sailing to the top of his medical school class at UCLA.

  He’d been aware that his successes, which resulted as much from a top-notch memory as from hard work, had been a sore spot with his cousin. A year older and proud of his admission to Harvard Medical School, Marshall had assumed he should be superior at everything. Instead, he’d struggled with his studies until he hit on his true talent as a surgeon.

  “Let me guess. Your goal is to get rich enough to buy your own hospital,” Zady said.

  “Don’t forget the private fleet of jets.” Okay, enough teasing. Nick could see from her dubious expression that she half believed him. “I don’t come from wealthy parents like my cousin. I’m paying off med school and supporting a son. I have a three-year-old—no doubt he mentioned that.”

  “In passing.”

  “What did he say, exactly?”

  “That you weren’t involved with raising your child.” Her guarded tone implied she was softening his cousin’s comments.

  “I’m as involved as I can arrange.” No more light tone. “Caleb’s mother died six months ago in a boating accident. I let him stay with his grandparents, but I visit every week. However, during the last month, they’ve become—”

  Although he wasn’t sure why he’d started to confide in her, he felt a flash of irritation when the doorbell interrupted. If that was Marshall, Nick doubted he’d get a further chance to explain. Still, he appreciated being able to correct a few of Zady’s false impressions.

  In fairness, Marshall had no doubt only repeated what he’d heard from his mother, who must have drawn what she considered a logical conclusion from the fact that Nick didn’t marry the woman carrying his child. Neither his cousin nor his aunt was likely to give Nick the benefit of any doubt.

  “I’d like to hear more, if you’re still speaking to me,” Zady said before hurrying to answer the door.

  How much more should he share? Well, Nick could use feedback about his current concerns. He’d hate to misinterpret the Carrigans’ behavior and antagonize them needlessly. However, once Zady told Marshall about the forces allied against him, he would raise the drawbridge and release crocodiles into the moat.

  Luckily, I know how to swim and dodge at the same time. Nick only regretted that the barrier between him and Zady, which had lifted briefly today, would once again slam into place.

  * * *

  DESPITE HER PLAN to share what she’d learned, Zady found that difficult as she welcomed her doctor into the house. His expression guarded, Marshall squared his already straight shoulders beneath his dark blue jacket and handed her two gifts decorated with satiny paper and elaborate bows.

  “Happy birthday.”

  “Thanks.” Zady cast an uneasy glance toward the living room, but Nick had vanished. “Come in.”

  Now what should she say? She could hardly blurt, “By the way, while I was lurking in the pantry sulking about my ex-boyfriend’s baby, I eavesdropped on a plot.” How melodramatic.

  Also, what Nick had said about his son gave her pause. While she doubted Marshall had been deliberately untruthful, he’d gotten his facts wrong. That was unrelated to the conspiracy, but was it wise to choose sides?

  “Everybody’s in here.” The gifts in her arms, she led him to the den.

  The sight of Dr. Rattigan drew a smile from Marshall. Pleased to see him unwind a little, Zady introduced her boss to a few people en route to joining his supervisor. After he seemed settled, she and Zora opened his gifts.

  The boxes contained expensive skin-care products. “Ooh, this smells wonderful!” Zora exclaimed. “Zady and I can have a beauty day.”

  “These are fabulous,” Zady agreed.

  Marshall ducked his head. “The department store clerk recommended them. I’m afraid I’m no expert on gifts for ladies.”

  “You did great.” Lucky approached carrying slices of red-velvet cake with cream-cheese frosting. “Here you go, Dr. Davis. Zady, you, too.”

  There was plenty of cake left, she noticed, and remembered that Nick hadn’t had any. Where was he?

  Ah, there, hanging back near the kitchen. One of the Adams girls, trying to squeeze past, bumped him and giggled loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.

  If someone had whacked Marshall with a rod, he couldn’t have reacted more strongly. At the sight of his cousin, every muscle in his body stiffened.

  Zady might have responded pretty much the same had she run into Zora unexpectedly before they reconciled last fall. Their dysfunctional mother had pitted them against each other their entire lives, but once Zady moved back to the area, she and her sister had quickly seen through the lies. Whatever misunderstandings—or well-grounded enmities—lay between these cousins probably had deeper roots.

  The men nodded in mute acknowledgment. Zora broke the tension by declaring that the wrappings were too lovely to throw away. “You never know when they’ll come in handy. Maybe for a craft project.”

  Zady joined her in folding them. “I’m sure we’ll reuse them.”

  Leaving his untouched plate on a side table, Marshall hurried to pick up a bow that had dropped to the carpet. “I’d hate to leave a mess,” he explained, handing it to her.

  “Thanks,” she said. “But you should take it easy. You’re a guest.”

  “If something needs doing, I’d rather take care of it immediately,” he replied.

  The doctor was uncomfortable at social gatherings, Zora reflected. Perhaps that explained why, according to hospital gossip, he didn’t have much of a private life. Which is none of my business. “Enjoy your cake. Unless you haven’t eaten any real food yet?”

  “Oh, there’s food?” He glanced around.

  Zady was directing him to the dining room, when the usually bashful Dr. Rattigan cleared his throat loudly. “While everybody’s here, I have an announcement.”

  The conversations died down. Amber and Tiffany stopped joking with their father, and Jack froze, as if fearing Cole might hand out the office suites willy-nilly.

  “This won’t be officially announced until tomorrow, but I believe that Luke’s family and friends ought to hear it first.” Cole was the only person Zady knew who referred to Lucky by his formal name. “He’s being promoted to director of nursing for the men’s fertility program.”

  Cheers broke out. “Way to go!” and “Well deserved!” flew through the air. Zora rushed to hug her husband, and Betsy—director of nursing for the hospital staff—called congratulations to her newly elevated colleague.

  Lucky started to speak but had to try several times before the words flowed. “I can’t tell you how much this honor means to me. It’s been a long haul for a guy who started his career as a security guard and an ambulance driver. To have Cole Rattigan believe in me is a dream come true.”

  “We all believe in you,” Karen called.

  “Don’t overdo it,” Rod declared. “He still has to wash dishes later.”

  Encouraged by his friends, Lucky clasped his hands in a victory salute. On his right arm, a tattooed dragon wriggled menacingly. On the left, a cartoon woman whose armor emphasized her physical bounty waved her sword at the beast.

  “Dare we hope he’ll get those ugly tats removed?” Marshall muttered so low that Zady doubted anyone else heard.

  Don’t you realize he’s my brother-in-law? Although she wasn’t crazy about the tattoos, either, the remark struck her as inappropriate at a moment when they were celebrating Lucky’s achievement.

  She recalled Nick’s comment about Marshall’s privileged upbringing. Much as she admired her doctor, it must be hard for him to understand what an
achievement it was for a guy from a poor neighborhood in LA to earn his RN and then his master’s degree in administration, studying at night while working days.

  When the crowd around Lucky thinned, Marshall moved forward to shake his hand. He did have good manners, she mused, but that insight into his thinking had left a sour taste. Zady decided that whatever confidence she wished to impart to her boss could wait—or she might stay out of this altogether. Since Marshall was already guaranteed a large suite in the remodeled building, he wouldn’t be directly affected by the administration’s decision.

  The grumbling in her stomach reminded her that it was nearly four o’clock. Having skipped lunch, she wandered through the kitchen into the dining room, where, despite earlier depletions, there were still plenty of cold cuts and side dishes.

  The only person in the room, Nick, stood filling a pita pocket with hummus. As she watched, he tucked in thin-sliced ham and several pickle chips, finishing it all off with a squirt of mustard.

  “I hope your medicine cabinet’s stocked with antacids.” She took a paper plate off the stack.

  “It’s fun trying new food combinations,” he responded, and added sliced black olives to the mix. “Speaking of food, have you spilled the beans yet?”

  “Excuse me?” Zady spread mayonnaise on whole wheat bread before layering on corned beef and Swiss cheese.

  “Have you told my cousin about the big conspiracy? I’ve been waiting for him to glower in that winning fashion of his.” Edging alongside her, Nick smelled of coffee and spicy mustard. “Try that stinky cheese over there.” As he spoke, he plopped a hunk of it into his already stuffed pita.

  “Can you wait a minute? I’ll have to leave the room once you start eating that,” Zady said.

  “I’m not the person who bought it,” he remarked cheerily. “What did you stock for Marshall’s palate? I don’t see escargots. How about some pâté de foie gras? I can hardly pronounce it.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with French cuisine unless you’re a reverse snob.” She sliced her sandwich diagonally in half. “Well, maybe that pâté.” She’d read that its manufacture involved cruelty to geese.