Brett knew better than to take offense. Della’s observation about his darling daughter’s bold curiosity was delivered with gentle amusement and one hundred percent true.
“You go on, Doc. I’ve got both girls well in hand.”
He paused with a sudden afterthought. “Do me a favor and keep a lookout, in case she tries to get into that old bathtub.”
“A voluntary bath doesn’t sound like our Tess.”
“Uh, no. I mean Mandy.” Disconcerted by the misunderstanding, he blushed and zipped out the screen door.
BRETT DROVE ON TO THE clinic with thoughts of Mandy. Hearing the small snatch of conversation between Mandy and Ivy had startled him. Mandy felt their attraction just as he did! He wasn’t going to make a fool of himself over it, however. Well, not again. He’d been clumsy in trying to convince Della that Mandy should be treated like the rest of the boarders. And then there’d been the damn bath misunderstanding. He’d handled that situation like a dopey schoolboy. Okay, so Mandy was smart, pretty and fun. He knew from experience those qualities weren’t always enough. It paid to be cautious.
The clinic’s staff parking lot was well occupied when he swung his Corvette into his reserved spot. In fact, when he entered through the rear service door he quickly discovered he was the last to arrive. Everyone was huddled together in his small private office—his partner Jack Graham, nurses Rochelle Owens and Kaitlyn Miner, and nurse’s aide Sarah Draper—murmuring among themselves.
Plainly, this was to be a day for the unexpected.
“Is this some kind of mutiny?” he asked cheerily, wheeling inside. The room fell into a startled silence, faces frozen in stifled smiles.
“Good morning, Brett,” Jack said. The blond physician was in the rear of the crowd, but quite visible as he was a head taller than the rest. “We were just debating whether some music was in order for the occasion, a little humming of ‘Pomp and Circumstance,’ maybe. But, never mind. Let the man through, girls.”
Bodies parted, allowing Brett a path. There on his desk sat the object of their amusement, a plastic toy black stallion, upon which was seated a chrome knight.
“Knight in shining armor. Very clever.”
Jack beamed. “We have no right to give out Nobels or Pulitzers, but when a fella is a hero, something should be done. And it’s come to our attention that you rescued one damsel in distress yesterday, right in your own front yard.”
Applause broke out. As it died away a familiar slap-and-shuffle could be heard out in the hallway: size nine moccasins hitting the tiles. It was sure to be Charlotte Evenson, office manager and character of the clinic. Age seventy, five foot six, two hundred pounds, pale yellow hair stiff with spray, huge earrings that dangled like tree ornaments. Like everyone else, she wore white, but unlike the others, it didn’t make her appear especially professional.
The remarkably solid woman now filled the doorway. “It’s eight-thirty on the dial,” she boomed without preamble. “Patients are waiting.”
She stood back smugly, allowing the nursing staff to scatter.
“They were just having a little fun, Charlotte.”
“Don’t I know it,” she hooted. “Who do you think got Alan Nash to open his toy store at the crack of dawn for that pony! Fun is fun and now it’s time for business.” With another slap and shuffle of shoe, she was gone.
Brett moved to the coffeemaker on a file cabinet, poured himself a mug and sat at his desk. “To think I dashed over here to hide out for a few minutes before opening, to decompress.”
“Well, blame me. It was all my idea.” Jack Graham slid a thigh over the front edge of the desk and picked up the horse and rider. “Pretty clever gift though, eh?”
“Not as clever as the time in med school when we put that skeleton in your bed.”
“Agreed. I’ll just have to keep at it until I pay you back in full for that prank.”
Brett laughed. “How was I supposed to know your kid sister was in town?”
“Or that she’s always been especially frightened of horror movie theatrics? She still complains about you, even though she’s married and living in Washington.”
“Well, I’ve had my share of bad luck with women all my life.”
Brett watched Jack sober a bit in sympathy. The bond they’d formed at UCLA had been the best kind, built not only on chemistry but on respect and trust. It hadn’t seemed to bother Jack too much that Brett had always been ahead of him in class rank, had a girl who adored him.
In any case, Jack seemed quite satisfied with life these days, settled back in his hometown. With the help of his innate sense of humor, he’d come to terms with his average looks and relatively uncomplicated personal life. And he was more than happy to share his family practice with a widowed pal who needed a fresh start. It was a bonus that they made each other feel young and crazy again.
If Brett could change anything about Jack it would be his nosiness. But then again, the small town was nosy by nature. He watched in amusement as Jack shrugged, trying not to sound too eager for precious info.
“This new girl does sound real cute. Mandy. Even her name is fun.”
“Turns out she’s a friend of Ivy’s.”
“Yeah. Not a bad reference.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve always felt Ivy’s a confusion, singing karaoke at the Blue Parrot Lounge on Saturday night, then trotting over to church the next morning to sing with the choir.”
“The bigger confusion is her nerve. She actually thinks she has a singing voice.”
“If possible, this Mandy is even wackier. Can you imagine riding a bicycle in tight pants and high gold sandals? Then crashing into a car just for a look at my bare chest?”
“I’ve never seen much in your chest. A bit too much hair, a little too lean, if you ask me.”
“You aren’t taking me seriously.”
“No, I’m not.”
“That’s not all that’s odd. She has a case full of fancy clothes and apparently no money, as Ivy’s paying her rent. She claims to be a master at odd jobs, in town to write her first novel. But if she has a degree like Ivy, why doesn’t she have a career she could have been using to save up for this writing sabbatical?”
Jack clapped him on the back. “I suggest you nose around for answers. Give her the third degree.”
The phone on the desk rang sharply. “Internal line,” Brett noted. “Must be Charlotte. You answer it.”
“No way, it’s your office.”
With a frown Brett picked it up. He held it out so Charlotte’s voice boomed through the room. “When the blazes are you men starting? Mrs. Tremble is out here with a case of hemorrhoids so bad it makes her butt twitch on the chair. Willy Sacks Junior is back with some nasty acne—and he’s missing first hour English as we speak!” Her voice drifted slightly. “Open a textbook, Willy. High school’s been in session a week. You must have homework.”
Brett gingerly hung up. “All that, shouted out in a public forum. It’s so unprofessional.”
Jack stood. “Breaches every patient’s right to privacy.”
“Somehow, we’ve got to shatter her illusion that she runs this place.”
“The sooner the better.”
Brett thrust a finger at the door. “You go out there and lay down the law. Once and for all!”
Jack stepped back with a swish of his lab coat. “Me! All by myself?”
Brett regarded him pityingly. “It is your responsibility, Jacky boy. After all, she is your grandmother.”
“I PUT MY UNDIE PANTS in the top drawer,” Tess announced. “But I don’t think I can reach your top drawer, Mandy.”
Amanda was using the closet door frame as a lean-to, hanging up garments delivered her by Tess. Now the child was seated on the bed, distracted by the contents of the suitcase. “Forget the dresser. We aren’t finished hanging clothes.”
“I’m tired of hangers.” Tess began to paw through Amanda’s lingerie. “I don’t see any Winnie the Pooh or Cinderella p
ants. You’ve only got funny ones.” Tess held up a pair of black lacy ones and peeked through them.
Amanda hopped toward the bed on her good leg. “Those are very expensive and very fragile.”
“What’s fragile?”
“You might rip them. Careful!”
Tess ignored the warning and hung the panties on her head, drooped over her eyes. “Beatrice wears a hat with a black lace veil to church sometimes. When somebody gets married or dies.”
Amanda snatched the panties away and ruffled the child’s soft dark hair. “Oh, yeah?”
“My mommy died. But not here. A long time ago.”
“So did mine.”
“Really? You got no mommy?
“Nope. I lost her when I was a little girl like you.”
“You have a Della to love you?”
“I only wish.”
“I love Daddy and Della. And lots of other people. Frank lets me help in the garden and Beatrice reads to me and Colonel Geoff takes me for constitutionals. Those are walks.”
“You do have a lot of friends in this house.”
“And out of this house. Ivy sits with me and Dr. Jack tickles me.”
“Who’s Dr. Jack?”
“He works with Daddy at the clinic. He’s got a cool grandma named Charlotte who gives me lots of suckers. But she yells a lot.” She lowered her voice. “Daddy thinks girls should talk soft. And not dig holes in the backyard.”
“You dig some holes, little one?”
Tess’s round face beamed. “I like to dig holes.”
Suddenly there was a mild buzzing sound under her covers.
To Amanda’s chagrin, she realized it was her cell phone, which she’d stashed away from Brett’s prying eyes. She sat on the bed.
Apparently, Tess not only dug holes against her father’s wishes, she was also quite capable of raising her voice. “Eek! There’s bees under there!”
“Relax, kid. It’s only my phone.”
“A bee stung me in the garden. It hurt bad.”
“No bees in here. Ignore the sound and it will go away.”
Tess frantically jumped into Amanda’s lap. Amanda flicked back the covers to expose the compact blue instrument. “See? It’s all right.”
“Answer it, answer it. Make the noise stop.”
As Tess pressed palms against her ears, Amanda realized the spunky child was truly frightened. She pushed the talk button to stop the noise. At that moment, her door swung open and Della charged in.
The landlady breathlessly surveyed the picture of Tess huddled up against her new tenant. “What’s bringing down my house?”
Amanda muffled the phone against a pillow. “Just a little misunderstanding over b-e-e—”
“Bees!” Tess hopped off the bed and into Della’s arms.
“It was just my phone, Tess. Sorry it scared you.”
Tess was insulted. “I don’t get scared of phones. Just bees.”
Della made a clucking sound and whisked the child out the door with the promise of grape juice. Tess paused at the doorway, well on the way to recovery. “We’ll finish your undies later.”
“Don’t you go telling the kids at school about my undie veil,” Amanda called after her. “Everybody will want one.” Left alone, she lifted the phone from the pillow. She hoped it was her assistant Jen Berry checking in. No such luck. It was her father’s bellowing voice. She calmly hit the off button.
Chapter Six
“Daddy!” Tess dashed across the boarding house kitchen to her father’s open arms.
He leaned over to gather her close. “You’re usually waiting for me on the front porch swing! To tell me about your day.”
“I was right here all the time.”
He clicked his tongue in regret. “But on your first day of school…”
“It’s okay. I saved my knapsack for you.”
“Which can wait now until after dinner,” Della piped up.
Brett glanced at his landlady at the stove stirring something in a pot, then at the table, where his patient was intent on some kind of project. There were no set rules at the boarding house for dinner on weekdays. Residents were free to use the kitchen to prepare their own fare anytime between the hours of five and seven. But unless Brett called, it was understood that he would be home at half past six to eat with Tess, and the table was always set for the occasion.
But not today.
It seemed the new boarder was shaking everything up, even his dinner routine!
From the shelter of his arms Tess called out. “See, Mandy, I told you he’d come home to eat with me.”
“Was there any doubt?” Brett demanded.
Mandy twisted in her chair to look at them head-on. “Well, not really.”
Tess stomped her tennis shoe. “But you said—”
“Okay, okay!” Mandy’s face swiftly drew color. “I might have mentioned that she could be disappointed. Guess I was thinking out loud.”
“My daddy always does what he says. He’s the best one in the whole world.”
“Maybe not the best,” Brett denied. Then speaking to Mandy, he added, “But Tess can count on me and I don’t want that questioned.”
“Yeah,” Tess chimed in, “you think too loud.”
“I probably should’ve kept my mouth shut. It’s just that my father could never be counted on, so…” Amanda shrugged.
Tess nodded proudly. “Daddy always comes home for dinner. Unless somebody’s head falls off. Then I eat with Della.”
Amanda smiled. “Heads roll often?”
“That’s our family code for an inescapable medical emergency.”
“Oh.”
“Just a little joke in this household.”
“I see.”
But judging by her baffled expression, she didn’t see. How odd was her life? Apparently she couldn’t count on her own father and was unaccustomed to the kind of in-house slang shared by the average family.
Della had kept out of the exchange until now, as she brought over place settings. She set them on the opposite end of the huge oblong table. “We’re giving Mandy a wide berth here,” she explained.
“So I noticed. What are you doing?” Brett approached the table. Loosening his tie in an unconscious motion, he surveyed her project. Glass pieces were set out in front of her on a white sheet of paper, along with glue, cotton swabs, tweezers and a magnifying glass.
“She’s performing surgery on our statue of the Unknown Pilgrim.”
“Frank’s prized possession? How did that get broken?” He slipped into a chair and eyed his daughter.
“I didn’t do it,” Tess asserted with spunk. “I couldn’t, all the way from kindergarten.”
“Did it myself while dusting,” Della confessed. “Was nearly in tears to think what Frank would say when he returned from his appointment in Portland. Then Mandy saved my skin by offering to mend the ugly thing.”
Mandy used the magnifying glass to examine a couple of slivers of ceramic on the sheet of paper. “Well, it won’t be like new, but it will be presentable.”
Brett marveled at her confidence and precision. “This kind of mending is an art form. What an intriguing talent.”
She spoke in a distracted tone, picking up one sliver with the tweezers. “It’s hardly a passion. I developed a knack for it out of necessity. My father has some very attractive pieces and I was a very rambunctious child.”
He stared off into space. “Yes, I can picture you a feisty kid without much stretch.”
She pinched her lips together, as if perhaps she’d said too much.
Tess climbed onto a chair beside Mandy’s and tipped her black head close to Mandy’s auburn one. “Guess what, Daddy? Mandy doesn’t have a mommy, either.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
Mandy concentrated on applying a trace of glue onto the chosen sliver and applied it to the pointed hat. “She died years ago. I’m well over it.”
Brett very much doubted it, judging by her droopy
lower lip.
“Guess we move on from losses best we can,” he said simply, pulling his daughter back from the delicate surgery.
“Chili’s ready,” Della announced. “Come on.” She delivered four steaming bowls of the tomato-beef concoction to the table.
Mandy gave her bowl and the landlady a wan smile. “No thanks, Della.”
Della frowned. “You haven’t eaten much at all today. An apple, some peanuts.”
“I’m not accustomed to eating so much so often.”
With a shrug, Della settled down with the Hansons to eat.
Crumbling crackers into his chili, Brett asked about kindergarten. Tess couldn’t resist popping up to retrieve her knapsack from the counter. Dragging it back to the table, she unzipped it and began to riffle through its contents. “I painted a picture of you, Daddy.” She held it up. Brett was a flesh-colored stick man with a swirl of black hair, wearing red-dotted boxers, a white jacket and a cord around his neck that had to be a stethoscope.
“I would’ve painted your pants but we ran out of time.”
“Maybe you can still paint me some.”
“No. It’s art. Ivy said it’s done.”
“Good old Ivy.”
Della tapped a blunt nail on the table. “Miss Waterman was only teasing. You paint some britches on your daddy after dinner and we’ll hang that piece on the fridge.”
Tess nodded in agreement. Another grope inside the sack brought a flower made of colorful construction paper. “For you, Della.”
“Thank you, dear.” Della held the flower to her nose and sniffed.
“It won’t smell pretty,” the child warned. “Only like paste.” Again the hand dipped into the sack. This time she produced a steno notebook, which she slapped on the table. “This is for you, Mandy. Ivy says you can write your book inside.”
Mandy wrinkled her nose. “Good old Ivy.”
“Appears you were busy all afternoon, baby,” Brett declared.
“Ivy even played the piano, so we could sing songs.”
Brett glanced at the goofy picture of himself with wry amusement. Ivy certainly had a creative sense of humor. Wishing to strike back a little, he said, “Did you know, Mandy, that Ivy’s quite a karaoke aficionado?”
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