Second Opinions: A Lizzy and Dr. Darcy Story (Meryton Medical Romances Book 2)

by Ruby Cruz

  I glanced at my appearance in the bathroom and could see why Dr. DeBourgh had looked upon me with so much disdain. My chestnut hair, which had been pulled into its standard ponytail, was a mess, and spots of what could only be vomit stood out clearly on my T-shirt. Gross.

  I stripped off my shirt and walked back out into the sitting area where Darcy was on the phone with someone. He continued to speak as he wandered into the bedroom. Somewhat disconcerted that he was still taking patient calls when he should be on bereavement leave, I stepped over to where our luggage had been deposited so I could extract fresh clothing.

  I still wasn’t sure where exactly we were. I knew Dr. DeBourgh owned her ridiculously well-appointed home in the Dakota - did she own this mansion also? Surely this was too much space for just one person, and from what little I’d seen of the furnishings, this was just as well-appointed as her Manhattan home. And with the amount of service we were being provided, I felt we were staying at a fancy inn rather than a home.

  I noticed a set of double doors that appeared to lead outside. With T-shirt in hand, I stepped across the room and opened them, the sea air fluttering the gauzy curtains around me.

  The doors opened onto a large balcony from which one could gaze at the spectacular ocean view. The waves rolled relentlessly onto the beach, which appeared to be unoccupied save for stray sea gulls wandering leisurely over the sand.

  A significantly smaller house was situated further down the beach. The house boasted a large, old-fashioned wraparound porch that brought to mind rocking chairs and freshly-squeezed lemonade. A male figure stood on the porch and also appeared to be gazing at the ocean. I was too far away to see his face, but he must have sensed me watching him because he turned and caught me on the balcony. He lifted an arm in greeting and, because I didn’t know what else to do, I waved back.

  That was when I realized I wasn’t wearing a shirt.

  Wholly embarrassed, I ran back into the room and closed the doors. I had my bra on, but it was bright red and lacy - something that I wore to tease Darcy when I knew we couldn’t immediately be together. No way could it be mistaken for anything other than what it was: man-catching lingerie.

  Darcy had finished his call and emerged from the bedroom, his expression no less grave than earlier. He eyed the soiled shirt in my hand. “You don’t have to join us for dinner if you’re still feeling poorly,” he told me.

  “I’m fine. The Zofran helped.”

  “Do you have something appropriate to change into? I’m sorry I forgot to warn you about your attire. I know you prefer to dress more casually than my aunt typically favors.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

  “If you need money to buy something…”

  “I’m fine. You don’t have to spend any more money on me.” I felt slightly irritated. I was gainfully employed and, while not rich in any sense of the term, I could afford to buy myself some new clothes. As long as they were on sale.

  Darcy’s mouth tightened, and I immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just don’t want you to feel obligated to take care of me, especially since your aunt obviously still views me as some type of gold-digging, ‘kept’ woman.”

  He didn’t respond immediately, and his reticence merely justified my statement. “I can bring you into town tomorrow morning if you would like. I believe the shops will already be closed by the time we finish dinner tonight.”

  “I don’t want to inconvenience you. We’re here for you and your family, and it was my own misjudgment for not bringing nicer clothes.”

  “If I had my way, you wouldn’t have needed any clothes,” he said with a wry grin as he stepped over to finger the lacy edge of my bra.

  My insides turned liquid and heat pooled in my core. “I hardly think your aunt would find a total lack of clothing appropriate for her father’s funeral.”

  “Perhaps not, but I doubt my grandfather would have minded.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Friends and Neighbors

  I was relieved to note that dinner at the manor house would be a slightly more casual affair than what I’d experienced at the Dakota. Instead of a suit, Darcy had changed into slate gray pants and a crisp, white buttoned-down shirt. The dress I wore, a simple, black crepe shift with a belt, while not exactly high fashion, was still better than my puke-flecked T-shirt and jean shorts ensemble. I’d purchased it to wear to Jane and Charlie’s rehearsal dinner months before.

  I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror that adorned one corner of the bedroom. I applied a little more eye makeup than usual and fixed my ponytail so it looked less messy than it had earlier.

  Darcy approached me from behind and wrapped his arms around me. “You look beautiful.”

  “Whenever I’m around your aunt, I don’t feel it.”

  He turned me in his arms and hugged me. “I know and I’m sorry for every disparaging remark she’s made against you. I appreciate you being here with me, especially knowing the situation you’d be walking into.”

  “I’m here for you and for Ana. And I am sorry for your aunt’s loss because I know it sucks losing someone you love, no matter the circumstance.”

  “Still, please don’t feel obligated to stay if things are…uncomfortable for you.”

  “Will, you know I’m made of stronger stuff than that. I work in healthcare, remember?”

  He kissed the top of my head as he chuckled against my hair. “Yes, I know. You never let me forget it.” It was a running joke between us. “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  We made our way through the hallway and down the grand staircase. Darcy placed his hand on the small of my back when we reached the foyer and directed me into what appeared to be a formal sitting area. The oversized windows filled the space with light and made the already spacious room feel airy.

  Ana and Terry were already seated on the loveseat, while Dr. DeBourgh held court with a middle-aged woman and a younger man who could only be the woman’s son. They shared the same quiet green eyes and sloped nose. I was happy to see Ana had changed out of her maxi-dress and into a more sedate navy pencil skirt and sleeveless white blouse, while Terry wore gray slacks and a pale blue top. The somber colors felt more appropriate to the occasion - we were, after all, supposed to be in mourning.

  The man stood as Darcy and I entered the room, and my companion stiffened. I couldn’t tell if he was startled by seeing his aunt entertaining guests or for some other reason. When I turned to read his expression, he’d already schooled his countenance into something unreadable.

  “William, you remember Marjorie Hammond and her son, Chase?”

  “Yes, of course.” He leaned forward to cordially shake Chase’s hand and to briefly squeeze his mother’s. “This is my girlfriend, Lizzy Bennett.”

  I smiled politely as I followed suit and greeted Mrs. Hammond before turning my attention to her son. A deep flush overtook my body. He was the same man I’d seen earlier, the one who’d seen me without my shirt. He grinned at me, and I was more than disconcerted to see he bore an uncanny resemblance to Darcy’s nemesis, George Wickham. Sun-soaked blond hair, friendly, handsome features, green eyes instead of gray - he seemed to belong more in Hollywood than the Hamptons.

  “The Hammonds own the property adjacent to this,” Darcy explained, although I could already surmise the information. “Their family has been good friends with my grandparents for years.”

  “Yes, we were so saddened to hear about Walter,” Mrs. Hammond said. “Just last week, he’d played a round of golf with Chase. We’d thought he was the epitome of health.”

  Dr. DeBourgh nodded and offered a watery smile to the younger man. “He was always fond of you. Treated you like one of his own grandchildren.”

  Darcy’s hand squeezed mine again and I caught a certain hardness to his expression. Ana also appeared uncomfortable as she shifted uneasily in he
r seat.

  I began to wonder why there had been such an obvious rift between Walter DeBourgh and his biological grandson, but I knew better than to broach the subject at this time.

  A maid entered the sitting room and invited us to be seated in the dining room where we were immediately served plates of something I couldn’t identify. “Foie gras,” Darcy explained sotto voce, and I inwardly groaned. Even if I hadn’t still been recovering from the flight, I wasn’t a fan of liver, even something that was supposed to be a delicacy. Mom had tried to serve it to us on occasion and, after the first time, I always declined.

  My stomach roiled again as I dutifully spread some on a cracker and nibbled. Okay, I thought, this isn’t so bad. Better than the stuff Mom used to give us.

  “Is the foie gras not to your liking?” Dr. DeBourgh eyed my unfinished plate. She hadn’t said anything to Ana, who had declined the entire offering. Dr. DeBourgh seemed to have forgotten her own niece was a vegan.

  I shook my head. “It’s delicious, but I have to admit my appetite hasn’t fully returned since my arrival.”

  “I’m so sorry. Would you require a tonic water, perhaps?” Without waiting for my answer, she requested the drink be sent out to me, then returned to meet my gaze with a supercilious air.

  Even though this wasn’t the first time she’d tried to assert her authority and her power, the gesture rankled. What was she trying to prove other than she was a bitch? Her niece and nephew were here to support her. I was here to support her nephew. Shouldn’t that be enough? Then again, she probably didn’t want me present at all.

  “Miss Bennett, Dr. DeBourgh tells me that you are also in the medical profession,” Mrs. Hammond addressed me.

  “Yes. I’m currently studying to be a nurse practitioner.”

  “Ah,” she replied in a tone that suggested my answer quaint, as if I’d just announced I was studying eighteenth century folk art. “And after you graduate, what are your plans?”

  “I’m hoping to join a clinic or perhaps a private practice setting.”

  “Nurse Bennett, didn’t you state to me that you had no intention of pursuing a higher degree?” Dr. DeBourgh’s voice was neutral, but I didn’t miss how her icy blue eyes pierced mine. I knew this would have come up eventually, but I hadn’t thought she would call me out on my change of heart in mixed company.

  “I realized that I wanted the opportunity to help patients with preventive care goals rather than taking care of them after a problem has arisen. I know this is counter to what I’ve mentioned in the past, but not everyone’s career takes a completely straightforward path.”

  Uncomfortable silence settled over the dinner table. Finally, Ana stated, “I think it’s great. Healthcare needs more reliable clinicians to relieve the burgeoning patient load from physicians.”

  “I agree with what you’ve said, Lizzy,” Chase added. “After all, if I hadn’t had a change of heart, I would’ve been bored out of my mind in law school instead of doing what I am now.”

  “And what is that?” I asked. I couldn’t recall from our introductions if his current profession had ever been mentioned.

  “You didn’t know?” Mrs. Hammond’s tone gained some pride as she addressed me. “Chase owns the largest art gallery in the village here. The Heritage.”

  Chase elaborated with shocking modesty. “After law school didn’t take, I took a job helping out at the gallery. It was something to pass the time until I figured out what to do. Now, just over five years later, I own it.”

  Even Ana seemed surprised by the revelation. “You own The Heritage? I’ve had clients who buy art only exclusively from your gallery.”

  “My son has a gift,” Mrs. Hammond announced proudly.

  “What type of art do you display?” I asked politely.

  “I try to feature local artists, but I do occasionally acquire estate pieces. You’re welcome to stop by the gallery before you return to New Jersey and see for yourself.”

  As much as I was curious about the gallery, Darcy’s hand on my knee squeezed almost as if in warning, but against what, I had no idea.

  The next course was a simple salad of mixed greens, watermelon, and what looked like a large block of grilled tofu. I glanced at Ana, who placed the block to the side of her plate - obviously it wasn’t tofu if she wasn’t eating it, and I could only assume it was cheese. I cut a corner off the block and nibbled on it. The salty, creamy sweetness of some mild cheese I’d never tasted before was my reward. My appetite now fully restored, I devoured my salad and almost asked for seconds.

  I glanced down the table at Ana, who had also finished her salad, minus the cheese.

  Mrs. Hammond was in the midst of asking Ana about her MBA studies when the distinctive buzz of a cell phone sounded through the room. Terry fumbled for the phone in her pocket and apologized profusely until she saw the readout. “It’s Senator Kelly’s office. Would you please excuse me?” She stood from the table and walked out of the room.

  “Senator Kelly was quite close with your grandfather,” Dr. DeBourgh explained to her niece and nephew. “He’d been a frequent golf partner until he moved to Washington.”

  As Dr. DeBourgh expounded on her father’s long list of famous and well-connected acquaintances, I absently pushed around a lonely piece of greenery on my salad plate. When Terry arrived back to the table, she said, “I’m so sorry. It’s extremely difficult to get through to the Senator’s office nowadays, but he’s scheduled to attend this Wednesday.”

  Dr. DeBourgh appeared relieved and pleased with the news, while Darcy settled his hand on my knee and squeezed. When I looked at him, he gave me a pointed look, at which I ceased fiddling with the greenery on my plate and set my fork down gently.

  Chase seemed to catch the exchange between us and smirked discreetly, toasting me silently with his water glass. Ana saw the gesture and, in a strange response, glared at him. She had a definite dislike for her grandfather’s neighbor, but why, I had no idea.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The Garbage State

  The next morning, my infallible internal clock had me up early, despite a restless night’s sleep. Darcy was still sleeping. He wasn’t lazy by any stretch, but so rarely had a chance to sleep in that he took advantage of the opportunity to do so if possible.

  I ignored the call for coffee in favor of the beckoning ocean. Making sure not to disturb Darcy, I crawled out of bed and padded to the balcony, opening the doors quietly to allow the moist sea air to mingle with the stale air-conditioning within our room.

  The sound of the waves and smell of the salt air lulled me outside, and I closed the doors behind me. I could get used to this, the peace and the privacy of my own strip of paradise.

  Because the temperature hadn’t yet become oppressive with the heat promised for later in the day, I headed back inside to dress. Perfect morning for running.

  I pulled on my sports tank and running shorts, laced up my sneakers and within five minutes was creeping down the hallway and to the silent foyer. I stepped outside the front door only to have Ana scare the crap out of me. She was stretching her calves on the front walk.

  “Good morning! I wasn’t expecting anyone else out here,” I greeted. “Are you starting or ending?” I suspected the former since she still looked fresh.

  “Starting. Wanna join me?”

  “No brainer. You probably know the best routes to take around here.”

  She gave a noncommittal smile and led me around the main part of the house and to a path that led towards the beach. “You up for a beach run?”

  I’d never run on sand before, but the idea of it had always intrigued me, so I nodded. “Sure. Do I have to go barefoot?”

  “No, but be warned: you will get sand in your sneakers. And if you do go barefoot, we probably shouldn’t go too far since it can be hard on your feet if you’re not used to it.”

  She kicked off her shoes and I followed suit. We left our footwear on the edg
e of the walk and made our way to the part of the sand that was constantly wet from the waves.

  We started slowly, keeping our pace even. She was testing me, gauging my aptitude, and I was happy for the challenge. Not that I was a competitive runner, but I was compulsive enough to try and get a few miles in every day, time permitting.

  The wet sand felt strange beneath my toes as we jogged lightly. The water temperature was cold, but after a few minutes, I didn’t care. The familiar rush of blood through my muscles warmed me and propelled me forward.

  We didn’t speak much, save for the occasional direction. We had an easy camaraderie, a shared love of the outdoors and of the sport, and I felt thrilled to have run into her. We ran for probably only a mile and a half when she suggested, “We should probably turn back. I don’t want you to wreck your feet.”

  Following her lead, we turned back around and towards the manor house. Each of the homes we passed seemed impressive to me, but as the DeBourgh manor came into view, it loomed stately over its expanse of beach.

  We had just about returned to the edge of the DeBourgh property when I felt a sharp pain in my foot. “Ouch!” My right ankle twisted violently beneath my weight and I fell forward onto the wet sand. I immediately rolled to my side and clutched my ankle, which burned and throbbed with pain, and when I ventured a glance, I saw the bottom of my foot covered in blood.

  Sometimes the curse of working in healthcare is that I’m exposed to too many worst case scenarios. Upon seeing the blood on my foot, I immediately thought I had a compound fracture, especially since I felt something hard jutting out from the sole. I cursed several times and attempted to regain my composure as Ana knelt beside me and tried to assess the damage.

  After I’d finished spouting invectives, I sat up and leaned back so she could better examine my foot and ankle. She visibly winced. “You’ve got something lodged in your foot. It looks like a broken piece of shell.”