asked.
She nodded, but he knew he hadnât heard the last of it. She wanted to talk it out. To rehash the whole episode. Over and over. But he was not going to be a party to that kind of pointless recrimination. He turned to his computer, stared at the screen until she got the hint and went out to the waiting room to wait for patients.
That evening at five she closed and locked the office after heâd seen a handful of patients with minor complaints. As heâd told Hayley, they didnât need a high-priced surgeon. Anyone with a shred of common sense could have dealt with their problems. Mattie, for example. But that wasnât the way it worked. Patients wanted to know they were in the hands of an M.D. They wanted to see his diploma on the wall. So he hung it there. And stared at it. And waited.
He felt useless and bored. He was used to a frantic pace. Of having his beeper going off constantly. Of performing surgery and making rounds and lecturing med students.
Hayley offered him a ride home, but he declined. He was already regretting that heâd asked her to dinner. So, no doubt, was she. Spending time together was not wise. Heâd told her it wasnât going to work, his returning to New Hope, living and working with her. He was right. Heâdonly asked her to dinner as a courtesy. He owed her dinner and he was going to take her to dinner.
She met him at the big oak door with Bancroft House carved into a thick cedar shingle that hung over the door from loops of wrought-iron. His gaze traveled over her faded jeans and pullover. Dressed like that, her hair pulled back from her face with a barrette, she looked so much the way sheâd looked in high school. A heart-stopping combination of innocence and sensuality he hadnât been able to resist then or now. And yet she was not the same at all. She had a smooth grace about her now, a quiet confidence that said she was not a woman to trifle with. She was a woman who would not settle for anything but the best. Who in the hell had she married? Why wasnât she still married?
He clenched his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her and kissing her. To shake her up. To make her admit sheâd missed him. That every time sheâd made love over the past seventeen years, sheâd thought of him as heâd thought of her. Hah. Not likely. Why else would she have married someone else? It didnât last, but she must have loved the guy. Damn her for loving someone else. Sheâd once told him she would never love anyone but him. She wouldnât remember that.
And damn her calm, cool demeanor. He glanced up at the wide staircase, half expecting to hear her motherâs voice calling down the stairs as sheâd once done when he had the nerve to come to the front door. Hayley, who is it? Whoâs at the door? Itâs not that boy, is it? Close the door. Get rid of him. It is him, isnât it? The one from the wrong side of town. The one whoâs always in trouble.
âI thought weâd go to that seafood restaurant in Newport if itâs still there,â he said, jerking himself back to thepresent after the silence had lasted entirely too long for comfort.
âOh, I canât. I just got a call. Iâve got a couple coming in from Portland. I want to be here when they arrive. Iâm sorry. Some other time?â she suggested. But she didnât look sorry. She looked relieved. And what if she was making it up to avoid having dinner with him?
âOf course,â he said tersely. It was a bad idea, anyway, spending any more time with her than necessary. Already it was going to be every afternoon. But he didnât feel relieved, not the way she did. He felt let down. He hadnât realized how much heâd looked forward to spending time with her, spending money on her, too, showing her just how far heâd come, how much heâd changed. But that was ridiculous. And immaterial. She knew heâd
She nodded, but he knew he hadnât heard the last of it. She wanted to talk it out. To rehash the whole episode. Over and over. But he was not going to be a party to that kind of pointless recrimination. He turned to his computer, stared at the screen until she got the hint and went out to the waiting room to wait for patients.
That evening at five she closed and locked the office after heâd seen a handful of patients with minor complaints. As heâd told Hayley, they didnât need a high-priced surgeon. Anyone with a shred of common sense could have dealt with their problems. Mattie, for example. But that wasnât the way it worked. Patients wanted to know they were in the hands of an M.D. They wanted to see his diploma on the wall. So he hung it there. And stared at it. And waited.
He felt useless and bored. He was used to a frantic pace. Of having his beeper going off constantly. Of performing surgery and making rounds and lecturing med students.
Hayley offered him a ride home, but he declined. He was already regretting that heâd asked her to dinner. So, no doubt, was she. Spending time together was not wise. Heâd told her it wasnât going to work, his returning to New Hope, living and working with her. He was right. Heâdonly asked her to dinner as a courtesy. He owed her dinner and he was going to take her to dinner.
She met him at the big oak door with Bancroft House carved into a thick cedar shingle that hung over the door from loops of wrought-iron. His gaze traveled over her faded jeans and pullover. Dressed like that, her hair pulled back from her face with a barrette, she looked so much the way sheâd looked in high school. A heart-stopping combination of innocence and sensuality he hadnât been able to resist then or now. And yet she was not the same at all. She had a smooth grace about her now, a quiet confidence that said she was not a woman to trifle with. She was a woman who would not settle for anything but the best. Who in the hell had she married? Why wasnât she still married?
He clenched his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her and kissing her. To shake her up. To make her admit sheâd missed him. That every time sheâd made love over the past seventeen years, sheâd thought of him as heâd thought of her. Hah. Not likely. Why else would she have married someone else? It didnât last, but she must have loved the guy. Damn her for loving someone else. Sheâd once told him she would never love anyone but him. She wouldnât remember that.
And damn her calm, cool demeanor. He glanced up at the wide staircase, half expecting to hear her motherâs voice calling down the stairs as sheâd once done when he had the nerve to come to the front door. Hayley, who is it? Whoâs at the door? Itâs not that boy, is it? Close the door. Get rid of him. It is him, isnât it? The one from the wrong side of town. The one whoâs always in trouble.
âI thought weâd go to that seafood restaurant in Newport if itâs still there,â he said, jerking himself back to thepresent after the silence had lasted entirely too long for comfort.
âOh, I canât. I just got a call. Iâve got a couple coming in from Portland. I want to be here when they arrive. Iâm sorry. Some other time?â she suggested. But she didnât look sorry. She looked relieved. And what if she was making it up to avoid having dinner with him?
âOf course,â he said tersely. It was a bad idea, anyway, spending any more time with her than necessary. Already it was going to be every afternoon. But he didnât feel relieved, not the way she did. He felt let down. He hadnât realized how much heâd looked forward to spending time with her, spending money on her, too, showing her just how far heâd come, how much heâd changed. But that was ridiculous. And immaterial. She knew heâd
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