The Single Dad Finds a Wife by Felicia Mason

estate the sisters affectionately called The Compound within a stone’s throw of her mother’s house had its advantages at times. This was not one of them.
    She thought about driving out to the farmhouse. But all that would do was remind her of just how precarious a situation that property might be in if David and the mayor got what they wanted. The very notion depressed her.
    She picked up her mobile and speed-dialed Winter, the sister she could count on to get her mind off land deals and medical trauma. Even as she waited for the call to connect, she thought of young Jeremy Camden. He was such a sweet little boy. Like his father, he’d managed to squiggle into her consciousness in ways that she didn’t want to explore too deeply for fear of what that excavation might reveal.
    â€œHey, Doc Sis. I was just talking about you,” Winter said by way of hello.
    The greeting made Spring smile. She was Doc Sis. Autumn was Coach Sis and Summer had the title Perfect Miss from the second-eldest Darling daughter. The reference was to Summer’s pageant days and her reign as Miss Cedar Springs.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Spring asked.
    â€œGetting ready to cut into a slice of strawberry cheesecake.”
    Spring groaned. “You’re at Sweetings?”
    â€œBetter than that,” Winter said.
    Spring knew what that meant. Winter was at Summer’s place. And if Summer was baking, there had been some sort of trauma or drama related to the wedding planning. “How much is left?”
    â€œI’ll hide a slice for you.”
    She didn’t have a shift at the Common Ground clinic today. Deciding that talking about Summer’s wedding plans was preferable to thinking about David Camden’s plans to turn her farmhouse and land into a condo development with convenience stores, she hung up with Winter and got up from the bench in City Hall Park.
    Spring paused at the park bench where the elderly black man still sat. He’d placed the cup on the ground and watched as she approached.
    â€œHi, Sweet Willie,” she said.
    He bowed his head as if tipping a hat to her. “Afternoon, Doc. Heard I missed a good one in there.”
    Spring scrunched her face up as she sat next to him. “That’s one word to describe it.” She looked him over, trying to be subtle about the cursory exam but knowing he wasn’t fooled. She opened her bag.
    â€œUh-uh, Doc. I don’t need a handout and I gots plenty of them cards of yours for when I decide I need some doctoring.” He tapped his forehead. “You done give me so many of ’em, I gots the address and the numbers memorized.”
    Then, as if to prove his words true, he rattled off the address of the Common Ground Free Clinic and both its main telephone number and her mobile number.
    She smiled and closed the bag. “All right. You’re on to my tricks.”
    He grinned, and Spring realized that for a homeless man, Sweet Willie was awfully grounded and seemed at peace. Other homeless men and women that she encountered at the clinic or on the street seemed to have a ready tale of woe to share with anyone who would listen.
    Sweet Willie seemed, for lack of a better word, content.
    She wondered if maybe not doing so much was the key to contentment. She’d been searching for it for a while, but that particular emotional state always seemed to elude her. So she’d thrust her mind and her body into patient care at the hospital and at the clinic and during the hours when she wasn’t doing that, she worked to restore old buildings and educate people about the history of the city.
    Maybe she needed to adopt Sweet Willie’s model. Just sit on a park bench on a pretty day and watch the world go by.
    She regarded the man. “Would you at least let me give you a ride somewhere?”
    He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m right where I need to be.”
    She patted his back and rose.