Читать книгу Diagnosis: Expecting Boss's Baby - Jacqueline Diamond - Страница 12

As Natalie made introductions, she hoped her unpredictable mother wouldn’t say anything offensive. Angie sometimes peppered her speech with four-letter words, and her attitudes toward everything from money to the law were anything but conventional.

Angie seemed too impressed by Patrick to fire off any wild opinions, though, and so did her longtime boyfriend. Although a former biker and drug abuser, Clovis had a good heart.

Only a surprised blink revealed Patrick’s reaction to her odd-looking mother. Otherwise, he was the soul of courtesy. Not that Natalie expected anything less from her diplomatic boss.

“Did you make these yourself?” he asked Angie, examining one of the dolls. “They’re delightful.”

“She makes everything except the wind chimes,” said Clovis. “I make those.”

“You’re both very talented,” Patrick said. “I especially like the dolls’ expressions.” They were appealing, Natalie reflected. “I’d like to buy one for my sister.”

“You think it’s her style?” Natalie had seen the ultramodern home Bernie and her ad-exec husband owned. She couldn’t picture the rustic doll fitting in.

“She collects handmade dolls,” Patrick explained. “She calls it her secret passion. I usually have a hard time picking out gifts, so I’d better buy one now.”

The sight of the doll in his grip reminded Natalie of the baby inside her, and she felt a rush of longing to see him hold their child with this same tenderness. Maybe it would happen. And maybe cows would fly.

“I like your boss,” Angie announced. “You should bring him over for dinner sometime.”

“Sure. He’d be welcome.” Clovis rolled himself a cigarette, using tobacco from a pouch.

Angie’s makeshift cooking was the subject of good-humored family jokes, especially about the Thanksgiving when she’d served her guests frozen turkey dinners with made-from-a-mix macaroni and cheese on the side. Patrick would be a good sport, Natalie thought, but she wasn’t sure she wanted him to know her relatives quite that intimately.

“I’ll get back to you on that, Mom,” she said.

Patrick took a couple of dolls into the direct sunlight to make his choice. Other shoppers drifted past, and then a well-dressed man stopped to eye Clovis disapprovingly.

From his high forehead to his sour expression, he was almost a dead ringer for Dr. Sorrell. A few more wrinkles and a small scar on his cheek distinguished Police Chief Finn Sorrell.

“What’s in that cigarette?” he demanded.

“Tobacky,” Clovis drawled. “Want a drag, Chief?” He held out the partly smoked stick.

“I’ve got half a mind to take that in for evaluation,” the chief said. “I guess you wouldn’t be stupid enough to smoke something illegal in public, though.”

“If you’re not interested in shopping, maybe you should go make yourself useful somewhere else, Chief.” Angie had never been known to hold her tongue, even around agents of the law. And unfortunately her family had had its share of brushes with Chief Sorrell’s department.

While none of the family had committed any major illegal acts, there’d been several run-ins, including domestic quarrels that got out of hand. The police chief obviously hadn’t forgotten.

He regarded Natalie with a curled lip. “Helping your mom earn a living?” he asked. “I didn’t figure you’d last long at that hospital job.”

She couldn’t believe his nerve. “I’ve been working there nearly six years,” she said. “I’ve had two promotions in title and none-of-your-business how many raises.”

Angie bristled. “You’ve got no call to insult my daughter.”

“That wasn’t an insult, merely an observation.” Abruptly the smug expression vanished from Finn’s face. “Oh, hello, Patrick. I didn’t see you there.”

“How are you, Finn?” The doctor, who apparently hadn’t heard the conversation, returned one of the dolls and took out his wallet. In his expensive suit and tie, he made a decided contrast to the couple behind the booth.

“What brings you here?” the chief asked.

“My sister’s going to love this doll,” Patrick said by way of an answer. “Angie, we ought to start carrying your work at the gift shop. Could you put the Doctors Circle logo on the dolls’ clothing?”

“Sure thing.” Angie enclosed the doll in a sheet of recycled Christmas wrapping paper. “I’ll bring some over when they’re ready.” She handed him a business card. “You can give that to the head of the gift shop, if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll do that. I’m sure she’ll love them.”

Natalie prayed that the chief wouldn’t say anything to Patrick about her past. She didn’t know whether her boss had ever gone back and read her job application, but if he had, he knew that when asked whether she’d ever been arrested, she’d answered no.

The truth was, she’d spent one night in Juvenile Hall after being swept up along with some misbehaving friends. Also, during her divorce, a drunken, angry Ralph had once claimed she’d stolen his car. The police had booked her before discovering it was merely a family dispute.

The incidents seemed so minor she didn’t figure they counted. After all, she’d been innocent both times. Too bad her arrest record wasn’t the only item Natalie had lied about on the form.

To her relief, Finn Sorrell departed with no further unpleasant remarks. It was unfortunate that he had such a bad attitude toward her family, since the police department generally did a fine job in Serene Beach.

“I’m afraid we have to be leaving,” Patrick said. “I’m due at the yacht club in twenty minutes.”

“Oh!” Natalie didn’t want to make him late for the luncheon. “We’d better hurry.”

After exchanging farewells with her mother and Clovis, the two of them headed for his car. It was too late to mention her pregnancy now even if she’d wanted to. She could hardly drop such a bombshell and then send Patrick on his way.

Besides, the encounter with Chief Sorrell had stirred Natalie’s insecurities. She hoped Amy, with her counseling expertise, could help her figure out what to do.

“YOU CAN’T TELL anybody I’m pregnant,” said Natalie, who’d burst out with her story the moment she arrived and found Amy by the pool. Fortunately the other condominium dwellers must have preferred the beach today, leaving the two women with the place to themselves.

“Of course not! I’d never betray a confidence.” Her friend began to dry herself with rough thoroughness. She’d completed a brisk swim just as Natalie joined her, and had been so fascinated by the story that she’d stood there dripping while she listened. “Who’s the father? Anybody I know?”

Although she’d intended to spill everything, Natalie found that she couldn’t. For one thing, telling Amy might put her in a difficult position, since Patrick was indirectly her boss, too. For another, it was simply too private a matter to share. “I’d rather not say. Sorry.”

“That’s okay.” Amy sat on a chaise longue and began toweling her hair. Long-legged and dark-haired, she moved with a coltish lack of vanity. When her hair was semidry, she perched on the chair cross-legged, her elbows resting on her knees.

“You must think I’m a mess,” Natalie said, “sleeping with a guy I can’t talk about and ending up pregnant.”

“I don’t think that at all,” Amy answered. “In a way, I’m envious.”

“Why on earth?”

Her friend shrugged. “It’s just that I’m such a tomboy, I’ve never…I mean, I’m thirty-three years old and I still haven’t…”

“Had a baby?” Natalie finished for her. “That’s not unusual. You’ve got lots of time.”

“I hope so,” her friend said. “Anyway, please go on.”

“It’s going to be really awkward telling this guy. I’m sure having kids with me is the furthest thing from his mind. Plus, I kind of misled him about my past,” Natalie said.

“You’re much too sensitive about your family,” Amy said. “Nobody else blames you for their weirdness.”

“Chief Sorrell does.”

“Well, I certainly hope you’re not pregnant by him!” They both laughed.

“As I was saying, I don’t know what’s going to happen when I tell the father.” Natalie tilted back her recliner another notch to get comfortable. “We view the world so differently, it’s like we grew up on two different planets.”

Her friend reflected briefly. Then, “Before you tackle the guy, have Heather confirm your pregnancy. Those home kits aren’t perfect.”

Heather Rourke was an obstetrician on the Doctors Circle staff who sometimes ate lunch with Natalie and Amy. The three of them had similar tastes in movies and books, and twice had gone together to see ice-skating shows.

“She’s awfully busy,” Natalie said dubiously. “I mean, now that she’s taken on more infertility patients, she has a full schedule. Not too busy to see a friend, though, I guess.”

“She’ll work you in,” Amy said. “You know, I hear Patrick’s hiring some big shot to head the new infertility office. I hope Heather gets along with him or her.”

“Heather gets along with everybody,” Natalie said. “Okay, I’ll give her a call.”

Amy finger-combed her long hair, which fell in a tangle around her shoulders. She had a natural beauty of which she seemed unaware. “If she confirms that you’re pregnant, you’ve got to face this boyfriend of yours. Just be prepared. Guys don’t always see things the way we do.”

“Such as what, for instance?” Natalie said. “I mean, how many ways are there to view a pregnancy?”

“He might bring up adoption,” Amy said. “To a guy, that can sound like an attractive way out.”

“Adoption?” At this stage of her life, Natalie couldn’t imagine going through a pregnancy and then relinquishing the baby. “No way!”

“Don’t overreact if he suggests it,” Amy said. “Men can be clueless. But keep a good thought. Maybe he loves you.”

Natalie sighed. “It’s not that simple. This man comes from society. You know what my upbringing was like. I’m in over my head.”

“Natalie, you’ve got class. Everybody knows it.”

“Everybody except Dr. Sorrell and his brother,” she said. “And maybe I don’t have as much class as you think.”

“In my book, you do,” her friend said loyally.

Speaking of Chief Sorrell reminded Natalie about the crafts bazaar. She dug into her shopping bag. “By the way, I brought you something.”

“Nat!” Amy leaned forward. “You’re too generous.”

“It’s fun to do nice things for my pals.” Natalie handed her the ceramic wishing well. “Drop in a coin and your wish will come true.”

“I wouldn’t dare wish for what I want,” Amy said.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared of getting in over my head, too,” she said. “No, don’t ask questions. I’m not going to say another word about it.”

Natalie didn’t pry. Over the years she’d discovered that, like her, Amy and Heather preferred to keep parts of their lives private. This sort of reserve was one of the things the three women had in common.

AS IT TURNED OUT, Heather’s first available appointment wasn’t until Wednesday, so Natalie vowed to follow Amy’s advice and do nothing until then. Keeping such a volatile secret proved more uncomfortable than she had imagined, though.

Working in a facility full of doctors and nurses, she felt as if everyone could read her condition on her face. Surely they noticed the telltale early signs of pregnancy like flushed cheeks and frequent trips to the bathroom.

Natalie saw Doctors Circle differently now. The bubbling fountain in the courtyard, despite its cherubic sculpture, made her feel queasy. On the other hand, the two front wings and the Birthing Center with its white stucco walls gave her a sense of being surrounded by warmth.

When her duties took her into the Birthing Center, Natalie dawdled as she passed the labor-and-delivery area with its busy triage center. Eight months from now, she might be a patient here. The possibility seemed unreal and miraculous and scary.

“Natalie?” Patrick asked. They were standing by the antepartum area where pregnant women came for ultrasounds, amniocentesis and monitoring. “Let’s eat at the hospital cafeteria, if you don’t mind.” He made a point of checking out the food quality from time to time, to make sure it maintained high standards.

“You bet.” Since she had one more day to wait before her appointment with Heather, Natalie’s nerves had nearly vanquished her appetite. But not entirely.

She tucked the color-scheme portfolio under her arm. During the next few months the whole complex was to receive a facelift to coordinate with the remodeled infertility center. She’d been trailing Patrick through the buildings as they visualized how the designer’s plans might look.

Gorgeous, that was how. Natalie loved the choices of turquoise, mint-green and sunny yellow, played out in a variety of window treatments and wall coverings.

The cafeteria would benefit from a touchup, that was for sure, she reflected as the two of them got in line. The large room had a lovely vista of a plant-shaded patio, with an outdoor, as well as indoor, eating area, but the nondescript paint had become discolored and the linoleum was worn.

Patrick chose a table in the middle of the crowded room, one of the least-attractive places to sit. Typically, he was too busy assessing the quality of the food to pay attention to his surroundings.

“We need to update the salads,” he said. “I’m hardly a food critic, but I find this boring. What do you think?”

Natalie glanced at her bowl of iceberg lettuce, shredded cabbage and a single cherry tomato. “How about some sun-dried tomatoes and feta cheese?”

And a declaration of undying love on your part, she added mentally. Or at least a hint that you’d like to get me alone on your yacht again, so that before I risk telling you everything, I know that our interlude meant something to you.

“Good idea, although the cheese should be served on the side, since not everyone can eat it. Also, the Italian dressing ought to be made with olive oil, instead of soybean oil. It’s better for your heart.” Patrick made a note on his Palm organizer.

How could the man sit opposite her and remain so blind to her state of mind? Natalie wondered. But then, after working for him for five years, she knew how single-minded Patrick was. Time for a little gentle prompting.

“Now that we’ve resolved the salad situation, what do you say we move on to other topics?” she murmured.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Take the eggplant parmesan. It’s not bad at all.”

She wanted to give him a poke. “Aside from the food,” she persisted, “is there anything you’d like to discuss?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.” Looking up, he met her gaze. “Something personal.”

Her heart rate sped up. Finally he’d taken notice of her. “Yes?”

Patrick smiled. “I just want to say I’m glad we’re back to normal.”

“Normal?”

“My behavior on the yacht was inappropriate,” he explained. “I don’t blame you for being standoffish afterward. I’m glad we’re back to our old selves.”

Was that what he wanted, to go on forever as boss and secretary? Sadly Natalie reflected that that was no longer an option.

Sooner or later the truth would become all too apparent. She just hoped it was a whole lot later.

“I’m sure we’ll catch some flak from the cafeteria manager about changing the seating around,” Patrick continued, failing to notice her silence. “But I like the designer’s idea of creating privacy zones. This place feels too much like a high-school cafeteria.”

“Right.” At the moment Natalie wouldn’t care if the designer made people eat on the floor, but she had no intention of saying so.

“Everyone’s going to have to be flexible, with all the changes we’re planning. They can’t fight their own petty turf wars. It’ll be worth it.” Patrick went on discussing the upcoming modifications.

Gradually, as she listened, Natalie forgot her irritation. She loved hearing the excitement in Patrick’s voice and seeing the fire in his brown eyes. When he leaned forward to make a point, his intensity was like a caress, sending thrills down her spine.

She ached to touch his face and bring his mouth to hers. Would it ever happen again?

After they finished eating, they left the Birthing Center and cut across the courtyard. From nearby came the lilting sound of a chorus singing a hymn. The Serenity Fellowship Church, located next door to the medical center, was known for its choir, which practiced several afternoons a week.

The central courtyard, with its fountain and brand-name coffee kiosk adjacent to a breezeway, attracted a cheerful assortment of brown-bagging staffers and family members waiting for patients. Across a small round table, two women were talking earnestly. At another, an elderly couple beamed as their grandchild read from a picture book.

A wistful look flashed across Patrick’s face. Following his gaze, Natalie saw two women carrying infants into the Well-Baby Clinic on the first floor of the West Wing. Her spirits lifted. Maybe he was eager to have a child, in which case he might not be so upset when she told him….

“Spencer Sorrell doesn’t know how good he has it.” Patrick kept his voice low so no one else could hear. “He wants to be a full-time administrator and resents having to examine babies. That’s the best part of his job, if only he realized it.”

“Do you want to be a pediatrician again?” Natalie asked.

He shook his head abruptly. “Of course not, when I can be accomplishing so much in administration. You’ve seen the statistics, how birth defects and infant mortality in Serene Beach have dropped each year since this center was established. What more could I ask?”

“If you like babies so much, I’m surprised you haven’t had any of your own.” As soon as the words slipped out, she wanted to call them back. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”

“You know what I’m like,” Patrick said. “If I had my way, I’d move into my office full-time.”

“You seemed to enjoy talking to that little boy at the crafts fair,” Natalie said. “Maybe if you spent more time around kids…”

She stopped when they turned right into the East Wing and came within earshot of other people. The workmen sat eating their sack lunches amid piles of sawdust and lumber, so there was no racket from the high-power saws.

On the other side of the foyer, clients were arriving and departing at the radiology department, which provided outpatient mammograms, ultrasounds and X rays. There were also visitors to the laboratory, which lay between radiology and the work zone, and which usually caught the brunt of the noise. After the reconstruction began, some wag had dubbed the area No Man’s Lab.

As Natalie and Patrick stepped out of the elevator on the second floor, she saw through the doorway that someone was waiting beside her desk. As they approached, the visitor stood up.

A tall woman with ash-blond hair and blue eyes much like Natalie’s, she wore a too-short skirt and a top that failed to cover her navel. It was Candy, her oldest sister.

She rarely popped into Natalie’s life except to ask for a favor. Heaven knew what kind of fix she’d gotten herself into this time.

If only Patrick would bowl right into his office without noticing her! She wasn’t that lucky, however.

Hurrying toward them, Candy grabbed Natalie’s arm. “Sis, I’ve got to talk to you.” She stared at Patrick. “Who’s this? Are you a doctor?”

“Yes, I am,” he said.

“What kind?”

He blinked, a bit taken aback by her brashness. “A pediatrician.”

“Too bad,” she said. “Nat, I’ve absolutely got to have liposuction.”

“We can talk about this some other time.” Natalie squirmed. “Candy, I’m working.”

“I know that!” Her sister tightened her grip on Natalie’s arm. “I’ve got a shot at a swimsuit-modeling job next month. Have you tried on one of those new suits? Never mind, you’re only twenty-nine. Wait’ll you’re…thirty.” She’d just knocked three years off her age. “Now here’s what I want you to do.”

Patrick stood listening, making no move to go into his office. Judging by his expression, he was either shocked or fascinated by this strange creature.

Until now, Natalie had managed to avoid exposing him to her overbearing sister. Her luck had finally run out. She could only stand there and hope the racket downstairs would resume and be loud enough to drown Candy out.

ALTHOUGH HE’D WORKED with Nat for five years, Patrick hadn’t met any of her family until this past weekend. They were proving to be an interesting bunch.

“My insurance won’t cover liposuction and I can’t afford it on a night clerk’s salary,” Candy continued. “But you work at a medical center! You can find out how to fudge the paperwork so I can make the liposuction look like another kind of operation, something that’s covered.”

“That’s fraud,” Natalie said.

“Everybody does it,” scoffed her sister.

“Besides, the doctors at our clinics don’t perform liposuctions,” she said.

“Well, not Dr. Pedes here, obviously.” The woman pronounced it Peeds, as in Pediatrics. Patrick had to subdue a chuckle at being so casually dismissed, when most people treated physicians with excessive deference. “Maybe one of the doctors can perform some minor surgery on me and suck out the fat while he’s at it.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Natalie said. “Candy, I’m not going to help you cheat your insurance company, and no ethical doctor would perform unnecessary surgery.”

“It is necessary! If I can’t get myself in shape in a hurry, I’m out of a career,” Candy protested, flinging back her long hair.

“How much does this operation cost?” Natalie asked.

“A couple of thousand dollars.”

“I’ll lend it to you,” she said. “But you’re paying me back in installments, starting next month.”

“All right.” Her sister made a face. “Although I think you’re being a chump. All you have to do is help and we could arrange this for free.”

“No.”

“It’s your money,” Candy said.

“On loan!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll let you know the exact amount when I get the surgery scheduled. Nice to meet you, Doc.”

“Nice meeting you, too,” Patrick said. Remembering how much work he had to do, he escaped to his office.

Before he closed the door, he heard Natalie’s sister say, “Hey, is that guy your boss?”

“Yes.”

“He’s got a great bod,” was the response.

Patrick thought he heard his secretary groan. He was more grateful than ever that his own ultra-dependable sister made his life easier, not more complicated.