Читать книгу Practice Husband - Judith McWilliams - Страница 10

Three

“Change is the essence of life,” Addy muttered to herself as she closed the back door of her parents’ home behind her and headed toward her car. Climbing behind the wheel, she turned on the ignition and pulled away.

Unable to resist the temptation, she stopped at the end of the driveway and stared back at the house. For a moment, an overwhelming feeling of grief filled her at all that she’d lost. Of the people who had lived there that she’d never see again. Then the feeling of intense sadness ebbed, leaving room for memories to surface. Memories of sitting beside her grandmother at the kitchen table and sneaking sips of her coffee when her mother wasn’t looking. Memories of her mother standing at the stove cooking supper while Addy perched on a stool and told her all about her school day. Memories of sitting on the old rocker on the front porch and waiting for her father to come home from work.

Addy closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of warmth and love that always came when she thought of her parents. It was a feeling she could call up anytime, she suddenly realized. The feeling was part of her. She didn’t need the house to bring it to mind.

Addy nodded decisively, feeling fractionally better about her decision to sell. It really was time to move on. She pulled out into the road. Would her children someday remember her with the same sense of happiness with which she remembered her parents? She pondered the unsettling idea as she covered the short distance to Joe’s plant.

The visitors’ parking spaces in front of the plant were filed, so Addy drove around to the back of the building and parked there. Making sure that her car door was locked, she started toward the offices, only to pause when she noticed a sign that said Nurse’s Office. Wondering what kind of facilities Joe provided for his workers, Addy pushed the door open and stepped inside.

She found herself in a starkly sterile room. The walls were painted an antiseptic white and an institutional light gray tile covered the floor. Except for six gray plastic chairs lined up against the wall, the room was empty. There were no magazines, no plants. Nothing to relieve the oppressive barrenness.

Addy shivered. It might be adequate for treating the body, but the room was a total flop at providing comfort to the senses.

Curious as to what type of person was content to work in these bleak surroundings, Addy walked toward the open door at the back of the room labeled Nurse. She was about to knock when she heard a sharp, feminine voice from inside snap, “No! It isn’t my job.”

The woman was answered by a softly apologetic male voice, “But I just want to know what to do about all the ear infections my son has.”

“My job is to treat accidents that occur in the workplace, not to be giving you advice on raising your kids.”

Addy frowned. What kind of nurse had Joe hired? Any professional worth her salt should be happy to pass on any health information that might help.

“Go see a doctor,” the woman continued, “and quit wasting my time.”

“I have.” The man’s voice sharpened. “But he just prescribes something and, when I try to get information, he brushes me off.”

Rather like the nurse here, Addy thought.

“That’s not my problem,” the woman said. “It’s time for my break.”

Addy hurriedly left, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping. It would appear that there were some gaps in the health service that Joe’s company provided. And dangerous ones, too. Sometimes, information could be more important than a prescription—a fact that father had instinctively known. Not that his insight appeared to be doing him much good.

Addy frowned thoughtfully as she pushed open the doors to the factory’s main offices. She was at loose ends at the moment. She had intended to see if she couldn’t do some volunteer work for one of the various social agencies in town, but maybe she wouldn’t have to go that far. It appeared to her that there was real need right here for someone with her skills. The plant needed a children’s clinic. She could include regular checkups and classes dealing with various children’s health issues.

If Joe would let her do it. Reality put the brakes on her enthusiasm. He might not be willing to let her use the facilities of his clinic. He might not want to upset his nurse by bringing in someone else.

Addy chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. She didn’t know what he would say, but she did know that the very worst thing that would happen would be that he would say no. In which case, she wouldn’t be any worse off than she was. And he might well say yes. Joe was such a strange mixture of hardheaded cynicism and caring, it was impossible to tell what his reaction to her request might be.

“Ah, Miss Edson.” The immaculately groomed receptionist gave her a bright, professional smile. “Mr. Barring-ton said that you would be stopping by this morning. He said to send you right through to his office.”

“Thank you.” Addy resisted the impulse to check the front of her lemon-yellow shirt for dirt smudges. She wondered how long it took the woman each morning to achieve such polished perfection. It was probably an inherited trait, she thought glumly, like being born with musical ability.

Addy started down the hall, her footsteps unconsciously quickening at the thought of seeing Joe. She entered the reception area outside his office, pausing when she realized that she wasn’t the only person waiting.

There was a thin, harassed-looking man who appeared to be in his late thirties sitting in a brown leather chair. His head was bent, and he was staring fixedly at the design in the Oriental carpet. His shoulders were hunched defensively as if he were expecting a blow, and Addy’s soft heart was touched. Poor soul, she thought, and went over to sit down across from him, intending to distract him from his obviously unhappy thoughts.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully.

The man jumped and gave her an uncertain smile.

“It hasn’t been, so far,” he muttered. He glanced worriedly at the door to Joe’s office and then down at his watch. “What time is your appointment with Barrington for?”

“Well, I don’t actually have one,” Addy said. “I’m just here to sign a few papers. Is he running late?”

“That’s one way of putting it. My appointment was for almost an hour ago.” He sighed despondently. “Which probably means that he isn’t all that interested in our meeting.”

“Not necessarily. Maybe he got an overseas call. Or maybe he spilled coffee all over his suit and he had to send it out to get cleaned and he’s waiting for it to come back.”

Which would mean that he was sitting there in his underwear, Addy thought, as her mind followed her nonsense through to its logical conclusion. What kind of underwear did Joe wear? The tantalizing thought drifted through her mind. Silk boxer shorts? Soft and smooth and eminently touchable? Or perhaps plain white cotton briefs that would fit snugly over his—

The man’s chuckle broke into her erotic thoughts, and she blinked, refocusing on the man.

“Thank you, Miss—” He paused expectantly.

“Edson. Addy Edson,” she responded, rather surprised at how easily she’d handled the move from stranger to introduced stranger. Of course, there was nothing even remotely sexual in their encounter, she conceded. But even so, any conversation with a man was good practice.

“I’m David Edwards.” He held out a hand, and Addy shook it.

“I—” he began and then broke off as the door opened and Joe appeared.

Addy turned, David Edwards forgotten at the sight of Joe.

He was wearing another of those impeccably tailored suits. Its pale gray material hugged his shoulders, subtly emphasizing their width. The pristine whiteness of his cotton shirt emphasized his light tan, and Addy felt her fingers itch with a desire to rub her fingers over his cheek to see if it was as smooth as it looked. She automatically clenched her fingers to try to dispel the urge, unsettled by the intensity of her physical reaction.

“Mr. Barrington,” David began, only to be cut off by Joe’s curt nod.

“Edwards,” Joe said. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“I don’t mind waiting, and you were here first.” Addy gave David an encouraging smile. If Joe didn’t put the man out of his misery pretty soon, she was liable to get to practice her CPR skills on him.

To her surprise, Joe scowled at her. “I’ll see Edwards after you.”

“That’s okay,” David assured her, and Addy, confused by the undercurrents she could feel but didn’t understand, followed Joe into his office.

Addy watched him curiously as he closed his door with a decided snap. “I really don’t have anything else to do.”

“He can wait.”

“But should he?” She probed Joe’s tense attitude.

“Have you got a hankering for the country-club set?”

“I am not a snob, but I’m beginning to have my doubts about you,” Addy replied, defending herself.

“Me!” Joe looked dumbfounded.

“You sound very much like a reverse snob,” she insisted. “Either variety is a pain.”

Joe pressed his lips together and glared at her. “You don’t understand.”

“That much is clear,” she conceded. “So explain.”

Joe shoved his long fingers through his thick, dark hair and finally said, “Do you know who he is?”

“He said his name was David Edwards. Isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Joe bit the word off.

“Is there supposed to be some special significance to his name?” she finally asked, thoroughly confused.

“You don’t remember the son of the town’s leading citizen?” he mocked. “He owns that huge, white, pillared place just south of town.”

“Oh, that Edwards.” Addy shrugged. “I don’t think I ever meet him before. Is he a competitor of yours?” she asked, trying to figure out why Joe disliked the man so.

“Hardly!” Joe’s tone was scathing. “He’s got no more business sense than you do.”

Addy looked down her nose at him. “There is no need to be so superior. For all I know I could have lots of business sense. I simply have no interest in finding out. And, besides, having business sense is not a measure of character.”

“I told you,” Joe said tightly, “he’s an Edwards.”

“So you did. What you didn’t tell me was why being born an Edwards should qualify him as a social pariah.”

Joe stared at her, his eyes narrowed to blue slits. Addy stared back, refusing to be intimidated by his forbidding demeanor. This was Joe, she reminded herself. Her old friend.

“Don’t get mixed up with the bastard,” Joe ordered.

“Chance would be a fine thing,” she said dryly.

“I saw the way he was looking at you,” Joe insisted.

“Like he’s just found a friendly face.”

“Well, he had,” Addy pointed out reasonably. “Why don’t you like the guy? Does he cheat on his income tax?”

“Can’t you just take my word for it?” Joe said in exasperation.

“No,” she said succinctly, feeling a strange exhilaration in arguing with Joe. “Part of relating to a man is learning how to have meaningful discussions. This is a meaningful discussion.”

Joe stared at her for a long moment as if considering his options, and just when Addy was beginning to think that he wasn’t going to say anything else, he dropped a bombshell.

“David Edwards is my half brother.”

Addy opened her mouth, closed it, swallowed and then muttered, “Run that by me again.”

“We have the same father but different mothers,” Joe elaborated.

Addy dropped into the chair across from Joe’s desk and simply stared at him, having a great deal of trouble taking it all in. “I never heard anything about it before,” she finally said.

“As far as I know, no one else knew. My mother went to work for Edwards right out of secretarial school, and he promptly seduced her into an affair. When she got pregnant a couple of years later, he broke the relationship off and abandoned her.”