Читать книгу The Marriage Portrait - Pamela Bauer, Pamela Bauer - Страница 11

“Good morning, Dr. Mac. And happy birthday.” The young woman sitting at the reception desk in the clinic handed him a small stack of pink slips. “Your messages.”

“Thank you, Jenny. For both the birthday wish and these,” he said, waving the pink slips in the air.

“I put up a sign. I hope you don’t mind,” she said, nodding toward the waiting area where a computer-generated banner hung on the wall. It read, “Bark for Dr. Mac’s birthday.”

Dr. Michael McFerrin wished the staff didn’t see birthdays as an occasion to celebrate. If it were up to him, he’d treat his as if it were just another day of the week. Get up, go to work and come home. No fuss. No big deal.

Unfortunately, Jenny—and he guessed the other employees at the clinic—thought his birthday merited more than a casual “oh, by the way, happy birthday” wish in passing. He discovered this was true when he stepped into his office and saw the cake. Suddenly, behind him was the entire office staff.

“That looks like an awful lot of fire for one cake,” he quipped as the tech, Tabitha, began lighting the candles.

“Quick, make a wish,” she said, when all thirty-five had been lit.

Mac wasn’t one to make wishes. He closed his eyes briefly to humor them, then with a deep breath, blew out the candles. One remained lit. He blew once more, it went out and then burst into flame again.

“All right. So who put the trick candle on the cake?” he asked, surveying the small group gathered around him.

“No wishes for you this year,” Tabitha said smartly as she pulled the candles from the frosting. “Who’s having cake?”

“I haven’t had breakfast,” Mac remarked.

“Sir, this is breakfast,” Tabitha retorted, cutting the cake with a large knife. “I’ll cut you a big one.”

“First he has to open his present,” Jenny reminded everyone.

Present? He squirmed uncomfortably. “Didn’t we agree last year that there were going to be no more presents?” He plastered his sternest look on his face.

“You agreed,” Tabitha retorted. “We didn’t.”

Jenny produced a brightly wrapped package. He fumbled with the gold ribbon that refused to come undone. Finally Jenny reached over and clipped it with scissors. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Inside the box was a T-shirt that had a cartoon drawing of a shaggy mutt on the front. Below was a caption that read “In Dog Years I’m Dead.”

He grinned. “Very funny, ladies.”

“We know you’re not dead, sir,” Jenny spoke up.

“Well, Jenny does anyway,” Tabitha quipped. “She answers your private line. What’s the total so far this month?”

“Only seven. He’s slipping,” Jenny answered.

“Oh-oh. He is getting old, isn’t he?” Lynn, the other vet on staff, teased.

Michael didn’t need to ask to what the number seven referred. His all-female staff made no secret of the poll they had each month. Instead of having sports pools as most offices had, they had a Dr. Mac pool. Every woman in the office put in five bucks and made a guess as to how many women would bring in a healthy pet just for the chance to spend a few minutes with him.

“Dr. Mac, you should get married and put all those poor women out of their misery,” Jenny advised.

He sighed. “At my age, Jenny, all the good ones are gone.”

“You’re just not looking in the right places,” Tabitha told him, handing him a large square of chocolate cake iced with white frosting.

Michael wasn’t really looking at all. He’d never had to. Women found him. Ever since he’d played football in high school and college, he hadn’t lacked for female companions. And as for marriage, he’d never thought much about it. Why should he? He had a great life as a single guy and he didn’t need to complicate it with the kind of love romanticized by songs and movies.

“Are you still dating Julia?” Tabitha wanted to know.

“Oh, good heavens, no. She’s gone. It’s a Colleen now,” Jenny answered.

“It’s nobody right now,” Michael corrected her.

“That might change real soon,” Phyllis, the lab tech, said smugly.

“Of course it’ll change,” another piped up. “It’s simply a matter of time.”

Michael just grinned in amusement. Over the years he’d grown accustomed to their good-natured teasing.

“Yes, it is. Listen to this,” Phyllis commanded everyone, waving the newspaper in midair. “It’s Dr. Mac’s horoscope for having a birthday today,” she announced, then cleared her throat before reading aloud. “‘You may help someone who is down on his or her luck by buying his or her wares.’”

“That’s nothing new. Dr. Mac does that all the time. He takes Henry’s products even though he knows we won’t be able to use them all,” Jenny reminded everyone.

Phyllis continued. “Your lucky money months are September and January.”

“Guess that means we should wait to hit him up for a raise, eh?” Tabitha quipped.

Phyllis smiled, then went on. “‘Listen to the advice of a close relative and act upon it.’”

“I don’t have any close relatives except Tessie, and I always take her advice,” Michael said.

“And so you should. She’s a wise woman,” Phyllis told him, then finished reading the horoscope. “Now here’s the best part. ‘Take a romantic risk in the next three weeks because you’re more emotionally available to love now than you’ve ever been in the past.’”

“Oh-oh. Maybe Dr. Mac is finally going to meet his match,” Tabitha said with a challenging gleam in her eye.

Michael laughed. “You ladies know I can’t give my heart away. It belongs to all of you.”

That produced a chorus of groans.

“Spoken like a true bachelor,” Lynn quipped.

Michael threw up his hands in defense. “Hey! I’m only thirty-five. Even if that is old in dog years, it’s young in man years. And you ladies know I’m perfectly happy being your boss and dedicating my time and energy to what I love most—my patients. Speaking of which, aren’t there any here this morning?”

“They can wait,” Tabitha assured him. “Finish your cake.”

“And tell us your plans for this evening,” Jenny added.

“I believe Tessie is cooking a special meal for me. I offered to take her out to dinner, but she insisted on cooking it herself,” he answered.

“And so you should let her. She’s enjoys fussing over you,” Tabitha said. “You’re lucky to have such a wonderful woman for a mother.”

Michael couldn’t argue that one. He was very fortunate indeed to have Tessie McFerrin for a mother. He finished the cake, washed it down with a couple of sips from his bottle of mineral water, then reached for his lab coat.

“Time for work,” he announced as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of the white jacket.

“You will keep us posted, won’t you, Dr. Mac?” Phyllis asked.

“About what?”

“Whether or not your horoscope is right.”

“You mean about the lucky months?” he quipped with a smile.

Phyllis gave him a playful punch on the arm, prompting Tabitha to say, “Never mind him, Phyl. His time is coming. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Michael smiled to himself. Little did they know, he thought, and went to greet his first patient.

EVERY TIME MICHAEL DROVE to Tessie’s home on Lake Minnetonka, he could feel a sense of calmness wash over him. There was something to be said about going home, especially when that home was located on one of the state’s largest lakes in a sleepy little town nearly surrounded by water.

When Tessie and her husband had first built the house, it had been one of the many charming waterfront cottages dotting the shoreline. As the metropolitan area of Minneapolis and St. Paul had spread westward, the region had changed from a vacation resort to a residential community.

Now it was a playground for visitors, plus home to many who were fortunate enough to have one of the residences on the waterfront. Tessie was one of those residents living in a lake community yet having access to the city.

After knocking on her door and getting no answer, Michael reached into his pocket for his keys and let himself into the house.

“Tessie?” he called out, his voice resonating in the large, open hallway. He poked his head into the parlor, but she wasn’t sitting in her favorite chair—a rocker he’d given her for her birthday a few years back. As he crossed the foyer, an Abyssinian cat slinked across the tiled floor, meowing as she rubbed up against his legs.

He bent to scratch her neck. “Hey, Cleo. How’s life treating you?”

After a couple more meows, the cat slunk away. Michael guessed that Tessie was in the kitchen, for the aroma of pot roast tickled his nose. “Tessie?” he called out again, but still there was no answer.

He soon discovered she wasn’t busy at work preparing dinner. Although wonderful aromas permeated the kitchen, and numerous pots sat on the stove, Tessie was nowhere in sight.

The back door, however, was open. He stepped outside and made a quick survey of the yard. He saw the patio, where wicker furniture sat empty. Geraniums hung from the eaves of the gazebo, but the chairs inside were vacant. The sandy beach was empty, the bench at the end of the dock held no one. Finally he looked toward the flower garden that stretched the entire length of the yard. There he caught a glimpse of a wide-brimmed sun hat, but it slipped around the corner of the house.

“Tessie?” he called out, and the hat came back into full view.

A smiling Tessie waved her gloved hand and smiled. “Oh, you’re here already! I’ll be right there,” she called out to him, and disappeared momentarily before emerging with an armful of lilacs.

Watching her scoot across the yard caused a smile to appear on Michael’s face. For a woman of eighty-one, she was extremely agile and full of energy. Although her hair was as white as snow, there was nothing else about Tessie McFerrin that identified her as an octogenarian. She had a zest for life few women half her age possessed.

When she reached the back stoop, she motioned for him to bend so she could give him a hug and a kiss. “Happy Birthday, Michael. I’m so glad you’re spending it with me.”

“Me, too,” he told her, opening the back door for her. “Dinner smells wonderful.”

“It’s pot roast.”

He smiled. “I thought so.” She’d made it for him every year on his birthday ever since he could remember.

“It’s a lot of food for just two people,” she said as they stepped into the kitchen. “You should have brought a friend.”

“You’re the only one I want to be with on my birthday, Tessie. You know that.”

She carried the lilacs over to the sink where a cut crystal vase sat on the counter. As she filled the vase with water, she said, “Has it been a nice birthday so far?”

“Yes, I’ve had a very nice day,” he told her, which wasn’t exactly the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, either. Just because he didn’t want to celebrate his birthday didn’t mean he should tell her that. He couldn’t tell her that, not after all the preparations she’d made. “They had a cake for me at the office.”

“I knew they were going to. Tabitha called and said they were going to throw you a surprise party, but I told her that it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Thank you for saying that. You know I’m not fond of birthdays.”

She set the flowers on the dining room table. “I know. That’s why I didn’t make a cake. I made pie. Lemon meringue.”

Another of his favorites. “You shouldn’t spoil me.”

She smiled innocently as she walked past him. “You’re fun to spoil. I’m surprised some other woman hasn’t discovered that by now.”

He let the remark slip without commenting. In recent months she’d been mentioning his single status more often. Michael thought it was probably because the older she became, the more she worried about him not having someone to share his life with after she was gone.

As she tied an apron around her waist, he said, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She gave him a gentle shove toward the dining room. “It’s your birthday. You sit while I dish it up. It won’t take me but a few minutes.”

“But I want to help,” he insisted.

“Then open the wine and pour us each a glass,” she instructed. “There’s a bottle of white zinfandel chilling in the dining room.”

When he walked into the dining room, he saw the wine bucket with the bottle inside. He also noticed that there were not one but two pies cooling on the sideboard. When Tessie carried in a platter of pot roast with potatoes and vegetables, he asked, “Do we each get a pie for dessert?”

“As long as I was making one I thought I might as well make two. You never know when you’ll get unexpected company,” she answered innocently.

“You didn’t invite anyone over tonight, did you?”

“Of course not,” she answered quickly, then disappeared into the kitchen again.

When she returned, she carried the bun warmer and a large bowl of salad. “I think that’s about it,” she said, untying the apron from around her waist. “Shall we sit down?”

He held her chair for her, then after she was settled, took his own spot to her right. Before eating, she reached for his hand and covered it with hers. “I feel very blessed, Michael, to be able to celebrate another birthday with you, although you should be celebrating with someone young and pretty.”

“On this day, it wouldn’t seem right to spend it anywhere but here with you.” He lifted her hands to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “I owe you so much.”

“You don’t owe me, Michael. When love is given, it should be given freely, not with expectations of getting something in return. You’ve brought me such great joy….” she paused, as emotion choked her throat. She pulled her hand out of his and reached for the handkerchief in her pocket. “This is a happy occasion, not a sad one,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with the embroidered white linen cloth. “So no more of this schmaltz. Let’s have a nice dinner together and you can tell me what your day was like at the clinic.”

Michael did use his work as dinner conversation, knowing that Tessie loved animals as much as he did. If there was one person who understood his passion for his work, it was Tessie, and she’d always encouraged him to follow his dream of becoming a vet.

It was a nice way to spend one’s birthday and the way he’d spent all of his—or at least the ones he could remember. He’d arrived at the McFerrin home when he was only four. Tessie and her husband had been taking in foster children most of their married life. Shortly before Michael had arrived, they’d decided to put their efforts into doing other types of volunteer work.

But then a friend of Tessie’s had told her about Michael. Only four years old, he needed a place to stay while his mother waited for her trial to begin. As soon as Tessie had taken one look at him, she’d convinced Frank that they should take in one more foster child. When Michael’s mother had been sentenced to a long prison term, Frank agreed with Tessie that they would provide a home for him as long as it was necessary.

Little did anyone know that Michael’s birth mother would die of pneumonia while serving her sentence. When that happened, Tessie convinced Frank to adopt Michael, since there were no other living relatives. Michael had been a McFerrin for less than a year when Frank had a massive coronary and Tessie was left to raise him alone.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” she said, raising her wineglass in the air. “To another year of good health and happiness in your work.” She clinked her glass against his, then took a sip of the wine. “Now, when you’ve finished eating, I have a surprise for you.”

“You weren’t supposed to buy me a birthday present. I don’t need anything but your love,” he said, reaching across to squeeze her hand.

She smiled. “That’s very sweet of you to say, but I happen to disagree.”

He simply returned her smile and decided to graciously accept the shirt and tie she’d probably spent an afternoon finding for him. Only he soon discovered it wasn’t a gift of clothing that she’d purchased for him. When they’d finished eating, she handed him an envelope.

“Go ahead. Open it. It won’t bite,” she teased as he hesitated.

She had such an expectant look of joy on her face, he knew he couldn’t say another word but had to simply open the card and pretend to be thrilled. He guessed it contained a gift certificate to his favorite men’s clothing store.

It didn’t. Inside was an invitation to dinner. Michael glanced at Tessie, who was watching him for his reaction. “Dinner at eight on Saturday?”

She nodded excitedly.

“But with whom?”

“That’s the surprise,” Tessie told him with a gleeful glint in her eye.

“You’ve arranged for me to have dinner with someone,” he repeated the obvious.

“Seven people, actually,” she confessed.

Puzzled, he frowned, trying to figure out what she had planned. Then it hit him. It was probably dinner with seven of the Mums, the ladies his mother met with regularly on the pretext of discussing gardening, but he knew that they were more than a garden club. They were friends. Friends who wanted to help him celebrate his birthday.

A smile slowly spread across his face. “So you are giving me a party, after all,” he said in a knowing tone.

“Oh, no. It’s not a birthday party. It’s a dinner,” she corrected him.

“By any chance is it a dinner with some lovely ladies?” he asked with a sly smile.

“Yes, it is.” She regarded him cautiously. “Did one of the girls let the secret out of the bag? Louella promised me she wouldn’t say anything when she took Toby in for his shots.”

“Louella didn’t say anything,” he reassured her.

“Then how did you know?” Now she was the one looking totally confused.

He reached across the table to pat her hand. “I didn’t. I’m just a good guesser.”

She looked a bit apologetic as she said, “It’s not what you wanted, is it?”

“It’s a lovely surprise.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. I would be happy to have dinner with you and the Mums—provided you make sure they understand that it’s not a birthday party.”

Her brows drew close together. “The Mums?”

“Yes. You said seven ladies. They are the ones you’ve arranged for me to take to dinner, right?”

She gasped. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t give you the Mums for your birthday.” Then she began to laugh and, by the time her laughter was over, she had to remove her glasses and dab at her eyes with her handkerchief.

“What’s so funny about the Mums wanting to have dinner with me?” he demanded.

“That’s not what’s so funny,” she told him. As if it was too much for her, she reached for her water glass. “It’s just that…well, they know about your birthday present and when they hear that you read the invitation and thought it was them…” Again she giggled.

“Just what is my birthday present?” he asked.

“Maybe you should finish reading your invitation.” She reached over and tapped the embossed paper with her fingernail. “You didn’t open it. You just read the front.”

Michael picked it up and flipped it open. Inside was a note that read, “Happy Birthday, Michael. I hope you appreciate the gift your mother has given you and will join us for dinner at eight.” It was signed by a woman named Claudia Dixon, Director.

Puzzled, he asked, “Director of what?”

“Dinner Date. She’s a wonderful woman. So warm and sincere. Doing business with her was a real joy.”

Uneasiness rumbled inside him. “Business? What kind of business?”

“Arranging dinners for people.”

“Then this…” He glanced at the invitation again and saw the small logo at the bottom. “This Dinner Date is a service to arrange dinners?”

“Yes. Isn’t it a lovely idea?”

“If you need help with that, then it’s probably a valuable service.” He reached over to take her hand in his. “But I wish you would have saved your money. You don’t need to arrange a dinner party for me. Your dinners are special enough for me.”

“But this isn’t about having a dinner party, Michael. It’s about meeting people.”

Suspicion began to unfurl inside him. “Who will be at this dinner exactly? If you didn’t invite the Mums, who are we going to be meeting?”

“Not we, Michael, you. You shouldn’t be spending an evening with an old lady like me. You need to be with young people,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

He closed his eyes briefly. Oh no. She’d gone and done what she’d threatened to do for the past ten years. Set him up with the eligible women in town—or at least the ones she knew about. He knew Louella had a granddaughter who was single and so did Edith Larson. And then there was the woman who’d been giving her piano lessons.

He needed to get out of this dinner, but how could he do it without hurting her feelings? “Mom, I’m going to feel a bit self-conscious if I’m the only man with seven women…” he began.

She chuckled. “Oh, you won’t be the only man. There’ll be four women and four men. Claudia knows her business.”

“What men and what women?”

“Oh, I don’t know that,” she said cheerfully.

“Wait a minute.” He straightened in his chair, uneasiness creeping along his nerves like a fog rolling in from the ocean. “How can you not know who you invited to dinner?”

“Because I didn’t invite them. Claudia did. That’s her job.”

Michael picked up the dinner invitation and looked again at the logo. It said, “Dinner Date—bringing people together.” Tessie had said there’d be four men and four women. This Claudia was bringing men and women together.

“Mother, please tell me this isn’t a dating service,” he said, a sick feeling in his stomach.

“It’s not,” she denied emphatically. “Dinner Date is an alternative to dating services. Instead of having to pay a lot of money, fill out all sorts of questionnaires, and then have someone ‘choose’ you as a prospective date, you simply go to dinner with a group of people who have similar interests as you. There’s no matchmaking at all,” she assured him quickly.

“Isn’t the whole thing a matchmaking setup?”

“No, it isn’t,” she told him. “Claudia told me she started her business so that young professionals could enjoy an evening of dinner and good conversation without any of the pressures of dating. It’s simply a way to meet other professionals your age.”

“I have plenty of friends who make great dinner companions.” It was true. He’d never lacked for female companionship. Tessie, however, didn’t know that. Just because he never brought any of his lady friends to meet her, however, didn’t mean they didn’t exist.

“I’m sure you do.” She patronized him by patting his hand. “I didn’t purchase this opportunity for you because I thought you were short of friends. I just wanted to give you a chance to meet some nice young ladies….”

“I have women friends. I know it doesn’t look like it, but I do date,” he tried to convince her, but he could see by the lift of her eyebrows and the tilt of her chin that she didn’t believe him.

“You haven’t brought a single one here to meet me,” she reminded him.

“If I bring one over does that mean you’ll get a refund from this Claudia person?”

“That’s not funny, Michael.”

He hadn’t meant it to be but didn’t have the heart to tell her that. He struggled to find the right words. “I’m not much for dinners with strangers, Mom.”

“It’s simply an opportunity to meet people with similar interests as you.”

“I don’t think I’ll meet them through some dating service.”

“You don’t know that, Michael. Louella says that her cousin Margaret’s son Dennis—you know, the one who’s the optometrist? Well, he was skeptical, just like you. But he went to Dinner Date and guess what?” She paused, waiting for him to ask what.

He didn’t.

“He met a nice young accountant and they’re planning to get married next year.”

He could feel his collar tightening. “That’s fine for Louella’s cousin’s whatever…” He trailed off impatiently. “But I like to choose my own dates.”

“This isn’t a date,” she corrected him. “It’s simply an opportunity to have dinner and meet new people.” She got to her feet to go over to the bureau. She pulled a pamphlet from the drawer and gave it to him. “Here. You can read about it for yourself.”

Michael took one look at the Dinner Date brochure and set it aside with a grimace. “I really don’t want to read about it.”

“You don’t want my gift to you?” From the look of horror on her face, Michael would have thought he’d asked her to put dear old Cleo to sleep.

He wanted to say no, that he wasn’t going to go to any arranged dinner of single people, but there was something about the look in her eyes that stopped him. He raked a hand across the back of his neck. “I hate the thought of you spending money on something like this.”

“But this is the way I want to spend my money,” she assured him. “You work far too many nights and weekends, helping this one or helping that one,” she said with a flourish of her hand in midair. “Please let me give you a nice evening out with young people your own age. Just one dinner where you can talk to others who share your interests.”

He wanted to refuse. Going to dinner with seven strangers who were looking for love through a dating service was not how he wanted to spend a Saturday evening. Yet Tessie never asked for much. She’d raised him ever since he was a small boy, giving him the love and care his own mother hadn’t been able to give to him. How could he say no?

“I really wish you hadn’t spent your money on this,” he said, tapping the side of the invitation against the table.

“It’s worth it if it makes you happy,” she said, coming over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Only it didn’t make him happy, yet he couldn’t tell her that. She’d been so excited to give him the gift. She had no idea how much he disliked the idea.

“You are going to go to the dinner, aren’t you?”

Every instinct inside him wanted him to say no, but before he could say another word, there was a knock at the door.

“I wonder who that could be?” Tessie said aloud, looking as if she knew exactly who was at the door.

Michael’s glance flew to the sideboard. “Probably someone who heard you’d baked two pies.”

She flitted out of the room. When she returned she was accompanied by half a dozen gray-haired women. The Mums had arrived.

To Michael’s dismay, they came with a gift. After greeting each of them and receiving more birthday hugs, he opened the package. Inside was a shirt and tie.

“For your dinner on Saturday,” Louella told him with a twinkle in her eye.

Michael almost said, “I’m not going to dinner on Saturday,” but the group of women gathered around him were the dearest ladies he knew. They’d been mothering him almost as long as Tessie had been.

So instead of telling them he could get a date without their help, he simply said, “Thank you. This will make me look like a man about town.”

They all smiled and ate their lemon meringue pie. Michael knew his chances of getting out of the dinner were between slim and next to none. But Lynn was going on vacation, which meant he’d be the vet on call next weekend.

Maybe there was hope.