He wanted more, and that scared him.
Jake opened the red-lacquered door and stepped into the waiting room. Not much had changed. The same sloppy pile of old magazines on a scarred, round coffee table. Mismatched, uncomfortable chairs. The smell of alcohol that instantly had him puckering up. Too many trips here over the years had led to a quick needle jab to the butt. Doc Jenkins had been a firm believer in the power of penicillin.
Had Mark followed suit. He sure hoped not.
In a crisp print housedress, Mary Louellen Worley, ninety if a day, sat straight as a board in one of the plastic chairs. The town’s librarian forever, she’d finally retired a couple years ago, but only under duress.
A woman he didn’t recognize cradled a baby, swaying back and forth with the yellow bundle. He wouldn’t be making any small talk with her; he’d be expected to tell her how handsome her little guy was or how pretty her little princess was, to actually know if the kid was male or female. Without pink or blue wrapping, darned if he could ever get it right.
Betty Sorenson sat at the reception desk, dressed in a frilly white blouse, earrings dangling to her shoulders, and her blond hair piled on top of her head. He’d known her from the age of five. They had eaten paste together in Miss Jane’s kindergarten class.
He walked over, throwing her his best smile.
“Hey, Jake, heard you were home.”
“Yeah, it’s time. You’re sure lookin’ good.”
She blushed, and he went in for the kill. In under a minute, he’d sweet-talked Betty into squeezing him in between two of Mark’s patients.
“Don’t you take long now, you hear? Doctor Douglas is scheduled to the gills.”
“I’ll be quick, Betty.” He made a swishing motion across his chest. “Cross my heart.”
“Oh, go on.” She swatted him with the patient chart she held, then pointed at the door he remembered stepping through so many times in the past with a sense of dread.
Once inside, he relaxed. The office was Mark’s now, not Doc Jenkins’. No one was going to poke or prod at him here. At least not in the physical sense.
He sat down in a creaky leather chair across from Mark’s desk and considered the room. The place was a disaster. Books, files, plastic skeleton pieces on every flat surface. The boy needed to hire himself a cleaning lady.
The door swung open and his friend stepped in, white lab coat trailing behind him. “How the heck are you?” He threw an arm around Jake, and they exchanged man hugs.
Mark moved around to drop into his chair and leaned back, swinging his feet up to rest on the desk top. “When did you get back in town, Jake?”
“Couple days ago.” Apparently, Mark was out of the gossip loop and hadn’t heard about him and Lucy. Good. He’d keep it that way for now.
“We need to grab a couple beers and hit the lake. Drown a few worms while we catch up.”
“Yeah, we do.” Jake picked a foam-rubber heart out of the clutter on the desk and bounced it in his palm. “Speaking of catchin’ up. That’s kind of why I’m here. What exactly is wrong with my grandma Hattie? I can’t get a decent answer out of anybody.”
“You being a lawyer, you know better than most I can’t discuss her health with you. Privacy laws, blah, blah, blah.” He rubbed at his forehead.
“I understand that, but— Look, I need to know how much time she has left.” It hurt to say the words. He couldn’t imagine life without Grandma Hattie.
“Time left?” His brow furrowed. “Hattie? Are you kidding? Your grandmother will probably outlive us all.”
“Say that again.”
“I said—”
Shaking his head, Jake raised a hand. “So she’s not like countin’ her time in how many more Tuesday night bingo games she’ll make?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
Birdie was right. He’d been suckered. By his dad. But why? The two of them butted heads at every turn.
“Thanks, pal.” He dropped the heart back on Mark’s desk, then reached across and shook his friend’s hand. “I appreciate it.”
“Anytime. And give me a call when you’re ready to reel in those bass.”
“Will do.” He practically sleep-walked through the reception area. “Thanks, Betty. Later.”
“Okay, Jake.”
He hopped on his bike but didn’t immediately stomp the kick-start. Instead, he sat there, straddling it, wondering what he should do now. Because now that he didn’t have to be engaged, he realized he wanted to be. To Lucy.
Problem was, Lucy didn’t want that. No way, no how.
So what did he do? Confess all to Luce and have her head south to her home, her life, and out of his? Or did he continue to play this game till he could convince his pretty little redhead to make their engagement real?