Page 113 of The Blessings of Christmas
Without it? She had no idea. But she was about to find out.
Just put one foot in front of the other, Victoria. She took a step. Then another. The sun beat down through the bare branches of the towering liveoaks. They’d probably been planted long ago when the mine was humming. The group in front of the clinic had turned to look as she approached. The ball stopped bouncing.
“Good morning.” She dug deep for that perky tone. Conversation stopped and people parted. Did her nervousness show? Smiling, she passed.
“Good morning,” they answered in a ragged chorus. One man rushed to open the door.
“Thank you.” She ducked her head, feeling a hot flush color her cheeks.
He swept a cap from his head. “You're welcome, ma’am.”
Inside, the broad space was bright and crowded. The first thing she noticed was the lack of that antiseptic hospital smell. Instead, the place smelled like coffee and hot food. Against one wall sat a long table. Behind it women were serving eggs, potatoes, bacon green beans and a big pot of grits. Donuts were stacked on a plate. Some of the women in line had small children who looked up at her shyly.
People sat on folding chairs around long tables. Children played in the corners. A card table held a puzzle and a dart board hung on the wall. A Christmas tree in the corner caught her attention. All of the ornaments, including the garland, seemed cut from construction paper. Many of the shapes were trees with words scribbled on them. The tree had beendecorated with love. Uncertainty shimmering through her, she cast her eyes about. At least, no one asked her to leave.
On the wall across from the food were three doors, and one was closed. What was behind door number three? Probably Dr. Darling. Her false courage failed. No way was she going to knock on that door. Victoria had no business here, and the thought nearly took her under. Her jacket felt warm. The whole outfit was too dressy, or so she realized now.
Feeling like an imposter, she turned to leave when the door in the corner swept open. She took a deep breath to calm her jangling nerves. Dr. Darling escorted an elderly woman from the room, talking to her in a soft undertone. Victoria inched closer. No white lab coat today. Instead Derek Darling wore jeans and a gray Henley shirt that deepened his smoking hot eyes.
What would she say? Her mouth turned dry. He hadn’t seen her yet. Maybe she should creep away. This reminded her of the first time she’d entered Escada in Palm Beach. The polished store and disapproving stares from the staff had quickly melted her thirteen year-old confidence. But Daddy had been behind her. When he extended a hand to the nicely dressed man, the man’s expression immediately warmed. “Marcus, good to see you. Want you to meet my little girl.”
“Why of course.” Suddenly the attitude was all different. Suddenly everyone knew she was a girl who could whip out her Daddy’s card and buy anything in this store.
Today she was on her own. Slumping, she turned.I have to get out of here before he sees me.
“Ms. Pomeroy.” Unlike the man at Escada ten years ago, Dr. Darling’s tone wasn't welcoming. Instead, he sounded surprised and maybe a little irritated.
Looking up, she managed a little wave.Breathe, just breathe.
After making sure that the elderly woman was seated safely at a table and that one of the women had brought her food, Dr. Darling strolled toward her, hands in the pockets of worn jeans. He looked so darn cute in those running shoes. “Your concussion okay?”
The back of your head, Victoria. Her hand went up. “Yes. Thank you for asking. I’m fine.”
The look in his eyes told her that he already knew that. Derek Darling realized she’d faked an injury to see him. Under the overhead lighting fit for a supermarket, his eyes deepened to charcoal. The guy was fit beyond belief, shoulders stretching the knit shirt that looked soft to the touch. Victoria didn’t want to think about what lay beneath that shirt. “What are you doing here?” he asked, in a tone the police probably used with shop-lifters.
Reaching into her tote with a shaky hand, she pulled out the notepad. “Guess I should have made an appointment. I wanted...I wanted...to interview you about the clinic. Open Heart?”
He frowned. “Hearth. The name is Open Hearth.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t see a fireplace anywhere.”
That brought the flicker of a smile but it faded fast. By that time she had a pen in hand. Man, she hoped it worked. “If you don’t have time today, I can always come back.”
When his soulful gray eyes looked into hers, she felt a little faint. Maybe she did have that brain concussion after all.
“Who is this article for?” His words were stiff as her hair brush.
“TheSweetwater Gazette. I do some, um, freelancing for them.”Oh mother mercy.
“They’ve already published one article.” Suspicion clouded those gray eyes.
Think fast. “This is a follow-up piece.” Somehow she pulled these words from a long-ago journalism class.
Dr. Darling crossed his arms. No way did he believe her. After all, she’d told him a tall tale once before. Victoria was about to shove her pad into her tote and walk out when he sucked in a breath that expanded his chest. Her eyes were riveted to that broad expanse. In one fleeting moment, she pictured her head resting right there.
Pivoting, he started toward his office with a lilting walk that made his shoes squeak on the linoleum. “Okay. Ten minutes.”
Relief left her limp. Somehow she made it into his office, which was as sparse as the area outside. Franz would go crazy with this place. His chair creaked when Dr. Darling leaned back, twiddling his thumbs on those flat abs. She couldn’t help but notice the word Trash scrawled on the side of his desk in black marker.
