A Doctor's Vow. Christine Rimmer

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СКАЧАТЬ Underhill. But please. Call me Lily.”

      “And I’m just Ronni.”

      “Good enough. Ronni.” The woman hefted the plates again. “I was putting my own lunch together and it occurred to me that maybe you might enjoy a little break yourself.”

      “That’s thoughtful of you.”

      “Oh, it’s nothing.”

      They smiled at each other some more. Ronni felt a little like an interviewee at that moment. An interviewee for a job that really didn’t exist—which would make Lily the employer. An employer determined to conduct a pleasant interview, no matter that she had no intention of hiring anyone.

      Well. Nothing to do but get the interview over with. “Let’s go on into the kitchen.”

      “Good idea.”

      In the kitchen, at the cute round pine table with its pedestal base, Lily took the foil off the plates, revealing a pair of sandwiches cut in half diagonally. Matching mounds of pasta salad sat neatly between the halves.

      “This looks good,” Ronni said.

      “It’s roast beef. With just a touch of horseradish sauce. I hope you’re not a vegetarian.”

      “No. Roast beef is great.”

      “And horseradish?”

      “I love horseradish.”

      “Well, then, this should work out fine.”

      They used paper towels for napkins. Ronni apologized. “I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance to get to the store yet.”

      “Oh, I know you must be busy. A doctor’s schedule is just killing, isn’t it?”

      “It could be worse. I do have my Sundays, now I’m in private practice. And today, I’m not even on call. How about coffee? I have that.”

      “Just a glass of ice water.”

      “Water, I’ve got.”

      “And forks, for the pasta salad?”

      “No problem. All the kitchen things were here when I got here.”

      Lily sighed. “This little house. Always ready for visitors.” She went to a drawer and took out the flatware they needed.

      They sat down and started to eat. The sandwich was good, the beef thin-sliced and tender. Ronni told Lily so.

      Lily waved a hand. “Oh, it’s just a sandwich. But I must confess, I do love to cook. Patricia…that was my daughter, Ryan’s wife?” Ronni did not miss the slight emphasis on the word wife. “Patricia loved to cook, too.” Lily chuckled. “And she was much more self-disciplined than I am when it came to sampling what she cooked. I’m a size twelve now, myself. Have been for years and years. But my daughter…aside from her pregnancies, never in her life did she go above a size eight.” Lily’s eyes changed, lost their brightness. “And then, at the end, she was so thin.” Lily blinked and spoke flatly. “She died two years ago. Cancer, in case you hadn’t heard. It’s been…such a challenge, without her. For the children. For Ryan. For all of us.”

      The usual condolences rose to Ronni’s lips. She held them back. It seemed the wrong moment for a kind cliché.

      “You never met my daughter, did you?” It was almost an accusation.

      “No. I did my residency up in Washington. And only moved here two and a half years ago. This is my first practice, with Marty, and with Randall Sheppard.”

      Lily swept a hand out, indicating the whole of the cheerful, pretty room. “Patricia did all of this. Country French, she called it. She wanted the guest house to be cozy and casual. Blue-checked curtains for the kitchen. Blue willow plates on the plate rails.” Lily looked up at the rows of blue-and-white china plates that lined the narrow shelves above the cabinets. “And she did the main house, too. All of it. She chose everything, all by herself. She had a real sense for what makes a home an inviting place.”

      “Yes,” Ronni said, for lack of something better. “The main house is quite beautiful.”

      “But comfortable, too,” Lily said sharply. “A place where a family actually lives.” Lily’s eyes looked suspiciously moist.

      Though the older woman’s mission here was painfully clear, Ronni couldn’t help but feel compassion for her. “You must miss her terribly.”

      Lily drew in a long breath and smoothed the paper towel in her lap. “I…raised her alone, for the most part. Her father died when she was only two.”

      “It sounds as if you did an excellent job. Of raising her, I mean.”

      “I did my best. We were so close. I wanted so much for her. And she…lived all my dreams for her. For a while, at least, for as long as…she was with us. She was twenty-three when she married Ryan. Oh, you should have seen them on their wedding day. Patricia so fair, slender and tall. And Ryan beside her, dark and handsome, and proud. I knew from the first the kind of husband he would be. True and responsible. A good provider. Everything a woman could want.” She smiled then and leaned toward Ronni. “Good enough even for my precious daughter, if you know what I mean.”

      Ronni’s smile didn’t feel forced at all this time. “I do.”

      Lily pulled back. She seemed to draw into herself. “Listen to me. Rambling on. You’re—” a flash of bewilderment clouded her eyes “—a very easy person to talk to….”

      For a few minutes, they were silent, each concentrating carefully on her meal.

      Then Lily spoke again. “Ryan told me that you feel we shouldn’t be too concerned…about Andrew.”

      “That’s true. I think your grandson is a great guy. And I really don’t believe he’ll be dropping in on me in the middle of the night again. But just in case, I did put that key away—the one he used to let himself in?”

      “Good.” Lily sipped her ice water. “Andrew is a fine boy. A lot like his father, did you notice? So responsible—” she let out a small, self-conscious laugh “—most of the time, anyway.” She picked up her fork, then set it down without using it. “The truth is, Ryan’s the one I worry about. He works such long hours. But then you know how that is, don’t you? I imagine your schedule is pretty grueling, too….”

      Oh, Lily, Ronni thought. I get the message. And I know that you’re right. Ryan and I are both way too busy to let anything get started between us.

      Lily continued, “He hardly has time for the children at all.” Her smile was indulgent. “But he does try. He’s spending the afternoon with them today, as a matter of fact. It’s a family event. Ryan and the children—and Ryan’s brother, Tanner. They always go to Pizza Pete’s one Sunday a month.”

      Ronni had heard of Pizza Pete’s. More than one of her small patients had raved about it. Besides the pizza its name promised, Pizza Pete’s provided carnival games, a video arcade and a number of other tempting amusements.

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