going to know you chickened out, you big chickeny chicken.” Jen’s satisfaction was hard to face, but Stephanie did her best not to show her dismay.
Rebecca wagged a finger. “Great idea, Jen. Evidence.”
Stephanie snorted. “So what happens if I decide to take my millions and head for France and ignore the clucking sounds you make every time you see me from now until the end of time?”
“No cookies for you.” Rebecca moved the plate out of reach and Jen whistled.
“Harsh but effective.” Jen raised an eyebrow. “Not that you need consequences. You want to make a change. Here’s the push you need. After we win the lottery.”
“Okay, so you managed to fix the dart-throwing exhibition. If you can figure out a way to rig the lottery, I am going to be so impressed.”
Jen exchanged a glance with Rebecca, and as soon as Stephanie put the wineglass on the table, Jen shouted, “We won!” She and Rebecca jumped up and down like the excitement could no longer be contained. “Five million dollars split three ways. We won!”
“Pack your bags,” Rebecca sang as she hugged Stephanie. “It’s time to make a wish come true.”
Stephanie tipped her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “You’re talking about seeing Peru, right?”
“Sure.” Rebecca blinked slowly. “What else could I be talking about?”
“Fine, but you’re going with me,” Stephanie muttered. And added through gritted teeth, “My treat.” If she was going, she was certainly going to take a buffer with her.
“Can’t.” Rebecca held up her hand and ticked off the points. “No passport. No tranquilizers. No airplanes. No way.” Her fear of flying was well documented. They’d tried it the first summer after her parents moved to Florida.
It had gone badly. Very badly. Now they took road trips.
“And Jen’s out. She signed up to teach summer school.”
Before Stephanie could argue that Jen had no need to pick up the extra money, Rebecca added, “This is your thing. You don’t need us.”
Oh, yes, she did. It was fine to dream big on Rebecca’s sofa. Actually going to a foreign country all alone might be too big.
And the fact that she was sitting on the edge of panic over the trip instead of dancing in celebration over winning the lottery was something to think about. Later.
“Are you matchmaking?” Stephanie asked. “Because...”
“I love you. I love him. The two of you together, I don’t know about, but you’re in a rut. This ought to fix that.” Rebecca wrapped her arm around Stephanie’s shoulders. “And if I know my brother, his rut’s deeper than yours, even on a mountaintop. Of the three of us, you were always the best at getting him to do what we wanted.”
“But what do we want him to do?” There had to be an ironclad excuse to get out of this.
“Simple. I want him to be happy.” Rebecca shrugged. “And you, too. What if the best way to stop turning dates into friends is to make a friend...something more? I dare you to give this a shot. One trip. Easy.”
Stephanie was speechless as she considered Rebecca, who had walked away to pull a casserole out of the oven that was now living on borrowed time. Rebecca was her best friend. They would be friends until the end of time. But she might have been breathing in the oven fumes for too long.
Still, she could go, see Daniel and return with the message that he was happily saving the world one vaccination at a time. The trip also would prove that her feelings had been settled, once and for all. He was a friend. He’d stay a friend.
And having a purpose made the trip a little less intimidating.
But only a little.
Ready or not, she was headed for Peru.
“WHY ARE YOU updating now, you stupid piece of junk?” Daniel rubbed his forehead, watched his laptop count up slowly and tried to think happy thoughts. Before he’d settled in to start and finish the overdue fund-raising report, he’d checked his parents’ Facebook page. The cruise to Alaska was going well. But there were no other updates. Nothing from his sister. He would’ve called her to check in, but his recent uptick in homesickness wouldn’t be helped by hearing her voice.
Since he’d been about half a second away from hitting the medical recruiting sites he’d started checking now and then, just to see who was hiring close to home, he should thank his computer for saving him the angst.
While giving him a whole different bucket of angst, of course.
His life was in Peru. He missed home and his sister more than he’d ever admit, but he was a grown man. He’d deal. There was plenty to do here to keep his mind off what he was missing in Holly Heights.
Daniel scanned the small lobby restaurant and watched three guys in business suits working happily on laptops with better timing than his. At least he wasn’t trying to do this in a necktie and white coat. The doctor’s dress code had been replaced with comfortable jeans, his favorite Baylor T-shirt and a dusty ball cap that kept the sun out of his eyes.
Most of the time, he was the lone doctor in town. He had the freedom to dress the way he wanted and run the best clinics he could.
That had to be the unlikely silver lining to his flameout at Holly Heights Hospital. Refusing to discharge a patient whose insurance wasn’t up to par—against his sound judgment as a doctor—was one thing. Insulting the hospital administrator in front of the board was where he’d stepped over the line. And as a result the hospital’s summer job shadowing program for high school kids—the one his sister had drafted and he’d called in every single favor he could to get approved—had also been axed.
Letting Rebecca down had been a hard way to learn the lesson, but he’d never again make the mistake of believing his skills made him bulletproof. Even worse was imagining the disappointed kids who might have missed out on finding their calling.
In Peru he didn’t have to worry about offending any number crunchers in expensive suits. Well, except for the guy watching him over the top of his newspaper.
Daniel shoved the computer out of the way, yanked his breakfast plate closer and scooped up a heaping tower of fluffy scrambled eggs. At least this meal was on his schedule. That was one of the perks of this business-class hotel in Lima. Everything ran on time. Reliable electricity. Running water twenty-four hours a day. And hot water whenever he turned on the tap. City life definitely had its bonuses.
When the laptop finally whirred back on, he sighed and reopened the document he’d been staring at for long minutes before his computer had taken its life in its hands by shutting down and restarting without his permission.
He smiled at the woman who kept his coffee cup full. After she’d gone, he ate his toast and tried to come up with the next paragraph of his fund-raising report for HealthyAmericas.
The patterns on the ceiling hadn’t changed since the
