Gus smacked his hat against the side of his leg. “Maggie’s an old friend. I was just teasing her.”
Thank you. She should have known Gus wouldn’t give her away to an outsider.
Aunt Elly bustled between them. “Gus, I’ll give you a cinnamon bun for a ride in that sheriff’s car.” She swung the basket in front of him.
Gus patted his stomach. “Always room for one of your cinnamon buns, but I don’t want to deprive the doc.”
“Plenty for everyone.” Aunt Elly handed Gus a napkin-wrapped bun from the basket. She took his arm. “Now let’s see about that ride.”
“You’ve got it.” Smiling, he escorted her to the door. “Nice to meet you, Doc. Be good, Maggie.”
The door closed behind them. Maggie drew in a relieved breath.
Grant grasped her arm to turn her toward him. One look at his frown told her that her relief had been premature.
“What was that all about?”
She tried for a casualness she didn’t feel. “Nothing. You heard Gus. He just likes to tease me.”
“About closing down the clinic?”
She shrugged. “He has an odd sense of humor.”
“It didn’t sound like teasing to me.” His mouth was set in an uncompromising line. His determined gaze pinned her to the spot, demanding answers she wouldn’t give.
“Look.” She pulled her arm free, letting annoyance show in her face. “I can’t help what you thought it sounded like. Gus and I both know that some of the penny-pinchers in county government would be happy to close down the clinic, so they could do something else with our tax dollars. But that’s not going to happen.” Please, God.
“I’m glad you feel so confident about it.” His eyes were the blue-gray of a stormy sky.
“I do.”
He wasn’t satisfied—she could see that. But there wasn’t anything he could do. As long as he didn’t learn the truth about the Bascom children, they were safe.
“I hope you’re right, Maggie. Because I have no intention of letting the clinic be shut down while I’m in charge here.”
He tossed Aunt Elly’s chart onto the desk and stalked back toward the office. The door banged behind him.
Lord, what else could I do? I have to protect those kids.
She had to. But there was one thing she didn’t have to do any longer.
She didn’t have to worry about any more moments when attraction sparked between her and Grant. He’d obviously decided she wasn’t to be trusted.
Chapter Three
Grant prodded the limp green beans in the frozen dinner he’d just taken from the elderly oven. Saturday night, and he was dining on what looked like leftovers from the hospital cafeteria. If he were back in Baltimore, he’d probably be eating seafood at Thompson’s with friends or a date.
He glanced at the clock. Well, no. He wouldn’t have dinner anywhere near this early on a Saturday night in his normal life. Here in Button Gap, without city lights to dispel it, the November darkness seemed darker, the hour later.
Picking up his plate, he wandered into the living room and settled into the faux leather recliner in front of the television. This wasn’t exactly the right ambience for dining, but it beat sitting at the Formica table in the kitchen.
He’d been in the village for nearly a week, and he had to confess the time had gone quickly. After a couple of quiet days, things had picked up at the clinic. Routine cases, for the most part, but they had kept him busy enough to forget he was stuck in the middle of nowhere for the rest of the month.
Okay, Hardesty, stop acting like a baby. Anyone would think this was a lifetime commitment.
Three more weeks, and he’d be free to leave. So life in Button Gap wasn’t exciting. So what? The benefits to his future career certainly outweighed a little discomfort and a hefty dose of boredom.
The clinic seemed to run effectively, in spite of the jolt he’d had at hearing some county bureaucrats wanted to shut it down. Maggie had been scrupulous in following clinic procedures. She’d even exchanged her jeans and flannel shirt for a lab coat worn over a sweater to ward off the drafts that slipped through the chinks in the frame building.
At least, he’d prefer to believe the chill in the air came from the drafts. Possibly, however, the frost might be emanating from Maggie.
Had he overreacted to that overheard conversation with the deputy sheriff? Judging from the coolness she’d shown him the past few days, Maggie certainly thought so.
He didn’t have anything for which to apologize. He was the doctor, and any problems with the clinic would reflect badly on him. He could just imagine the reaction of Dr. Rawlins, the man he hoped would soon be his senior partner, to hearing that his pet project had closed down while Grant was in charge.
Still, Grant wouldn’t mind seeing Maggie’s smile again.
A knock was a welcome interruption. He swung the door open to reveal Aunt Elly, swathed in a plaid wool jacket several sizes too large, topped by a discordant plaid muffler.
“What brings you out on this cold night?” He ushered her inside and snapped off the television news.
“Cold? Wait ’til you’ve been through a winter here and then talk to me about cold.” She loosened the muffler. “I came to bring you along to pageant tryouts.”
The only thing that came to mind was Miss America. “Pageant tryouts?”
“The Christmas pageant,” she said, as if it ought to be self-explanatory. “Everybody in Button Gap comes to church the night they pick the cast, just to cheer them on.”
Apparently he couldn’t escape the holiday, no matter where he went. “I’m afraid I don’t have any dramatic talent.”
“Shoot, you don’t have to try out, boy. It’s mostly kids anyway. But you ought to jump into Button Gap life whilst you’re here. ’Sides, Maggie’s directing it.” She glanced at his discarded plate. “We have dessert after they pick all the parts, y’know. More kinds of homemade pies than you can count.”
He didn’t need any reminders of the Christmas season. On the other hand, he didn’t want to hurt the old lady’s feelings, and just about anything was better than sitting here staring at the television.
“Your company and homemade pies sounds like a winning combination.” He reached for the jacket he’d hung on the bentwood coat rack next to the door. “You’re on.”
He pulled the door shut behind them and started to take Aunt Elly’s arm to help her down the two steps to the street. She’d already trotted down herself.
“It looks like your knee is feeling better.”
She
