I have to admit you come highly recommended by your school,” he said, “but you’re so young. And so fragile.”
Brittany couldn’t help it, she laughed. “There’s not much I can do about the ‘young’ part, but ‘fragile’? Professor Thorpe, I’m five feet six inches tall and weigh one-hundred-thirty pounds. I’ve also had strength training and my body is very well toned.”
Ethan grinned. “Don’t underestimate my dad. He’s over six feet tall, slimmer now than he used to be, but still tips the scales at close to two hundred pounds, and makes up in just plain wiliness for what he may have lost in muscle power.”
The cool reserve between the two of them had been broken, and they sat back and relaxed. “Tell me a little about your father,” Brittany said. “I understand he’s retired now, but what did he do for a living? How many children does he have? What about your mother? That type of thing.”
She knew she was assuming a lot here, asking questions like that before she’d even been hired, but she really wanted this job and she wasn’t going to make it easy for the professor to send her away if his only objection to her was her age.
“You want to know what my dad used to do for a living?” Ethan inquired. “He spent forty years as a heavy-equipment repairer. He’s got muscles you never heard of, and most of them are still fully operational even though he doesn’t exercise much anymore. You’d have a time controlling him if he didn’t want to be controlled. Fortunately, he’s even-tempered and he’d die before he’d ever touch a woman in anger.”
“Then we don’t have to worry about my strength or lack of it, do we,” she said sweetly with a touch of sarcasm.
“But it’s not your well being I’m worried about,” Ethan replied. “He sometimes loses his balance and falls. Are you strong enough to help him get up and patient enough to give him constant attention? He tends to get confused and wanders away if not supervised.”
“It’s almost impossible for any one person to lift a patient who can’t help himself,” she told him, “but I can certainly dial 911 if I need help. I’m prepared to do whatever is necessary to keep him safe and well as long as he’s under my supervision. How old is he?”
“He’s seventy-two and in good health as long as he keeps his diabetes under control, but because of his short-term memory problems he can’t always remember to give himself his insulin shots. When that happens he goes downhill fast, but I’m sure you know about that.”
Brittany knew he was testing her and responded appropriately. “Yes, I do. His blood-sugar count goes up dangerously high and he feels woozy. That’s when he’s apt to get confused and fall.”
Ethan nodded his agreement. “Right. That’s the most important reason we need a medical assistant as a caregiver.”
“I’m very good at making sure my patients get their meds,” she assured him. “What about your mother? Does she live here, too?”
He shook his head. “My mother died of a sudden heart attack when my twin brother and I were in high school. Peter and I were their only children, and Dad never married again so there’s no second family.”
“And your wife?” she asked hesitantly. “You do have a wife, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore,” he said crisply. “My wife and I were divorced two years ago. We have an eighteen-month-old son, but he won’t be a problem for you. He lives in Pleasant Hill with his mother. I have him every other weekend.”
Brittany was startled by his disclosure. So far she hadn’t seen any sign of a woman in residence, but she’d assumed there was one. Why would any woman give up on a man with all Ethan had going for him? What had happened?
Well, that was obviously none of her business and it was time to change the subject.
“So you have a twin brother,” she said. “That must have been fun when you were growing up.”
He smiled. “No, we’re fraternal twins, not identical. Pete is six two, losing his hair and has blue eyes. We don’t even look like brothers.”
Brittany’s gaze shifted up to Ethan’s luxuriant crop of brown-colored hair, and her fingers tingled to run through it. No chance of him going bald anytime soon. “How odd,” she commented. “Does he live in the area?”
“No, he and his wife are lawyers and are partners in separate law firms in New Orleans, so you’d be on your own with Dad from eight in the morning until midafternoon at the earliest. Do you think you could handle that?”
“I’m sure of it,” she said with a tad more confidence than she felt. “Also, the agency I work through has backup help always available. I can call them at any time should a problem arise.”
“Well, I don’t know,” he waffled. “I need someone who understands the situation and can deal with it. My first choice was for a male medical assistant, but the agency didn’t have any available.”
He thought for a minute, then spoke. “Look, why don’t I introduce you to Dad and see how it goes? He’s in the family room watching a baseball game on television.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Brittany said, relieved that he was at least going to give her a chance, let her meet the patient and see how they got along.
“Fine, then come on. It’s down the hall.”
Again he took her arm. She wasn’t sure it was necessary as a form of politeness, but she was glad he did. She liked the closeness it induced in her.
They walked down the hall to the right of the staircase and past a closed door until they came to a big open room across the back of the house.
It was totally unlike the parlor, or the dining room she’d glimpsed across the foyer. They were furnished in eighteenth-century decor, stately but cool and formal. This one, however, was strictly twentieth century with comfortable modern furniture, massive sliding glass doors and windows with a view that seemed to bring the colorful, well-tended gardens inside. A big-screen television set was tuned to a baseball game in progress.
The furniture divided the rectangular room into two separate areas. The television was the focal point to the left of the wide entryway, and the right side featured a marble fireplace with a long cream-colored sofa facing it from the middle of the room. There were numerous thickly upholstered lounge chairs in shades of brown, rust and beige positioned around both sides, and lamps strategically placed for reading.
An older man sat in one of the chairs with his back to them, avidly watching the screen, and didn’t hear them approach until Ethan spoke. “Dad, would you turn the sound down? We have a visitor.”
The man looked around, startled, and immediately turned off the set with the remote, then struggled to his feet. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you coming,” he said pleasantly.
“Please don’t apologize,” Brittany said, and held out her hand. “I’m Brittany Baldwin.”
She didn’t know just what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it. Nate Thorpe was tall and slender, somewhat loosely put together, like a dancer, except she could tell from the way he swayed ever so slightly when he first stood that he had a problem with his balance.
He
