“He who?” she asked as she looked up at the other woman.
“The guy who brought it. Don’t know him. Never saw him before.” She had her jacket over her arm and was obviously in a hurry to get going. “Forty or so, preppy, gray hair and great smile. Drove a huge black SUV with tinted windows.”
It didn’t sound like anyone Morgan knew, either. “Okay, thanks.”
Sharon said what she always did when she left for the day, “Safe trip home,” then laughed at her own joke. Morgan lived right behind the building, all of fifty feet from the office.
“Same to you,” Morgan responded, not able to muster a laugh this time. Not when she knew that her father could lose that very home—and the offices—within three months.
She turned, looked down at the envelope Sharon had handed to her and tucked her forefinger under the flap to open it. Inside was a folded sheet of paper along with a smaller piece of paper that fell to the floor. Picking it up, she saw it was a check for two hundred dollars. She was stunned to read the person’s information in the top left corner.
E.P.G. Corporation. Then she read the accompanying letter. Thanks for your help. If this isn’t sufficient, please bill the address at the top. The signature was a tangle of letters that she could barely make out, but she had no doubt it belonged to Ethan Grace. He was paying for her services. She suddenly smiled. And he’d just given her the opening she’d been looking for to contact him in person again.
Chapter Three
“Did you give the check to the doctor?” Ethan asked as James came into the makeshift office in the guest house.
James’s graying hair was damp from the rain outside, and the shoulders of his beige jacket were dark. “Yeah, it’s done.”
“Good, good.” Ethan pushed back in his chair, careful to keep his bad foot safely resting on the ottoman. “Was it enough?”
“Don’t know. I gave it to her receptionist. She said the doctor was in with a patient and that she’d be a while, so I left it with her.”
Ethan dropped his pen on the contracts he’d been scanning, and sank back in the leather swivel chair. After sitting at his desk for the better part of the day, his shoulders and injured leg had cramped. He wore shorts because they were easier to put on than long pants, with a plain white shirt he’d left unbuttoned.
“That place is ancient,” James said.
“What?”
“The doctor’s office. It’s in that old building on the sound side of the main street. I don’t see how anyone could practice medicine there.”
He remembered the property where the doctor had set up his practice after he’d moved it out of his home at the same location. The office, a nondescript building with a flat roof, two large windows in front and parking in front, had been built closer to the street. He’d been in there a couple of times years ago and remembered the tiny rooms, the waiting area with green vinyl chairs and month-old magazines.
“I guess it works for him,” he said, wondering why Morgan would have become a doctor, only to come back here to take over her father’s practice, such as it was.
“Speaking of doctors,” James said. “What did Dr. Perry say when you called him?”
“That I’ll live,” he murmured.
“Well, does that make us lucky or not?”
Ethan chuckled at that. “Depends on your mood, doesn’t it?”
James echoed his laugh. “Well, your mood’s good today. Despite the rain and the cold and all the organizers hurrying around in the main house as if they’re planning an event for world peace.”
“That’s why I’m down here.” He glanced up. “No, that doesn’t mean you can move in, either.”
James held out a hand palm out toward Ethan. “Did I ask?”
“You were going to,” Ethan said, then swiveled his chair to face the papers on the desk again.
“I was thinking, though, if you had another fall, where would you want me? Up at the house where you have to ring for me or right here to help you up off the floor?”
He remembered the doctor “helping him up,” and knew if he had to choose between James and her, the choice was simple. “I’ll manage,” he said.
“You always do,” James conceded. “So what do you want for dinner?”
A red-haired doctor with a gentle, cool touch. The thought stunned him, and he pushed it out of his consciousness. “Surprise me.”
“You’ve got it.”
Ethan checked the wall clock. It was almost six. One look out the window showed him the rain was easing, but the wind was gusting off the water. “Bring it down in an hour.”
“No problem. What about the bachelor party? Are you in or aren’t you?”
He’d barely had time to spend with Joe since his friend had come back, and had only met his fiancée once—she’d given Ethan a quick hug and a thank-you for throwing them the wedding party. He wanted to sit and talk with his friend. “Sure, count me in.”
“Great,” James said. “I haven’t been to a good bachelor party for years.”
“Don’t count on this one being groundbreaking,” Ethan commented and turned back to the contracts.
“I’m easy. Give me a beer and someone coming out of a cake and I’m happy.” With that, he left.
When the door finally shut, Ethan knew he couldn’t work. He slowly got to his feet and, with the aid of his crutch, made his way back through the house to the French doors. He pushed open the closest one and stepped out onto the deck. The rain was barely a mist now, but the air was still heavy with dampness and a deep chill.
He noticed in passing that the pot he’d broken hadn’t been replaced, just removed. He gripped the railing, and looked down at the beach to the south. He didn’t realize what he was doing, until he found himself scanning the water’s edge in both directions. She wasn’t there. No red-haired doctor walking the sands. He was vaguely disappointed, then he chuckled to himself. Who wouldn’t be disappointed not to see Morgan Kelly coming toward them?
The wind was stronger now, but he didn’t mind it or the cold. Since the accident, he liked the coolness around him. Heat tended to make him feel suffocated, and worse yet, it made his bad leg throb. Now all that bothered him was that he was here, alone. Maybe he’d call Natalie and see if she could come over for a day or so. But when he thought about it, he found the idea didn’t appeal to him for some reason.
Before he could figure out why, he caught movement on the beach to the south, and thought for a moment that he was conjuring up what he wanted to see instead of seeing the reality of an empty beach. Was that really Morgan Kelly coming into view, her brilliant hair loose and wind-tossed around her face? Walking toward him with easy strides, in dark clothes, the sway of her hips
