Hannah had chosen three women and now I'd met all of them. They were as different from one another as any three women could be. As far as I could tell, Hannah had included Macy Roth for comic relief. Hardly ever had anyone, male or female, irritated me more. Hannah had suggested that Macy would make me laugh; however, she'd been wrong. If anything, Macy left me with the urge to pull out my hair by the roots.
For all my musing I hadn't come to a firm decision about Winter or Leanne. I'd hire Macy to paint the mural, but not out of any genuine desire to know her. I'd spent maybe ten minutes in her company and had no doubt whatsoever about how I felt. She was off the list. The mural was a good idea, though, and if the photographs were any indication, her work was acceptable. I'd give her the job. I'd completed my duty as far as Hannah was concerned. I'd met Macy and made my decision.
That left Winter and Leanne. It was only fair I get to know them both, then make my choice. Or not.
I found a semblance of peace in that nondecision. A calmness of spirit. I wasn't sure I'd ever experience real peace again, but this felt close. I was satisfied with what I'd determined to do.
The rest of the day passed smoothly and I'd just seen my last patient for the day, a six-year-old boy who'd managed to get a tiny toy car stuck up his nose. I showed him a couple of magic tricks I saved for occasions such as this, which helped him relax, and I was able to retrieve it from his sinus cavity.
Young Peter's awed reaction to my "magic" delighted me, and I was grinning as I walked out of the exam room.
Linda met me at the door. "This is your day for female visitors," she said, looking pleased with herself--as if she alone was responsible for bringing these women into my life.
I assumed it was Leanne Lancaster.
"She's brought a sketch for you."
Macy Roth.
I could've finished the week without another confrontation with that screwball and been happy.
"Is she waiting in my office?"
"She is."
I wanted to tell Linda to wipe that smirk off her face. Macy Roth was not a love interest, past, present or future.
When I entered my office I caught her leafing through a medical book. That annoyed me. It took a lot of nerve to remove a volume from my private library without asking permission first.
She glanced up and didn't reveal the slightest embarrassment.
I walked over, pulled the book out of her hands and pointedly replaced it on the shelf. "You brought a sketch?" I asked.
"Yes, I put it on your desk."
I was curious about the type of scene she might have envisioned for my wall. If she was as imaginative as I supposed, the idea would be clever and amusing.
I had a small table in the room and rolled out the sketch, anchoring it with a paperweight and a book on opposite corners. One look at the ocean scene, and I frowned. She'd drawn a wave and in the crest of it were turtles and tropical fish of all sizes and colors. In the distance beyond the wave, a sailfish leaped into the air. There was a whale in the background.
"This isn't what I want," I said, trying to understand what I found so objectionable. I suspected it was more my attitude toward Macy than the sketch itself. Still, I felt the kids who came into my practice might think it wasn't interesting or whimsical or exotic enough. The mural was meant to entertain and distract them, not provide a zoology lesson.
"Why not?" she challenged.
"I just don't. It's not...kid-themed," I muttered.
"You told me to draw whatever I felt would work, and I did."
"True, and I apologize, but the ocean scene doesn't suit me," I said flatly. "I'd like another alternative." She was right; I'd basically given her free rein, but at the same time I retained approval. "Come up with a different approach."
"Fine," she said shortly. She reached for the sketch and rolled it up. "I don't have a problem with developing something else. However, before I spend several hours putting together a new scene, it would help if I had some idea of what you're looking for."
"I don't know. Zoo animals, I suppose."
"Zoo animals," she repeated, obviously disappointed in my answer. "I can do that...I guess."
"In a jungle scene," I added. "Gorillas, giraffes and lions should do nicely."
"You got it."
"When can I expect to see a new sketch?"
Macy paused, eyes on the ceiling as though mentally reviewing her commitments. "Does Monday afternoon work for you?"
I walked behind my desk to my appointment calendar and nodded, then wrote it in. "That should be fine. Make it 5:00 p.m."
Nodding, Macy stopped on her way to the door. "Are you positive you don't like the ocean scene?"
"Unfortunately, yes." My reaction had been immediate.
"I could throw in a ship. I'd thought of doing that and I didn't, and now I'm sorry."
"I wouldn't have liked it with the ship, either," I told her.
"Harvey liked it...well, as much as Harvey likes anything."
"Is Harvey one of your cats?" I remembered that Macy had several cats. Why that detail stuck in my mind I could only speculate. She talked about them as if they were human, which was odd enough, but soliciting a cat's views on a piece of art...
"Harvey is my neighbor, and he has exquisite taste."
This was apparently a dig at me for disliking the ocean scene. I recalled that she'd mentioned this Harvey in our first phone conversation. "No doubt he does, but it isn't his office where you'll be painting the mural."
"That's too bad," she muttered.
"One day another client might ask you for an ocean scene and you'll have it in your inventory."
She shrugged, but didn't respond.
I steered her toward the door, unwilling to continue the conversation. I wasn't interested in her next-door neighbor's opinion. The only opinion that mattered here was mine, and I didn't want the children who came into my office staring at fish.
"I'll have the jungle scene for your review on Monday," Macy said as she swept out of my office. "At five."
Feeling a twinge of guilt I realized my attitude wasn't entirely fair or open-minded. Macy was simply too...unconventional for me. Too erratic and unpredictable. In any case, I felt I'd done my duty by Hannah. From this point forward I'd concentrate my efforts on Winter and Leanne.
Thinking about Winter, I decided now was a good time to give her a call and thank her for the croissants. I waited until everyone had left the clinic, then closed my office door.
Surprisingly, I felt a sense of anticipation. I tried to think of something Winter and I might do together. I'd taken Leanne to dinner and, while that had been pleasant, I was looking for a different activity with Winter, since she owned a restaurant and eating out might be too much like work for her--too much like checking out the competition.
I called Winter's cell number; she answered on the second ring.
"It's Michael. I wanted to thank you again for the croissants," I began.
"You're very welcome."
She seemed pleased to hear from me, and that was encouraging. "The croissants disappeared so fast I was fortunate to get one." I'd eaten it with my lunch and savored every bite.
"There's always more where those came from," she teased.
I felt utterly inept at flirting, but stumbled ahead. "I was hoping, you know, that the two of us might get together soon."
"Ah, sure. When?"
"How about Sunday afternoon?" I tossed that out, although I didn't have a single idea of what we might do.
"What do you suggest?"
"Well..." I thought for a moment. "If the weather's nice we could ride bikes." This was something Hannah and I used to enjoy. A surge of pain tightened my chest. I was surprised when the memory didn't hurt as much or last as long as I'd come to expect.
"I...don't have a bike," Winter said with what sounded like regret.
"Not to worry, I have an extra one in the garage. Actually, it belonged to Hannah." I figured Winter wouldn't mind borrowing Hannah's old bicycle.
"Okay, why not? But I have to warn you it's been years since I got on a bike."
"You'll pick it up right away," I assured her. "It really is true that once you've learned you never forget."
"That's good to know."
Already I was looking forward to the weekend.
We chatted for a few more minutes and then just before I was ready to hang up Winter said, "I'm glad you called."
"I am, too," I said and I meant it. Wherever our relationship went--whether we became close friends or casual ones, whether we experimented with romance or eventually fell in love--I was prepared to accept.
What would be would be.
Chapter Seventeen
"I have to wear a helmet?" Winter asked. "It's the law in King County," I explained. She seemed uncertain about every aspect of this venture. I was beginning to think taking out the bikes hadn't been such a great idea, after all. Winter had dressed in a matching pants outfit, and I worried that her cuff would get caught in the chain. By the time I noticed, it was too late to suggest she change clothes. I found a couple of metal pant clips and used them to secure the loose material, a concession to safety if not fashion. Her rhinestone-studded flip-flops weren't ideal for bike riding, either. I still had a pair of Hannah's biking shoes and recommended she wear those. Their feet seemed to be about the same size. Since Winter hadn't cycled in years, I worked with her for several minutes until I was confident she wouldn't have a problem. Then we both climbed on our bikes and rode up and down the block before we set out beyond the neighborhood.
"How are you doing?" I called back to her.
"Great."
Her reply sounded tentative, so I made another circuit of the block, riding slowly. Hannah had been a competent cyclist, but it was unfair to compare Winter to her. I'd need to remind myself of that. I appreciated Winter's willingness to at least try. My hope was that in time she'd come to enjoy biking, which I loved.
I was surprised to realize how long it'd been since I'd last taken out my bike. Hannah and I had often talked about riding in the STP, the Seattle to Portland Bicycle Race held every July. It's a two-day event and we'd been gearing up for the ride when Hannah was diagnosed. She'd wanted me to participate, but I'd refused. It wouldn't have been any fun without her.
Ritchie rode a stationary bike at the gym, but I couldn't imagine him out on the streets in a serious ride. Not because he lacked athletic ability, but because he couldn't care less about cycling. Baseball was his sport and he was a rabid Seattle Mariners fan. He watched or attended every game the team played, memorized the stats and was a font of useless information. Useless, that was, in my opinion, although I'd never say that to Ritchie's face.
Absorbed in my own thoughts, I hadn't noticed that I'd gotten quite far ahead of Winter. I glanced over my shoulder and saw her wobbling dangerously. I turned my bicycle, intent on rejoining her. Winter saw me turn and for whatever reason decided to stop.
I could see her start to fall, but I was unable to help. She couldn't get her foot released fast enough and as a result she crashed onto her side, the bicycle on top of her. It seemed to happen in slow motion, but I'm sure it didn't feel that way to Winter.
