The Doctor's Accidental Family

“Sure. I like kids.” Zady hadn’t meant to volunteer for babysitting duty, but she wanted to find out more about Nick’s son.

“It would mean a lot to me.” Reaching across the table, Nick plucked a radish from a bowl and added it to her plate. “A token of my esteem, madam.”

“I’m overwhelmed.”

They were grinning when Marshall emerged from the kitchen. He broke his stride, his high cheekbones coloring.

Oh, great. He probably assumed they were flirting, which they weren’t—exactly. Zady nearly rushed in with an explanation, but they’d been discussing Nick’s private business. Also, what she did on her days off didn’t concern Marshall.

“See you around,” she told Nick, and, with a smile for her boss, carried her food away to eat in peace.

Chapter Five (#ulink_cdf08b8e-e6a8-5ca3-bce9-683a2db99a80)

Keenly aware of the proximity of other people, Nick kept his voice low as he faced his cousin across the dining room. “Don’t take it out on her.”

“Don’t take what out on her?” Marshall frowned at a cabinet full of showy china, then—with an expression of distaste—plucked a paper plate off the stack. Funny how easily Nick tracked his cousin’s reactions, even though they’d avoided contact these past few years. “You mean I shouldn’t blame her because she’s on good terms with my cousin? As always, you assume I’m an ogre.”

As always, I’m probably right. That would sound childish, Nick conceded. “I had no idea you’d joined the staff.”

“Same here.” With surgical precision, Marshall formulated a sandwich, trimming off edges of meat and cheese that lapped over the crust. “I’ve admired Cole Rattigan for years. Anyone would leap at the opportunity to join his program and play a role in its growth.”

Leaning against a wall, Nick started to bite into his pita, but he’d overfilled it. To avoid smearing his face, he returned it to his plate. “My motives were less noble. I applied for the overnight labor-and-delivery shift, plus evening hours, to pay for my student loans.” He paused, unsure whether to reveal more.

“Is that a slam?” Marshall asked, measuring a small, rounded serving of carrot salad.

“How would that be a slam?”

“You resent my financial advantages,” his cousin said.

“I’d love to be debt-free,” Nick conceded. “I’d also love to have had a father like yours who supported his family instead of abandoning them. That doesn’t mean I resent you for either.”

Marshall’s eyes narrowed. Had Nick unwittingly stepped on his toes with such a plain statement of fact?

“I hadn’t considered your perspective.” Marshall gazed distractedly through the window toward the wetlands that bordered Karen’s property.

Above the brown-and-green expanse, a pelican took flight, and Nick recalled reading that the estuary was a bird sanctuary. Its decomposing vegetation was also the source of a rotten-egg smell he’d noticed outside. Mercifully, it either didn’t penetrate the house or he’d quickly grown accustomed to it.

His cousin continued, “But you haven’t considered my perspective, either.”

“Enlighten me.”

“My dad may have paid the bills, but he spent almost every waking minute running his company.” The late Upton Davis had founded a medical-device firm to market his designs. “I wish he’d spent more time with me. But you’re right. I was lucky I didn’t have an alcoholic father.”

“Dad’s primary problem wasn’t alcoholism, it was being bipolar.” Nick didn’t mean to defend the man. “Not that that’s an excuse. He failed in his obligations and I’m still picking up the pieces.”

Marshall shrugged. “The bottom line being, we’re colleagues now.”

“And since we are, let me clear up a misconception.” No sense allowing ignorance to fester. “Whatever you may have heard, I did not abandon my son. I’ve helped support Caleb for the past three years and visited as often as his mother and my schedule would allow. Now that she’s dead, I have legal custody, although at present he’s staying with his grandparents.”

“You have custody of your son? I apologize for misinforming Zady.” Marshall’s face revealed an unexpected glint of longing. “And you named him Caleb after our grandfather? That’s excellent.”

When Nick had suggested it before the birth, Bethany had merely added it to her list of possible names. He was grateful she’d chosen it. “Too bad Grandpa didn’t live to meet his namesake.”

His cousin swallowed. “You’re a lucky guy.”

“Yes, I am.” It had never occurred to Nick that Marshall might envy him for being a father. Perhaps the man’s steely surface and superior attitude didn’t tell the whole story.

The drift of people into the adjacent living room discouraged further conversation. Jack Ryder quirked an eyebrow at Nick as if to ask what he and Marshall had been discussing.

Did this dispute about the dental building have to spark armed us-against-them camps? Well, perhaps where he and his cousin were concerned, a certain amount of antagonism was inevitable.

Taking his leave, he carried his bulging pita into the kitchen to eat over the sink and dispose of the mess.

Zady had had a point, he reflected, and not only about fixing smaller sandwiches. Staying out of office politics was a prudent policy, not that he would necessarily adopt it.

He hoped for more of her good advice tomorrow. Six months ago, allowing the Carrigans to keep his son had been the best course for the boy’s well-being, but that had changed.

* * *

WHAT DID YOU WEAR on a not-date with an attractive man while avoiding a wrong impression, especially when you weren’t sure what the right impression was?

Zady laid out several pairs of pants, then removed the jeans because the little boy’s grandparents might disapprove. Then again, no matter how strongly Nick assured them Zady was merely a friend, they’d undoubtedly compare her to their daughter’s sainted memory. They must still be grieving deeply.

She studied her remaining choices. Navy slacks and a print blouse struck her as too much like a uniform. What about tan slacks and a red, blue and tan–striped shirt? Should she pair it with a red sweater or a tan one?

She could use feedback—not Zora’s, since Zady wasn’t about to spread the word that she’d be accompanying Nick. She missed the easy exchanges of opinion she’d had with her friend Alice Madison. They used to consult each other about all sorts of issues when they worked in the same medical building in Santa Barbara.

Zady picked up the phone. It ought to be possible to reestablish ties, since Alice’s new address in Culver City was less than an hour’s drive from here. They might even meet for lunch occasionally on weekends.

Several buzzes later, her friend’s voice responded with a puzzled “Hello?”

Hadn’t she recognized Zady’s number? “It’s me, Zady.”

A pause, then a lackluster “Hi.”

Judging by her friend’s uncharacteristic lack of energy, all was not well. Zady felt foolish for calling about such a trivial matter. Her heart squeezed at the possibility that anything might be wrong with Alice’s little girl, Linda, who was Zady’s godchild. A health problem would also explain why she’d received only a perfunctory email thanking her for the doll playhouse she’d sent at Christmas.

“How are things?” Zady asked.

“Not good.” Alice took a shaky breath. “Bill and I may be splitting.”

“You can’t!” Great response. “I mean, he seems like such a nice guy.”

In her late thirties, Alice had recovered from an early divorce and become a radiant bride, marrying a physiotherapist who shared her goals and showered her with affection. Pooling their medical expertise and interest in health, they’d launched a company that put on lifestyle seminars and sold health supplements and portable exercise equipment.

“We thought moving to Southern California would be fantastic for business, and it has been,” Alice said. “What we didn’t count on was the amount of work it would be. Add a toddler to the mix and we hardly ever have a free moment. When we do, we argue.”

Tucking the phone against her shoulder, Zady changed into the tan pants. “This is a temporary glitch. You can work through it.”