Diagnosis: Expecting Boss's Baby

Patrick started the engine. “I took some to Mrs. McLanahan while she’s laid low.”

“Her arthritis is really painful,” Natalie said. “I dropped by last night with Chinese food. She says it’s okay to cheat on her low-cholesterol diet once in a while.”

“That was kind of you.” He hadn’t realized it was a flareup of arthritis that had sidelined the usually vivacious widow. “You’re always doing things for people. I know they appreciate it.”

“My sister Alana says I help too much.” She snuggled against the soft leather upholstery. “She calls me an enabler, but that’s not true.”

“Helping people doesn’t mean you’re underwriting their bad habits.” Patrick stopped the car at Serene Boulevard. “Which way?”

“Amy lives down in West Serene, near the Black Cat Café.” The club was known for its large deli sandwiches and funky music. “Is that too far out of your way?” She knew, of course, about the luncheon.

“Not by much.” Patrick didn’t mind a little inconvenience. He had plenty of time.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Nat studying him. She pressed her lips together, then touched them with the tip of her tongue as if she had something to say but wasn’t sure whether she wanted to say it.

“You feeling okay?” he asked.

“Why, do I look different?” Natalie said.

“Your cheeks are kind of flushed,” he said. “You aren’t ill, are you?”

“I feel great.”

“Good.” That conversation had gone nowhere, he thought, and wished he knew what else to say. In silence, they headed south on Serene Boulevard, passing the intersection with Bordeaux Way that led to the main entrance of Doctors Circle.

“How do you feel about kids?” Natalie asked out of the blue.

The question stopped him cold. “That’s funny,” Patrick said. “My sister made the same point earlier.”

“What point?” It was her turn to look confused.

“She believes I was happier when I was in pediatrics. Although I don’t understand how you’d know that, since we weren’t working together then,” he said. “I do miss the children. But in the long run I’m helping more of them in my current position.”

“I meant…” She let the sentence trail off. “Look, there’s a crafts fair at Outlook Park.” Ahead on the right, Patrick saw a cheerful cluster of booths amid the greenery. “Can we stop for a minute? I need to get a couple of presents.”

“Fine with me.” He rarely browsed through crafts sales, but with Natalie, it ought to be fun.

They parked in the lot and joined the shoppers. Quickly Natalie selected a set of enamel earrings for one friend and a fanciful hat for a niece.

“I’ve got lots of nieces and nephews,” she explained as she chose a couple of extra items for future occasions. “Oh, this one’s for me!” She picked up a stuffed bunny.

“You’re loyal to your rabbit motif, I see.” Patrick had given Natalie a bunny paperweight for Secretary’s Day, along with lunch and flowers. Thank goodness his sister had reminded him of the event and pointed out the bunny images on Natalie’s coffee mug.

“It’s too bad I didn’t pick a rarer animal,” his secretary said, skirting a stroller. “If I collected hedgehogs, I wouldn’t buy so many curios. But rabbits appeal to me.”

When she stopped at another booth, Patrick volunteered to carry her rapidly filling shopping bag. “I can at least make myself useful.”

“Thanks.” She handed it over. “You’re not bored, are you?”

“I enjoy watching you shop,” he said truthfully.

“Are you sure—Oh, what a cute little coin-box wishing well! I’ll buy it for Amy.”

She looked far more animated here than at work. Younger and more relaxed, too, the way she had that day on the yacht, Patrick noted as Natalie added yet another item to her purchases.

He imagined he could still smell the sea breeze in her hair. With her, that afternoon, he’d forgotten everything except the joy in her eyes and the luminous pleasure of their coupling.

“Natalie!” A woman with a small boy in tow stopped in front of them. “I never got a chance to thank you for last weekend.”

“It was fun,” Natalie said.

“Baby-sitting a toddler may be fun, but it’s also hard work.” To Patrick, the woman explained, “My husband was in the hospital. Thanks to Natalie, I was able to stay at his bedside. Are you one of her brothers?”

“A friend,” he said. “I hope your husband’s better.”

“He’s fine now.” The woman hung on as her little boy tried to pull free. “Natalie does more for people than anyone else in our church.”

“I do not!”

“We all know we can count on you,” she said. “And we appreciate it.”

Abruptly the little boy broke loose, lost his balance and fell. A wail tore through the air.

“What’s the matter, Joey?” His mother squatted beside him.

“Knee hurts!” He pointed to red scrape marks.

“Let me see.” Patrick knelt, set aside the shopping bag and took out his handkerchief. “Let’s wipe that off until your mom has a chance to wash it.”

“Please don’t get your handkerchief all—” The woman stopped, because it was too late.

Carefully Patrick cleared away the clinging bits of grass and pebble. “You’re very brave,” he said.

“Big owie,” Joey replied earnestly.

“This is a major owie in anybody’s book,” Patrick agreed. “You know what? You’re going to have a nice scab. Have you ever had a scab before?”

Joey started to nod, then shook his head. He watched the doctor in fascination.

“Don’t pick at the scab,” Patrick said. “Even if it itches. Any time you start to scratch it, clap your hands together, instead. Can you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

Joey clapped his hands.

Still in a kneeling position, Patrick took a bow. “Thank you.”