Family Practice

“House hunting,” Callie said, although she hadn’t actually planned on it until that moment.

“Hmm,” Karen said, aiming the next handful of popcorn so it fell like a puffy white shower on top of the hens’ heads. “Too close for comfort with Doc Hottie on the other side of the wall, huh?”

“What are you talking about?” Callie hoped she wasn’t blushing. “No, it’s not Zach. Well, mostly it’s not Zach. The duplex is income property, after all, and sort of out of my price range now that it’s high season.” She could afford the rent on the duplex for a couple of months, but as she suspected he would, her father had refused to accept it. “And besides, it’s too small.”

“Too small? Don’t try to flimflam me.” Her mother rolled her eyes. “It’s Zach. He’s a hottie,” Karen repeated, fanning herself with one hand. “Every premenopausal woman within twenty miles flocks to him for sympathy and hand-holding. And a bunch of the older ones who ought to know better, too.”

Callie took a moment to consider what her mother had just said. Karen had spoken lightly and more than half-teasingly, but there was probably a lot of truth in her observation about the town’s ladies. She wondered how Zach handled the unwanted attention. Very professionally, she was certain, and probably with good humor, she admitted grudgingly to herself, but would he be trying to transfer a gaggle of disappointed female patients onto her shoulders? Did he want her to take them to avoid the hassle and not because he recognized her skill? She would have to make it perfectly clear to him that she wanted a mix of patients of all ages and both sexes, not just women’s care. She would have to be very firm on that point when they met in the morning.

“Of course, if he was in a relationship, they wouldn’t be quite so pushy,” Karen continued, and Callie caught herself tilting her head just slightly to listen to what her mother had to say.

“He’s dating someone?” She wished she had enough self-control not to ask the question but she didn’t.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Karen admitted. “And I would have heard, believe me. The gossip chain in this town moves at the speed of light.”

“I don’t know anything about him, really,” Callie confessed. “Just little things. He grew up in California and served as a navy medic attached to a Marine unit for two tours in Afghanistan. That’s how he met Rudy and eventually ended up here.”

Karen nodded. “I don’t think he has family, or if he does they are all out west. He eats most of his meals out. That’s another favorite pastime for the older women in town, feeding him. As for some of the younger ones, like I said, it’s not his stomach they’re interested in.” She sighed a little wistfully. “Although I have to admit it’s a very nice flat one. And those shoulders—”

“Hang on, Mom, I’m getting up,” Callie said, forestalling any more comments on Zach Gibson’s physique. She put one foot onto the floor of the glider and the other on the ground before she scooted off the seat. The glider rocked, forcing her to take a quick step to avoid landing with her face in a pot of nasturtiums. “I will never get the hang of getting out of this thing,” she grumbled.

“You’re going already? I hoped to talk you into staying for supper.” Karen sounded disappointed.

“I promised Dad I’d have supper with him and Ginger and the kids,” she said cautiously. She had to be careful how she handled these kinds of situations with her mother. Luckily she’d had a lot of practice over the years. “I haven’t spent any more time with them than I have with you this week.” She wasn’t overly thrilled about the prospect of making small talk with her stepmother and stepsiblings after the day she’d had, but she hadn’t been able to refuse the invitation, just as she hadn’t been able to convince her conscience that a visit to her mother could wait a few more days. “I’ll come out any day next week you want me.”

Karen’s expression lightened. “The kale is ready to pick and I’ve been hungry for creamed kale and new potatoes.”

Callie made a little face. Karen rolled her eyes. “All right, I’ll add some ham. How does that sound?”

“Better,” Callie said, grinning. Karen ate little meat. Callie had nothing against vegetables but she preferred some protein mixed in with them.

“And I have a strawberry-rhubarb pie in the freezer. I’ll bake that for dessert.”

“I’ll bring ice cream from Kilroy’s. I might not be able to get here early enough to make our own.”

“Wonderful.” Karen shooed the chickens back toward their enclosure. They went, tails high and fluffed, ships under sail. “Call and let me know what day is good for you.”

“I will, I promise. But it will probably be later in the week. Everything’s still pretty hectic at the clinic, and since I’ll be seeing regular patients for the first time, the visits will take longer than usual. I’ll probably be running behind schedule the first few days.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

“Good luck with your negotiations with Doc Hottie,” Karen said with a little half smile that could be interpreted in all kinds of ways. Callie chose not to notice the open-ended comment.

“Thanks. Love you.” She let Karen enfold her in a quick hug and then headed for her car before her mother could say anything else.

* * *

THE OTHER HALF of her family, she discovered, wasn’t averse to asking her questions about Zach Gibson, either; they were just a little slower getting to the subject. The five of them were eating at the cook’s table in the restaurant kitchen instead of upstairs. Ginger had no problem admitting she couldn’t hold a candle to Mac’s cooking and wasn’t about to try.

“I helped Mac prep the vegetables today,” Brandon announced, proudly indicating the sautéed fresh green beans on Callie’s plate. He had evidently decided a grown-up stepsister was preferable to a new baby in the family and had attached himself to Callie as soon as she walked through the door, even offering to help her with chores around the cottage to earn money for a new computer game. Becca, however, had kept her distance. “Mac won’t let me use a knife until I’m thirteen, but I’m thinking I might be a chef someday,” Brandon chatted on.

Becca snorted. “Last week you wanted to be a fireman. The week before that you were going to be a professional gamer and make a billion dollars designing computer games.” Callie noticed the girl had eaten two servings of the green beans and most of her fish, but hadn’t touched the fresh-baked rolls dipped in honey butter or the sweet-potato casserole.

“I changed my mind,” Brandon responded. “The good chefs make a lot of money, too, and write books and have their own TV shows and everything.”