The Marriage Portrait. Pamela Bauer
Lynn quipped.
Michael threw up his hands in defense. “Hey! I’m only thirty-five. Even if that is old in dog years, it’s young in man years. And you ladies know I’m perfectly happy being your boss and dedicating my time and energy to what I love most—my patients. Speaking of which, aren’t there any here this morning?”
“They can wait,” Tabitha assured him. “Finish your cake.”
“And tell us your plans for this evening,” Jenny added.
“I believe Tessie is cooking a special meal for me. I offered to take her out to dinner, but she insisted on cooking it herself,” he answered.
“And so you should let her. She’s enjoys fussing over you,” Tabitha said. “You’re lucky to have such a wonderful woman for a mother.”
Michael couldn’t argue that one. He was very fortunate indeed to have Tessie McFerrin for a mother. He finished the cake, washed it down with a couple of sips from his bottle of mineral water, then reached for his lab coat.
“Time for work,” he announced as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of the white jacket.
“You will keep us posted, won’t you, Dr. Mac?” Phyllis asked.
“About what?”
“Whether or not your horoscope is right.”
“You mean about the lucky months?” he quipped with a smile.
Phyllis gave him a playful punch on the arm, prompting Tabitha to say, “Never mind him, Phyl. His time is coming. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Michael smiled to himself. Little did they know, he thought, and went to greet his first patient.
EVERY TIME MICHAEL DROVE to Tessie’s home on Lake Minnetonka, he could feel a sense of calmness wash over him. There was something to be said about going home, especially when that home was located on one of the state’s largest lakes in a sleepy little town nearly surrounded by water.
When Tessie and her husband had first built the house, it had been one of the many charming waterfront cottages dotting the shoreline. As the metropolitan area of Minneapolis and St. Paul had spread westward, the region had changed from a vacation resort to a residential community.
Now it was a playground for visitors, plus home to many who were fortunate enough to have one of the residences on the waterfront. Tessie was one of those residents living in a lake community yet having access to the city.
After knocking on her door and getting no answer, Michael reached into his pocket for his keys and let himself into the house.
“Tessie?” he called out, his voice resonating in the large, open hallway. He poked his head into the parlor, but she wasn’t sitting in her favorite chair—a rocker he’d given her for her birthday a few years back. As he crossed the foyer, an Abyssinian cat slinked across the tiled floor, meowing as she rubbed up against his legs.
He bent to scratch her neck. “Hey, Cleo. How’s life treating you?”
After a couple more meows, the cat slunk away. Michael guessed that Tessie was in the kitchen, for the aroma of pot roast tickled his nose. “Tessie?” he called out again, but still there was no answer.
He soon discovered she wasn’t busy at work preparing dinner. Although wonderful aromas permeated the kitchen, and numerous pots sat on the stove, Tessie was nowhere in sight.
The back door, however, was open. He stepped outside and made a quick survey of the yard. He saw the patio, where wicker furniture sat empty. Geraniums hung from the eaves of the gazebo, but the chairs inside were vacant. The sandy beach was empty, the bench at the end of the dock held no one. Finally he looked toward the flower garden that stretched the entire length of the yard. There he caught a glimpse of a wide-brimmed sun hat, but it slipped around the corner of the house.
“Tessie?” he called out, and the hat came back into full view.
A smiling Tessie waved her gloved hand and smiled. “Oh, you’re here already! I’ll be right there,” she called out to him, and disappeared momentarily before emerging with an armful of lilacs.
Watching her scoot across the yard caused a smile to appear on Michael’s face. For a woman of eighty-one, she was extremely agile and full of energy. Although her hair was as white as snow, there was nothing else about Tessie McFerrin that identified her as an octogenarian. She had a zest for life few women half her age possessed.
When she reached the back stoop, she motioned for him to bend so she could give him a hug and a kiss. “Happy Birthday, Michael. I’m so glad you’re spending it with me.”
“Me, too,” he told her, opening the back door for her. “Dinner smells wonderful.”
“It’s pot roast.”
He smiled. “I thought so.” She’d made it for him every year on his birthday ever since he could remember.
“It’s a lot of food for just two people,” she said as they stepped into the kitchen. “You should have brought a friend.”
“You’re the only one I want to be with on my birthday, Tessie. You know that.”
She carried the lilacs over to the sink where a cut crystal vase sat on the counter. As she filled the vase with water, she said, “Has it been a nice birthday so far?”
“Yes, I’ve had a very nice day,” he told her, which wasn’t exactly the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, either. Just because he didn’t want to celebrate his birthday didn’t mean he should tell her that. He couldn’t tell her that, not after all the preparations she’d made. “They had a cake for me at the office.”
“I knew they were going to. Tabitha called and said they were going to throw you a surprise party, but I told her that it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“Thank you for saying that. You know I’m not fond of birthdays.”
She set the flowers on the dining room table. “I know. That’s why I didn’t make a cake. I made pie. Lemon meringue.”
Another of his favorites. “You shouldn’t spoil me.”
She smiled innocently as she walked past him. “You’re fun to spoil. I’m surprised some other woman hasn’t discovered that by now.”
He let the remark slip without commenting. In recent months she’d been mentioning his single status more often. Michael thought it was probably because the older she became, the more she worried about him not having someone to share his life with after she was gone.
As she tied an apron around her waist, he said, “Is there anything I can do to help?”
She gave him a gentle shove toward the dining room. “It’s your birthday. You sit while I dish it up. It won’t take me but a few minutes.”
“But I want to help,” he insisted.
“Then open the wine and pour us each a glass,” she instructed. “There’s a bottle of white zinfandel chilling in the dining room.”
When he walked into the dining room, he saw the wine bucket with the bottle inside. He also noticed that there were not one but two pies cooling on the sideboard. When Tessie carried in a platter of pot roast with potatoes and vegetables, he asked, “Do we each get a pie for dessert?”
“As long as I was making one I thought I might as well make two. You never know when you’ll get unexpected company,” she answered innocently.
“You didn’t invite anyone over tonight, did you?”
“Of course not,” she answered quickly, then disappeared into the kitchen again.
When she returned, she carried the bun warmer and a large bowl of salad. “I think that’s about it,” she said, untying the apron from around her waist. “Shall we sit down?”
He