A Mistletoe Kiss For The Single Dad. Traci Douglass
Watson, are you all right? You didn’t return any of my calls today.”
Belle took a deep breath, forcing her emotions down deep and switching to professional mode. “I’m fine. Thank you. Just tired.”
“My condolences again on the passing of your aunt. Were you close?”
“Yes.” She blinked hard against the unwanted sting of more tears. “She raised me after my parents died.”
“I’m sorry. There’s nothing more important than family.”
At least she had the presence of mind not to point out the oddness of Dr. Reyes’s statement, since he’d been married three times.
“What’s the name of the town where you’re staying?” he asked. “Seaport?”
“Bayside.”
“Ah. I come from in a small town myself in Brazil. Five hundred people.”
Belle steeled herself to declare the bad news. “There may be an issue with my return date, sir.”
“What?” Dr. Reyes frowned. “Why? The standard three days to mourn and take care of your aunt’s affairs should be more than sufficient, Dr. Watson. And what of the patient I’m seeing in your absence? The breast reconstruction?”
Belle winced. In all the stress of today she’d forgotten about poor Cassie Gordon. At just twenty, her young patient had already been through five previous procedures to correct what should’ve been a simple case of asymmetry. But now her case had become a nightmare of complications due the earlier botched surgeries by other physicians. The procedure had taken Belle three hours for what should have been forty-minute surgery. There’d been vast amounts of scar tissue to remove and internal suturing required to close things up properly. “Is Miss Gordon doing well?”
“For now.” Annoyance crept into Dr. Reyes’s tone. “Explain to me why you must stay.”
Belle cleared her suddenly constricted throat. “There’s more to do than I expected to settle my aunt’s estate and I’m the only family she had left. Plus, there was a stipulation.”
“A stipulation?”
“Yes. Her final wish was for us to reopen the free clinic on Christmas Eve before we liquidate the proceeds.”
“We?”
Images of Nick tonight at the diner flooded Belle’s mind once more before she shoved them aside. “I inherited half of my aunt’s estate, along with another person.”
Dr. Reyes frowned. “Splitting assets is a complicated business, but you went home to pay respects, not revive your aunt’s medical practice.”
“I know, sir.” Bristling under the censure in his tone, Belle raised her chin. “None of this was my intention, but things are a bit more complicated than I anticipated.” Her heart pinched as she remembered her aunt soldiering on through what must have been one of the most difficult times in her life on Belle’s behalf all those years ago. If her aunt could do it, then she could too. “The free clinic will reopen on Christmas Eve, then I’ll fly home on the holiday. I realize this is an inconvenience, but I’ll work double shifts, triple even, once I return. Whatever you need.”
“What I need, Dr. Watson, is to know your priorities are straight,” Dr. Reyes said, then sighed. “Fine. But I expect you to be back in California on Christmas, nine days from now. Not too much to ask, I think, after everything I’ve done for you in your career.”
His words pulled Belle up short. Yes, he’d hired Belle fresh out of residency, advising her on the ins and outs of conquering the Everest-sized mountain of Beverly Hills plastic surgery. But she’d had other lucrative offers, as well. And she’d worked hard, made a lot of sacrifices herself to get where she was. If all she’d accomplished on her own volition didn’t win her the right to take sole ownership of her success, then she didn’t know what did. It also made her doubts about the partnership and what she truly wanted stir more strongly inside her. Still, she was resolved to do her duty, for now. “Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”
In truth, wrapping everything up here by Christmas was pushing it, but she’d figure it out. She worked miracles on a daily basis with her patients. She’d survived losing her parents and losing the boy she’d loved back in high school. She’d survive losing Aunt Marlene too.
“Good,” Dr. Reyes said, bringing her back to the present. “I’ll check in with you again tomorrow re your patient.”
He ended the call and she sat there staring at the Christmas tree for a long time afterward, her mind racing. For the past eighteen years she’d worked so hard to get where she was, never once stopping to look at all the things she’d missed, all the things that had slipped away or fallen by the wayside in her pursuit of success. But she loved her life, loved her work, loved the new opportunities on her horizon.
Don’t I?
To be honest, it had begun to ring a bit hollow lately.
A bit lonely too.
Letting her head fall back against the cushions, Belle picked up a crocheted pillow and stared at the quote embroidered there: Bloom where you’re planted.
Belle was trying hard to keep on blooming, even if the soil right now felt pretty rocky.
“Time for bed, Con,” Nick called as he turned down the flannel sheets in his son’s room. They’d picked them out a few weeks previously during a trip to the big-box store in Manistee. Goofy lime-green monsters and bright orange superheroes covered the material. Nick had been obsessed with the latest space movie characters when he’d been a kid too.
Like father, like son.
“Dad, who was the woman at dinner tonight?” Con asked as he walked into the room and climbed into bed in his pajamas, wiping toothpaste from his mouth with his sleeve. “She seemed kind of…stressed out.”
“She probably was,” Nick sighed as he tucked his son in. Honestly, Belle had seemed ready to shatter at any minute. The idea bothered Nick more than he cared to admit. He had no business worrying about Belle. He’d made a vow to his dying wife on the day she’d passed away—to put their son first, to keep him happy and safe. His needs came second, if at all. After everything Vicki had sacrificed to marry him, it was the least he could do. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Belle’s been through a lot. Dr. Marlene was her aunt.”
“Are you guys friends?” Con leaned back against the pillows resting against his headboard, looking as energetic as ever. Nick’s hopes for a quick good night faded.
“We used to be. Go to sleep. You’ve got school in the morning.” He stood and walked to the door. The past was over and bringing it up now would only lead to more questions from Connor. Questions Nick did not want to answer tonight. Maybe not ever.
Unfortunately, his son wasn’t going to let the subject of Belle drop so easily. “So, why aren’t you friends anymore?”
Because Belle and I have too much history. Instead, he said, “It’s complicated.”
His son’s determination gave way to obstinacy. “Mom said talking about things made them better.”
“Your mom…” Nick started, then stopped. It was true. Vicki had been a good talker. A good listener too. It was one of the reasons she and Nick had first become pals in medical school. In fact, the night Vicki had gotten pregnant, she’d been consoling Nick about his loneliness over Belle. She’d been nursing her wounds over a bad breakup herself. They’d both had too much to drink and one thing had led to another. It had been a fluke, a one-night stand, but eight weeks later Vicki had told him she was pregnant. Nick had done the noble thing, of course, and proposed. Vicki had agreed, despite the fact she’d had dreams too, had been on track