Daddy's Little Matchmakers. Kathleen Y'Barbo
The vet waved, solving the problem of how to respond, so she did the same.
Checking her watch, Amy gathered up her novel and rose. Four more hours of work, and her temporary job at the paper would end. Then she’d be forced to decide whether to allow the temp agency to place her elsewhere or perhaps to pack her things and move on.
Surely there was work for a trained florist somewhere. Trained florist. More like a girl who’d picked so many flowers as a child that her mother finally taught her how to make something pretty of her mess. Amy giggled at the thought.
“You have a nice laugh.”
She jumped, dropping the novel as she whirled around to see Eric Wilson crossing Main Street. Scrambling for the book, she tugged at the edge of her blouse and tried not to allow her embarrassment to show.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
His worried expression made her smile in spite of her flustered state. “No, it’s fine. Really.” She lifted her hand to smooth back her hair and promptly dropped the book again.
The vet leaned to reach for the novel and so did Amy. Before either could accomplish the task, their heads bumped. Wincing, Amy felt the heat rise in her neck. As she took a step backward, Eric retrieved the book.
“I’m sorry,” he said again as he thrust the book toward her. “Seems I’ve now got two reasons to apologize.”
“No, really.” Amy took the book and held it tight against her chest. “I’m fine.” She glanced down at the smudge of brown decorating her blouse and saw the source: a nasty smear of dirt in a matching color on the novel’s back cover. She quickly flipped the book around and adjusted its location to cover the spot then slowly lifted her eyes to meet his stare.
An awkward moment passed and then he reached to offer her his hand. “Eric Wilson,” he said. “I’m new to Vine Beach.” He gestured to the clinic behind him. “Bought the practice from Doc Simmons a few months ago.” A pause. “And you’re Amy. The classifieds girl.”
Amy shook his hand as she pondered the statement. The vet must have noticed her expression of confusion for he hastened to add, “I called back and someone told me Amy the classifieds girl was at lunch. Sitting in the park. Reading a book. And so, since I was on the cell and could plainly see that there was a woman sitting in the park next to the newspaper office reading a book, I…” He released her hand and took a step backward then looked away. “Anyway,” he finally said, “I wanted to apologize for hanging up the call so abruptly. Things just got a little noisy and then the dog got loose and, well, I really hadn’t intended for them to overhear, anyway.”
“Happens all the time,” Amy hastened to say as she tried not to study his handsome features or notice the slight hint of what might be tiredness in his eyes. His lovely eyes, she amended.
“Especially lately,” he said softly. “What I mean is, the girls are getting settled into their new home and new school, which means things have been a little…”
“Noisy?” she supplied.
“Yes,” Dr. Wilson said on a long exhale of breath. “They’re good girls, and I’m very glad I’ve got my mother here to help. But managing three girls while trying to get a vet practice off the ground has been an adventure.”
“Your daughters are adorable.” At his look of surprise, she shrugged. “I’ve seen you…that is, them, at church and, well, they’re adorable.”
“Oh, yes, right.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Thankfully they all look like their mother. They miss her, I’m afraid.”
Dr. Wilson’s eyes widened, and Amy knew he’d given her more insight than he’d intended. She hurried to cover the awkward moment with the first thing she could think of. “It’s hard to move with children, I would imagine.”
“Yes,” he said, seeming grateful for the gentle veer away from what was probably a sore subject. “Though the unpacking was much easier than the packing. It’s amazing the amount of things girls collect. Ribbons, bows, dolls and don’t get me started on the amount of clothes they have. And the shoes? Why does anyone need more than a dozen pairs of shoes?”
His chuckle was low and swift, and Amy quickly joined in. “Hey, now. We women need our accessories, and a girl can’t have her shoes be mismatched with her outfit. It just isn’t done.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. I suppose they inherited the shoe gene from their mother. She was forever explaining why she needed yet another pair.”
The town clock struck the half hour, and Amy jerked her attention in that direction. Time to return to her desk. “It’s my turn to apologize, Dr. Wilson. You see, my lunch hour’s over and…” She tilted her head toward the newspaper office. “I should get back to work.”
He followed her gaze then, as an expression of recognition dawned, and nodded. “Please, call me Eric.”
“Eric,” she echoed. “If you’ll call me Amy.” Shifting her book to the other hand, Amy reached out to shake his. His grip was firm, his smile slow in appearing. “It’s been nice meeting you.”
The vet seemed unsure of what to say. “Nice, yes,” he echoed. “And I’ll call again soon, Amy.” His eyes widened as he must have realized his word choice left his intentions in question. “To sell the boat,” he added. “Probably Monday. I should have a decent photo to use by then.”
“Monday. Right.” She almost told him that on Monday someone else would be taking his call. Before she could manage it, the vet had turned to sprint back across Main Street. As she watched him go, Amy wondered what it must be like to live in a noisy house. To have to end a call because children were laughing.
Amy sighed. Somewhere out there the Lord had a place for her. And perhaps there would be a family, as well. Whatever, wherever, she knew she would find that perfect fit. Until then, nothing in her life could be anything less than temporary.
Once again, Eric Wilson turned to wave, and this time she returned the gesture without hesitation. Silently she added a prayer that he, too, would find whatever it was he needed.
Eric Wilson slipped in the back door of the clinic and reached for the lone file awaiting his attention in his in-box then went into his office and closed the door. Unlike his in-box, his mailbox was stuffed full of envelopes, all bills needing to be paid. Eric sighed and settled behind the desk he’d inherited with the building.
Since arriving in Vine Beach and acquiring Dr. Simmons’s dwindling practice, he’d found it painfully obvious why the old vet had chosen to retire. There simply weren’t enough clients to keep a full-time veterinarian in business.
Of course, he’d known the size of the practice and had ample time to change his mind once he saw the sorry state of the ledger sheet, but coming to Vine Beach meant giving up some things. Financial solvency and his prize sailboat would just have to be sacrificed in the short term so his girls would be settled and happy in the long term.
It was a fair trade, though he would miss that sailboat dearly.
Perhaps he should call now and get it over with. He could always upload a photo of the craft tonight from his laptop. Surely he had a decent one saved somewhere. Besides, it would not be any easier to put the boat up for sale on Monday. Likely he would find too many good reasons to keep it instead.
Eric reached for the phone then decided the classifieds girl was probably not back at her desk. Amy, that was her name. And she was pretty. Eyes as blue as the sky and blond hair that fell in heavy curls over her shoulders. This much he’d allowed himself to notice. Anything more just felt wrong. As if he was somehow being unfaithful to his wife’s memory.
And yet his friends all told him to get on with his life. Just this morning his mother had gently reminded him it had been more than three years since Christy’s long battle with cancer had been lost. And then there were the seemingly nonstop questions