Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(32)

"I volunteered at the hospital picnic for children with cancer on Saturday."

"You said you were going to."

I inhaled and held my breath, then slowly released it. "While I was there, I ran into Leanne Lancaster."

Ritchie stared blankly at me.

"Leanne is one of the women on Hannah's list."

In typical fashion, Ritchie started to laugh. "I can see my sister's fingerprints all over this."

The problem was, I could, too. I was convinced that Hannah had been directing my life, as well as Leanne's. Not that I approved or was even interested in her plan. Or so I immediately told myself.

"Did the two of you talk?" Ritchie asked.

It took me a moment to realize he was referring to Leanne. "For a few minutes. She's divorced."

Ritchie looked thoughtful. "Hannah must've known that if she put her on the list."

The timing was right. Leanne had said her divorce was final nearly two years ago. That meant Leanne had been dealing with it when Hannah was undergoing chemotherapy.

"What's she like?" Ritchie asked.

"How do you mean?"

"Physically. Is she blonde, brunette? Tall or medium height?"

"Something like that," I said, as I reviewed our time together. Brunette, but I saw no reason to tell Ritchie that. Besides, physical appearance wasn't significant; what was far more important was the emotional connection I felt with her.

Ritchie shook his head, his expression amused. "Are you going to call her?"

Actually, I hadn't decided. "We talked about it, Leanne and I. She isn't over the divorce yet and you, better than anyone, know how raw I still feel."

"Ask her out," Ritchie urged. "What can it hurt?"

"We're two wounded people."

"See?" he joked. "You already have something in common."

I had to admit Ritchie had a point. I grinned. "Maybe I will." We reached the street, ready to part company.

"You have plans for next weekend?" my brother-in-law asked.

I mentally scanned my social calendar, which took all of two seconds. "Not that I can remember. Why?"

"It's Max's birthday. Steph's throwing him a party. I thought you could keep me company."

"Count me in." I appreciated the way Ritchie and Steph included me as both family and friend.

"Great. I'll give you the details about Saturday when I have them. See you Wednesday morning."

"Wednesday," I repeated and headed for the office.

The morning was fairly typical of any Monday in a pediatrician's clinic. The phone rang constantly and I had appointments scheduled practically on top of one another. A new influenza was going around; I saw three cases first thing. The big danger when children have the flu is dehydration, and I sent one four-year-old to the hospital.

I stepped into my office at lunchtime and shut the door. I'd ordered a Greek salad from the deli across the street and it sat on my desk. I pried open the lid and pierced some lettuce with my plastic fork. As I took my first bite, Leanne came to mind. I couldn't help wondering if she'd thought about me on Sunday. She'd occupied my thoughts, and I wasn't happy about it, either.

I leaned back in my chair as I contemplated my course of action. Although I'd mentioned getting in touch, I hadn't jotted down her phone number. As I'd pointed out to Leanne, I was rusty when it came to this dating business, but I didn't realize how much until that moment.

I checked the online telephone directory and found nothing listed for Leanne Lancaster or L. Lancaster. I doubted she'd still have a phone listing under her husband, but it wouldn't hurt to look. Only I couldn't think of his name. Mack? Matt? It definitely began with an M--didn't it?

I tilted back my head and closed my eyes in an effort to remember. Then it came to me. Mark. His name was Mark Lancaster.

I set my salad aside, scooping up a kalamata olive and popping it in my mouth. The online telephone listing held dozens of Lancasters, but not a single one with the first name Mark.

I had no way of getting in touch with Leanne, unless I contacted the oncology center at the hospital. That, however, I was reluctant to do, perhaps because of all the memories associated with calling that number. Then again, I didn't have any other option.

I decided to make the call before I lost my nerve.

The receptionist answered in a cool professionalsounding voice that I didn't recognize. I asked to speak to Leanne, giving my name only as Michael, hoping that would alert Leanne to the fact that I'd followed through on our discussion.

I didn't have to wait long. "This is Leanne," she said after picking up.

While I'd made a point of placing the call quickly, I'd neglected to consider what I wanted to say.

"I...didn't get your phone number," I blurted out. "Your home number," I added.

"Is this Michael Everett?"

"Yes. If there's a restriction on personal calls, I apologize."

"No...no, it's fine. I'm taking a late lunch."

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was past one. I had patients waiting. Any moment now, Linda would be knocking on the door to remind me.

"I thought Saturday went well," I said.

"Thanks, but I had lots of help."