Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(41)

She needed variety.

"This doctor upset you, didn't he?"

Macy nodded. "He was a major disappointment." She'd expected more of the man Hannah had married. He must have some redeeming quality, although it hadn't been apparent in their initial meeting.

"Don't do it," Harvey advised.

That had been her first inclination, too. "You mean you think I shouldn't paint the mural?"

"You don't like him?"

"Well...I suspect it was more of a case of him not liking me."

Harvey shook his head. "That I can understand."

"Harvey!" She slapped his arm. He was feeling better, she could tell; still, she wasn't prepared to leave until she was sure he'd completely recovered. They'd happened before, these spells of his. She thought it might be his heart, but there was no real way of knowing unless Harvey underwent a physical exam. And Harvey, being Harvey, was dead set against stepping foot inside a medical office. No amount of wheedling would convince him to make an appointment.

"Tell the doctor you're not interested in the job," Harvey said again.

"I need the money."

"What for?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said playfully, raising her arms in a shrug. "It's just that I've grown accustomed to certain luxuries--like eating regular meals." She'd like to see Harvey placate three hungry cats without any cat food on hand. That was one lesson she'd learned the hard way. Her cats had not been fooled nor were they amused when she'd served them Cheerios for breakfast. Okay, fine, that had only happened once, but they'd made their disgust quite plain. At least they'd lapped up the milk.

"Speaking of meals," she began.

"Were we?"

"Yes, I was talking about how fond I am of little things like breakfast, lunch and dinner."

"Right," he muttered.

His agreeing with her was unusual enough to get her attention. "When's the last time you ate?"

He frowned as though deep in thought. "A while ago."

"Can you be more specific?"

"This morning."

That might explain why Harvey appeared to be lightheaded.

"I think," he added.

Well, no wonder, then. "Stay put," she ordered as she rose to her feet.

"You talking to me or that mangy mutt?"

Macy smiled. "Both of you. I'll be right back."

"Don't hurry on my account and don't be bringing me anything from your fridge. I remember the last time you decided I needed to eat." He cringed at the memory, and Macy rolled her eyes.

"You liked it," she told him.

"Until I learned I was eating health food." He nearly spat out the word.

"Tofu is excellent for you. And you didn't mind it when you thought it was chicken." She'd told that little white lie for his own good.

"I had indigestion for a week."

"I'll bring you canned soup," she promised. Her cupboards were looking like Mother Hubbard's, except for a case of tomato soup she'd picked up a month or so earlier. A bowl of that would be easy on Harvey's empty stomach. She'd heat some up and bring it to him.

"What's it got in it?"

"Tomatoes."

"How can I believe you?" He snorted. "You already tried to fool me once."

"You don't have to eat it if you don't like it," she told him.

"I don't like it."

"You haven't tasted it yet."

"I won't like it," he insisted.

"You sound like a two-year-old."

Macy refused to argue with him any further. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

"Take your time," Harvey said. "In fact, take all the time you want--like a year or two."

"A bad mood is merely a symptom of being hungry or tired."

"Maybe that was your doctor's problem. Maybe he was hungry or tired."

Macy pretended not to hear as she climbed over the fence and walked in her back door. She really should remember to lock it. Someone might actually break in one day. Not that a thief would ever find anything.

Heating up the soup took only a few minutes. She carried out a bowl using both hands, with a sleeve of soda crackers tucked under her arm. Harvey's eyes were closed and his hand rested on Sammy's head. He removed it when he heard her coming.

"I was napping," he complained. "You woke me up."

"Here."

"I said I don't want that."

"Harvey, don't make me spoon-feed you."

He seemed to weigh his options, then sat up straighter and reached for the bowl.

Macy waited until he'd taken his first spoonful. His eyed widened and he looked genuinely surprised. "This isn't bad."

"Told you so."

Macy returned to the kitchen and prepared a second bowl for herself. Her cats weren't pleased to see her go, especially so soon after she'd come home. They wove between her feet, purring loudly in protest.

"I'll be back in a little while," she said, bringing her own soup outside.

She stepped over the fence again and reclaimed her place on the lawn next to Harvey. Sammy gazed at her bowl of soup and seemed to decide she could have it all to herself. Macy ruffled his ears.