Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(43)

"I do, but I'll have it later." I wasn't much of a breakfast eater and had set a croissant aside in my office. "That was Hannah's cousin."

"So she said."

I set the plate down on the countertop next to the microwave. "It was very kind of her, don't you think?"

Linda avoided eye contact.

"What?"

When I caught her gaze, she smiled knowingly. "Winter was being more than kind, you realize. She's interested in you."

"In me?" I asked, playing dumb. I planted my hand on my chest as if I considered the idea preposterous.

Linda rolled her eyes. "She couldn't have been more blatant if she'd tried--and she's trying."

I grinned. "Yeah, I guess she is."

"Are you going to ask her out?"

I hadn't gotten that far. "I don't know. What do you think?" I wanted a woman's take on the situation, a woman's perspective. Linda had worked for me from the time I'd joined the practice and knew me well. She'd given me unstinting support during Hannah's illness; as Ritchie said, she'd been a rock. She was closer to my mother's age, and while I spoke to my parents in Arizona every other week, dating again wasn't a topic I'd discuss with either of them.

"What do I think?" Linda murmured. "I'm not sure. Are you attracted to Winter?"

"I suppose I could be," I said, although I really wasn't convinced of it.

Linda's brows gathered in a frown. "That isn't exactly a ringing endorsement."

"I don't really know her well enough to have formed much of an attraction," I hedged.

"Okay," Linda said, "how do you feel about getting to know her?"

That question was easier to answer. "I wouldn't mind." And it was true. At the very least, we could resume a friendship of sorts, this time without Hannah as our go-between.

"Then do it," my nurse said. "The ball is definitely in your court. The next move is up to you."

I had the distinct feeling that if I didn't follow through after Winter had taken the initiative, I probably wouldn't hear from her again, family connection or not.

I enjoyed Leanne Lancaster's company and had been giving serious thought to calling her. The reason for my hesitation was simple--I was afraid. I wasn't ready for this and neither was she. Leanne felt as emotionally raw from her divorce as I was a year after losing Hannah.

The strongest link between us was pain, and that wasn't the most solid basis for any sort of lasting bond. However, I sensed that we might be able to help each other heal. There's comfort in shared misery. Together we might even find a way to move beyond the pain to a new form of happiness--or contentment at any rate.

Hannah had chosen three women and now I'd met all of them. They were as different from one another as any three women could be. As far as I could tell, Hannah had included Macy Roth for comic relief. Hardly ever had anyone, male or female, irritated me more. Hannah had suggested that Macy would make me laugh; however, she'd been wrong. If anything, Macy left me with the urge to pull out my hair by the roots.

For all my musing I hadn't come to a firm decision about Winter or Leanne. I'd hire Macy to paint the mural, but not out of any genuine desire to know her. I'd spent maybe ten minutes in her company and had no doubt whatsoever about how I felt. She was off the list. The mural was a good idea, though, and if the photographs were any indication, her work was acceptable. I'd give her the job. I'd completed my duty as far as Hannah was concerned. I'd met Macy and made my decision.

That left Winter and Leanne. It was only fair I get to know them both, then make my choice. Or not.

I found a semblance of peace in that nondecision. A calmness of spirit. I wasn't sure I'd ever experience real peace again, but this felt close. I was satisfied with what I'd determined to do.

The rest of the day passed smoothly and I'd just seen my last patient for the day, a six-year-old boy who'd managed to get a tiny toy car stuck up his nose. I showed him a couple of magic tricks I saved for occasions such as this, which helped him relax, and I was able to retrieve it from his sinus cavity.

Young Peter's awed reaction to my "magic" delighted me, and I was grinning as I walked out of the exam room.

Linda met me at the door. "This is your day for female visitors," she said, looking pleased with herself--as if she alone was responsible for bringing these women into my life.

I assumed it was Leanne Lancaster.

"She's brought a sketch for you."

Macy Roth.

I could've finished the week without another confrontation with that screwball and been happy.

"Is she waiting in my office?"

"She is."

I wanted to tell Linda to wipe that smirk off her face. Macy Roth was not a love interest, past, present or future.

When I entered my office I caught her leafing through a medical book. That annoyed me. It took a lot of nerve to remove a volume from my private library without asking permission first.

She glanced up and didn't reveal the slightest embarrassment.

I walked over, pulled the book out of her hands and pointedly replaced it on the shelf. "You brought a sketch?" I asked.

"Yes, I put it on your desk."

I was curious about the type of scene she might have envisioned for my wall. If she was as imaginative as I supposed, the idea would be clever and amusing.