The Promise (Thunder Point #5)(59)

That gave her great satisfaction. She tried not to smile.

“Please,” he said.

“I’m working, Ted. I’m very busy. And you made it clear you didn’t need me. You didn’t even need my help in the practice. Obviously you needed someone else. Good luck with that.”

“Just tell me what it would take. Name a price.”

“There is no amount of money in the world that would get me to Portland! You used me and then cut me loose. You cheated on me, and you didn’t even have the decency to apologize for it!”

“What did you expect, Peyton? Really? I wasn’t being taken care of at home, for God’s sake. All we did was fight, and when I crawled into bed, I got your cold back! What did you really think that would do for our relationship?”

Scott walked into the office and put a cup of coffee on her desk.

“You ungrateful son of a bitch!” she hissed into the phone. “Don’t call me again. You made your bed. Good luck.”

She clicked off and looked up at Scott. “Ted.”

“Glad to hear that was Ted,” he said. “Otherwise we were going to have to start working on our patient communication skills.”

The phone buzzed again, and she declined the call. “How do you block calls?”

“I don’t know, Peyton. I’ve never blocked a call,” he said.

“Devon!” she called. The young woman showed up in the office doorway, a stunned look on her face. She had never been summoned so rudely. Peyton held up her phone. “Do you know how to block calls on one of these?” Devon shook her head. “My ex is calling. He’s going to keep calling. He’s used to getting whatever he wants. I don’t want to change my number—I have a hundred relatives. I want to keep him out. Can you find out how to block calls?”

Devon’s features relaxed. “I think I know someone who will know. I’ll get right on it. Want me to answer your phone in the meantime?”

“Oh, that would be nice,” she said, holding it toward Devon.

“Or I could,” Scott offered.

“No, not you. I don’t want him to think I need a man to stand up to him. I can stand up to him just fine. I just want to block him. I want to block his office numbers and his cell number.”

“What kind of trouble is he in?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t care. But I got the impression the new woman can’t handle the work at the office and can’t deal with the kids at home. I’d put money on it.” She shook her head. “I thought, of all things, he was smart. But he couldn’t figure out what the rest of us could see coming ten miles away.”

An hour later, after thirty missed calls, the numbers were blocked. It turned out that Devon’s best friend, Laine, had been an FBI Agent—she knew exactly what to do.

In that hour, Peyton did a little thinking. It was nearly lunchtime when she pulled Scott aside. “Listen, is there any chance you can get some time away? If Devon can clear the schedule, maybe we could drive up to Vancouver, pick up the kids and take them to the farm for the weekend.”

“You sure? Because if you feel you should go to Portland—”

“I’m not going to Portland,” she said vehemently.

“Think of closure, Peyton. Think of closing doors before you try to open new ones.”

She ignored him. “It’s crazy busy at the farm. We’d be crowded together. It might mean sleeping bags or someone’s camper shell. They’re picking pears—it’s that time of year. Pears don’t ripen on the tree like apples, they have to be picked before a freeze. There will be Lacoumettes all over the place. The kitchen will be full of dark-haired women cooking for an army, speaking strange languages, everything from French to Spanish to Basque to Ameri-Basque. And all over the farm—trucks, people, equipment everywhere. End of day, the wine is busted out, sometimes there’s a big fire and dancing. It can be a lot of fun. The new lambs aren’t too big, there’s a Shetland pony, barn dogs and cats, chickens to chase. It’s a circus. But it’s my circus, and I think the kids might like it. It might take their minds off saying goodbye to Gabby.”

He smiled. “Sounds like fun.”

“We could drive up to Vancouver on Thursday. Back south to the farm on Friday. We could spend a couple of days and be back to work on Monday morning. If you can close the clinic and get coverage.”

“Did Ted ever go to the farm? Ted and his kids?”

She nodded. “They were appalled. They thought we lived like dust-bowl peasants because our clothes got dirty and there was manure used as fertilizer all over. And everyone didn’t have their own bathroom with whirlpool tub. There’s not one walk-in closet on the property. There’s only one TV. And it’s Paco’s, my father’s. They were shocked.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “The kids will be in heaven.”

“Sometimes my mother serves squid,” she said by way of warning.

“I tell Will and Jenny that everything is chicken. Let me make a couple of calls. We can move our appointments and direct our emergencies to Dr. Stewart’s urgent care. So, Thursday?”

“Yes. Let’s spend a little time with the grandmothers. Dinner Thursday night and breakfast in the morning? Then we can hit the farm Friday afternoon. And really, if it’s too much, we can pack up and head back here. I know this is a little spontaneous,” she said.