The Promise (Thunder Point #5)(70)

“It is,” she affirmed.

“Belong to a friend of yours?”

“No,” she answered. “Belongs to my former boss. Dare I hope you have a reason to lock him up?”

“Not for having a car worth about a billion dollars,” Mac said with a chuckle. “You unhappy with your old boss?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I hate him a little, that’s all. He’s a shit.”

“Oh, well, that’ll do it,” Eric said, laughing.

“He hasn’t broken any laws that I’m aware of,” she said. “Maybe if you hang around the car, he’ll let you take it out for a spin. But then, no, he won’t. In fact, if he sees you touching it, he’ll want to press charges.”

“Well, now, I’m craving a cup of coffee,” Eric said, heading for the diner and out of harm’s way.

“I believe I’m due a cup, too,” Mac said, following.

There were no patients waiting yet, but Devon stood behind the counter, wide-eyed and looking a little anxious. “I brought you back a grilled cheese, like you asked,” she said a little nervously. “Here’s your change.”

“Thanks. Is it in the fridge?”

“I left it out so it wouldn’t get lardy.”

“Thanks. Where’s Scott?”

“In the back somewhere. You okay? That guy upset you?”

Peyton shrugged. “He brings back some sad memories, that’s all.” She went to the office. Even though Scott was not there, she occupied her small table, not his desk. It’s all so sad, she thought.

Scott walked in, a clipboard in his hand. “Well?” he said.

“He’s in a mess,” she said. “He’s in over his head. He can’t manage his office, his children, anything. His girlfriend is pregnant and he’s not going to marry her, but his daughter is pregnant and she’s fifteen and he decided he needs me. He said he just can’t do it without me.”

“So?” Scott asked.

She shook her head. “I can’t help him and wouldn’t if I could. But I wish things hadn’t gone the way they have.”

“Do you feel sorry for him or something?”

“I do. I tried to warn him. But I don’t get any pleasure from the way he thinks he needs me.”

Scott leaned a hip on the edge of his desk. “I might be having a little trouble understanding this....”

“I knew I did a good job in the practice. I didn’t think I was managing his kids very well, but apparently I was better at it than he is.”

“I’m not surprised,” Scott said. “Why would it surprise anyone to hear you’re good at everything? Most women would like hearing that, I think.”

She stood. “My conversation with Ted sounded like a quarterly review—he didn’t know how much he loved me until he had to take care of his own practice and his own kids.”

“He said that?” Scott asked. “He didn’t say that.”

“It sounded like it to me. Can I ask you something personal?”

“I think you’d better,” he said.

“If your wife had lived, do you think you’d still be crazy about her when you were in your sixties?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he said.

“And what did you love so much?”

“How much time have you got?” he asked. “She was funny. She could make me laugh even when I was mad. It pissed me off, have a good mad going and she acts like a simpleton, undercutting my bad mood when I was really getting into it. She was way too generous. It drove me crazy—she couldn’t pass a bum on the street without giving him a couple of bucks, even though we didn’t have a couple of bucks to spare. I’d say, ‘Serena, he’s just going to go to the bar with that,’ and she’d say, fine, maybe it’s the last cold beer he enjoys. She wouldn’t pick up her clothes for anything, she was a draper—over the chair, the exercycle, the dresser, even the toilet. Half the time she got dressed right out of the clothes dryer. She was disorganized and forgetful, except where long columns of numbers were concerned. With numbers, she wouldn’t even misplace a decimal point, but hell if she could remember what day it was. She sang off-key, she was gentle-natured unless she was ovulating, and then she was a bear. She fell asleep reading every single night. She left lights on all the time, hours after she left the room, like we had money to throw away on utility bills. She burned half of what she cooked, but she was amazing in the garden—the flowers worshipped her. She was clumsy, her feet were huge—size tens. She battled her weight, she was eventually going to be round and soft like her mother—she gained sixty pounds with Will. And when she smiled, people went into a trance. She cried at movies, and she couldn’t stand scary movies. I love scary movies and fall asleep during chick flicks. She could do the taxes, but she’d forget to file or pay them. Want anything else?”

“So...you didn’t adore her because she was a great physician’s assistant or excellent nanny?”

He frowned darkly. “She was a terrific CPA and was going to manage my private practice—we looked forward to being partners. And she didn’t live long enough to be a great mother.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I meant no disrespect.”