The Matchmaker's Gift(55)

“That client is actually the reason I came to see you.” Abby looked around the bakery and lowered her voice. “Have you heard of Evelyn Morgan?”

“Of course I have! Wait. Is that your client? She’s the one with the vision issues?”

“Shh, please,” Abby whispered. “It’s confidential, but yes. I spoke to Evelyn this morning and she told me her father had some sort of condition—retina … retino … pigmenta…”

“Retinitis pigmentosa?”

“Yes! That’s it. Apparently, her father had it, and Evelyn is convinced that she has it, too.”

Jessica put down her sandwich. “I’m not sure about that, actually. Retinitis pigmentosa usually presents in early childhood. There are some late-onset cases, but even then … Evelyn must be in her sixties now, right?”

“She’s sixty-three.”

“The disease almost always presents by the patient’s mid-forties. Also, women are usually only carriers. It’s very rare for them to have it.”

“Would you mind telling her all of this? She’s agreed to let you examine her.”

“Of course. When can she come to the office?”

“She doesn’t want anyone to find out she’s seeing you. Would you mind staying late one day for her?”

“For Evelyn Morgan? Of course! My nurse and receptionist leave by five, so if she comes at five thirty, I’ll be the only one there. I’m free tomorrow, if that fits with her schedule. Just call the office and let me know.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” Now that the awkwardness of discussing Evelyn was behind her, Abby realized how hungry she was. She bit enthusiastically into her sandwich, savoring the salty black olives. “This is so good.”

She and Jessica were finally beginning to enjoy their lunch when a disruption near the counter caught their attention. A man was in the middle of placing an order when his daughter—about four or five years old—began to cry. As the young girl’s sobs echoed off the tile floor, she wrapped her arms around her father’s knees and buried her face in the side of his leg. From where Abby sat, the girl was visible, but it was harder to get a good look at the man. Though Abby could only see him from behind, something about him seemed familiar.

“I’m so sorry, monsieur,” said a woman from behind the counter. “We have no more raspberry macarons.” She tried to get the little girl’s attention. “The lemon are delicious,” the woman said enticingly. “Or, maybe you like pistachio?”

But the little girl only pushed her face deeper into the folds of her father’s trousers. He patted her gently on the top of her head and rubbed her back in soothing circles.

When Abby glanced up from her sandwich, the ophthalmologist looked as if she might cry, too. Jessica nodded to the small white bag on the table. “I bought the last raspberry macarons,” she whispered. “I’m going to give them to her.”

Before Abby could open her mouth to respond, Jessica was already at the counter. She tapped the girl’s father on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” she said. “I think I can help.” Jessica bent down to the little girl and held the white bag out to her. “I have four raspberry macarons,” she said. “I think maybe you need them more than I do.”

The little girl pulled away from her father, wiped her tears, and widened her eyes.

“You are very kind,” Abby heard the stranger say. “But I couldn’t let you give up your dessert.” Abby turned her head to look, but she still couldn’t see the man’s face.

Jessica patted her hips and laughed. “I’m sure you would be doing me a favor.” She bent down again to speak with the girl. “Want to know why the raspberry macarons are my favorite?” she asked. “Don’t tell anyone, but it’s because they’re pink.”

The little girl smiled. “Pink is my favorite color!” she said. “Right, Papa?”

The man pointed to his daughter’s pink dress and pink hair ribbons before saying something Abby couldn’t quite hear. He held out his right arm to shake Jessica’s hand, and when their fingers touched … there it was.

Not again, Abby thought. It was as if a miniature lightbulb had been tucked between their palms and someone had suddenly flipped the switch. An iridescent glow lit their hands from within and flashed, for a moment, before the handshake ended.

The ophthalmologist and the stranger chatted a minute longer before he caught the attention of one of the women behind the counter. Soon, she handed him a paper bag and he, in turn, passed it to Jessica. When the stranger turned around to lead his daughter out of the store, Abby was finally able to get a glimpse of his face.

She almost choked on her baguette.

Jessica returned to the table then, with a thoroughly satisfied grin on her face. “What an adorable little girl!” she said. “She was so excited for those macarons!” Jessica held up a fresh new paper bag and shook it triumphantly. “Her father was so sweet—he insisted I take these in exchange. He says this bakery makes the best chocolate croissants in the city.”

Abby remembered her first meeting with Victor étoile and the box of croissants he’d brought to the conference room. Frantically, she rubbed her temples. “They do,” she said miserably. “Their croissants are delicious.”