“The flowers are for a nurse.”
Of course.
“Cece Baron.”
“Cece Baron?” Eden’s quiet voice went an octave higher.
He glanced at her curiously. “You know, Jeff’s wife.”
Eden did know. Cece was the nursing supervisor at Worthington House, and together with Jeff, Tyler General’s chief of staff, had seven-year-old twin girls.
“Don’t you think your boss is going to have something to say if his wife starts receiving bouquets of flowers from a secret admirer?”
“I hope so.”
She frowned. “You’re sure about this?”
“Definitely, after I saw Cece sitting in Jeff’s office today, waiting for him. She was looking at a family picture Jeff has in his office—I think it was taken at his younger sister Liza’s wedding. Cece was crying.”
Eden’s frown deepened.
“She put on a big smile when she saw me, but she knew I’d seen her. She’d said she was being silly. That between her work and Jeff’s schedule and the twins, she couldn’t expect things to be like they once were between her and her husband.”
“Like they once were?”
“Crazy, wild in love, passionate, head-over-heels, you know.” Brady spoke with a doctor’s detachment.
Eden didn’t know, but she nodded, anyway.
“Cece finally told me Jeff and she had made a lunch date, just the two of them. Some ‘together’ time to try and put a little magic back in the marriage. She’d waited forty-five minutes before she’d found out he’d left the hospital an hour ago to take some prospective donors to lunch to discuss building a new imaging facility. He’d forgotten about their date. ‘Imagine,’ she’d said. ‘Stood up by your own husband. How humiliating is that?’ But she made me promise not to tell him she was there. Said it’d only upset him, and she was already worried enough about his stress level.”
Eden’s features relaxed. “But she didn’t make you promise not to send an anonymous arrangement of flowers that she might assume was an apology from her husband?”
Brady smiled. “Let’s send one to Jeff, too. Maybe that’ll put a little mystique back into the marriage.” She heard an uncustomary excitement in his voice. He looked away, and if Eden didn’t know better, she would’ve sworn Tyler General’s most unflappable surgeon was suddenly self-conscious.
“It’s a lovely thought,” she assured him, hoping to ease his discomfort.
“Unsigned, of course.” His voice was even once again. He returned his gaze to her.
“Of course.” She wondered if he’d ever believe that his vulnerability didn’t make him weak, merely human.
“If the chief of staff knew one of his surgeons was playing Cupid, well, you can imagine how that would go over at the monthly staff meetings.”
“Of course.” She always agreed. It was part of the ritual. He walked around the shop, his briefcase gripped in his right hand and his steps brisk. His left hand tapped the curved sales counter, made a wrought-iron birdcage sway, asserted control over his surroundings.
“What about these?” He tapped on the cooler’s door, his nose inches from the glass. “These white things in the corner. What are they?”
“Calla lilies. Special order received today. They’re lovely, don’t you think?”
“They look exotic enough.”
“Oh, they are. Add nothing more than some camellia leaves or laurel, and you’ve got yourself a beautiful bouquet.” She studied the oversize blooms. “They’d also be stunning mixed with white French tulips and paperwhites.”
Brady nodded as if he knew what she was talking about. They both knew he had no idea.
“Put a big bow around the vase,” he said. It was a voice that suffered no fools, especially himself. He had a reputation as one of the best doctors around and also one of the most demanding. Eden suspected, however, he was hardest on himself.
“Always a big bow.”
“Good.” He smiled, satisfied.
Now that wasn’t so painful, was it? she thought as if she were the doctor and he, the patient.
“Charge it to my card as usual.” Business done, he turned to go. He was a busy man. Too busy, Eden thought. The first night he’d lingered, asking irrelevant questions as if needing to talk. One night she might coax him to again stay longer, sit with her, have a cup of tea, but not tonight. Tonight she wasn’t brave enough, and he wasn’t calm enough.
“Eden?” He’d turned, catching her studying him.
“Yes?” She dropped her gaze to the table, pretending to inspect the arrangement.
“Thank you.”
She looked at him.
“You’re…” He cleared his throat. “You’re swell.” He turned, went through the arch and was gone.
Swell? Eden stared at the doorway. She looked back at the splay of flowers before her on the table. She twisted a peony to the left for balance. “Swell?” She spoke to the flowers. The peony’s heavy head bobbed as if confirming.
She circled the arrangement, her practiced eye checking the line, color, rhythm.
“Is that what he told that sleek blonde he had dinner with at the Old Heigelburg a few weeks ago? And what about that big-chested, big-haired brunette spoon-feeding him Marge’s apple pie not two days later at the diner? I suppose she was swell, too?”
The flowers were silent as if knowing the answer as well as she did. With Brady’s movie-star looks, commanding presence and dark charm, it was no secret that the patients of Tyler General weren’t the only ones who sought out the doctor’s renowned skills. His success with single women was as well-known as his acclaimed professional reputation.
Yet Eden knew she was the only one with whom Brady had shared the secret of his anonymous good deeds. The thought made her smile. It also made her feel special. Not beautiful or exciting like the flowers he chose or the many women he dated. But she felt privileged to share a side of Brady Spencer that no one else knew or even suspected. No, it wasn’t love or passion, a far cry from that, but still it was something.
She misted the flowers and carried them to a draped pedestal in the front window. “Don’t worry, Dr. Spencer.” The room was quiet except for the hum of the lights and the gurgle of the fish tank. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
SWELL? Brady walked down the thin alley between the flower shop and the beauty salon. He was a highly trained, skilled surgeon. Why was he talking like some jug-eared kid with a cowlick? He reached the street and turned toward the condominium complex where he lived.
It was Eden, he decided. Eden with her innocence, her guileless smile, her wonderful world so removed from the reality he knew. He stepped into The Garden, and he was eleven again—insecure, confused, wanting—all beneath a facade of bravado and bluster.
He stopped to cross at the corner, already recognizing the restlessness that would have him prowling around his efficient, empty condo until early-morning hours. His apartment was close to the hospital, and he often walked the short distance no matter the weather. In fact, battling the winter cold and winds gave him as much satisfaction as strolling in the sun. This year, though, spring had come unusually early. The record-warm March had melted the snows and muddied the ground and brought out others not so brave or belligerent to walk the icy streets like Brady.
There