Jon shoved his free hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Aside from the babies he delivered, children were alien creatures to him. “I’m Doc...Jon.”
“Uncle DocJon?” Sam faced Autumn, waiting for her answer.
A blush spread across her face and Jon noticed a light spattering of freckles on her patrician nose that he hadn’t noticed before.
“No,” she said, “just Jon or Dr. Jon.” She looked at him for confirmation.
He nodded. He’d been taught to address adults by Mr. or Mrs. or Dr. So-and-So, in the case of his parents’ associates. But it wasn’t like he was going to be seeing the kid on a regular basis.
“Sam has also decided that adults should come in pairs—mommies and daddies and grandmas and grandpas and aunts and uncles.”
“Oh.” That sounded brilliant, but he didn’t know what else to say. He looked pointedly at the group of women across the room, who were now moving toward them with a stream of kids behind. He should have just gone to his office at the birthing center.
Autumn waved them on. “Everyone, this is Dr. Jonathan Hanlon, the new director at the birthing center.” She went around the circle introducing the women as her aunt, grandmother—not stepmother—and Anne, and identifying the various children, ending with, “These are my brothers, Ian and Alex, and my sister, Sophia.”
“Call me Jon, please.” He felt a tug on his pant leg.
The little girl Autumn had introduced as her sister stood beside him, hands on hips. “Are you Autumn’s new boyfriend?”
“Sophia,” Anne cautioned.
Autumn seemed to be studying the laces of her sneakers.
“What? I was just asking.” Sophia raised her big blue eyes to him. “Autumn’s old boyfriend had to move somewhere else and she was sad. She needs a new boyfriend.”
Jon coughed. He didn’t think that was a position he was going to step into. When he’d asked Autumn out at Samaritan, she’d shot him down with a terse, “No, thank you.”
“No, Sophia, he’s not my new boyfriend. He works at the birthing center with me. I told you that when I have a new boyfriend, you’ll be the first to know.”
“’Cause we’re sisters.”
“Yep, because we’re sisters.”
“Sorry about that,” Anne said.
Obviously, the Hazard family didn’t subscribe to the tenet of “children should be seen and not heard”—or better yet, not seen and not heard—that he’d been raised with.
“Did you get all moved in?” Close up, Anne looked a little older than he had originally thought, but not old enough to be Autumn’s mother.
Like many of his father’s colleagues, Autumn’s father apparently had gone with a younger wife the second time around and a second family. He attributed his parents’ adherence to their marriage vows to the fact that they rarely saw each other. That and their passion to out-accomplish each other. His father couldn’t be happy sharing his mother’s research breakthroughs. He had to offset them with a new surgical procedure—and vice versa. To avoid anything resembling his parents’ relationship, Jon had made a pact with himself never to date other doctors.
He shook off the memories and answered Anne’s question. “Yes. Thanks for alerting the movers that I was on my way.”
“But he has another problem,” Autumn said. “He’s locked himself out. Dad must have another key at the house.”
He glared at Autumn. She couldn’t have pulled Anne aside and asked?
“We did,” Anne said. “But Alex flushed it down the toilet.”
“Sophie dared me do it,” Alex said as if that explained the matter.
“You tried the realty office?” Anne asked.
“Yes, I left a message there and on the Realtor’s cell phone. I’m surprised I haven’t heard back.”
“He’s probably out showing a property. If you haven’t noticed yet, cell phone coverage can be very spotty here. My father-in-law should have a key. Mary?” She turned to her mother-in-law.
“He does,” Autumn’s grandmother said. “It’s on his key chain. He’ll be back anytime. He went to the hardware store and is going to stop and pick up pizza for everyone. You’re more than welcome to stay and have some with us.”
After spending the day helping the movers, he’d thought he’d take a bike ride, which he had, get some takeout and relax in front of the TV. He glanced around the noisy room. Relax alone.
Autumn locked his gaze with hers. “We may be a little much for Jon.” She motioned around the room. “The kids and all.”
He tensed. She didn’t think he could handle them. Jon imagined eating with the kids. Tomato sauce, spilled drinks, grubby fingers. He pasted a smile on his face. “Sounds good, thanks. While I wait, I think I’ll go check out the lake.” He wasn’t going to let a few kids intimidate him. If his father had taught him anything, it was that a Hanlon never showed weakness.
* * *
Autumn watched Jon stride across the room and out the door. The speed at which he left confirmed her feeling that he’d been uncomfortable with her large, noisy family. She’d been certain he’d go off in a corner to wait for Grandpa, get his key and go back to the duplex. She had no idea why he’d agreed to stay.
A minute later, the screen door to the lodge pushed back open. “Was that who I think it was heading down to the beach?” Jamie’s voice carried across the room. “You had a change of heart?”
Autumn felt her family members’ eyes on her.
“Go ahead down to the lake if you want, honey,” Grandma said. “We really are done.”
Just what she didn’t need. The other women in her family joining in with Sophie and Jamie to try to fix her up with Jon.
“Eli,” Autumn said to the tall man who’d followed Jamie in with her daughters beside him, “can’t you do something with her?”
“No, not a thing. Why, what’s she up to?”
“Matchmaking.”
Jamie shook her head. “I’m encouraging her to get to know the new director of the birthing center better. We passed him on our way in.”
Autumn’s aunt Jinx caught her attention and rolled her eyes. At least someone was on her side. Maybe she should head home and catch the alone time she’d planned on this morning.
“Pizza delivery,” Grandpa’s voice boomed from the lodge porch, taking care of that decision.
“I’ll open the door,” Ian said, racing across the room.
She smiled. Anne was strict about what she let the kids eat, so pizza was a real treat for Ian. That had to have been a change for Dad, who’d pretty much figured in pizza as one of the three major food groups when Autumn was growing up.
“Go let your friend know food is here,” Gram said.
Her friend. As if she was Ian’s age. No, she was being too sensitive. As she passed by Grandpa, the spicy smells of the pizzas made her stomach growl, reminding her that all she’d had to eat today was the coffee with Jon and a granola bar she’d grabbed from the camp kitchen midafternoon. That would explain a lot of her crankiness.
“I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder as the door swung closed behind her. “Save some of the veggie pizza for me.”
“You can have it all,” Ian said, and everyone laughed.
Autumn