Amy decided to level with him. “There’s another matter involved that calls for discretion, and I’m afraid the other doctors might be tempted to gossip. It concerns Heather.”
“What about her?”
She searched for a way to explain without revealing too much. “About the reason she took leave. It’s likely to come out when you visit the center.”
“What’s all the mystery?” Quent asked.
“It’s not my story to tell,” Amy said. “I’d just ask that you keep anything you learn confidential.”
“Okay. I promise not to blab any deep dark secrets.” After a moment’s thought, Quent added, “You realize we’re going to have to meet to prepare our joint program.”
Amy was about to say they could do it at the office, when she realized it wouldn’t be appropriate. Although her involvement with the young mothers was good public relations for Doctors Circle, it was a volunteer job and shouldn’t be done on her work time. “I suppose so.”
“Which brings us full circle,” Quent said cheerfully. “Seven o’clock at my place. I’ll buy the pizza.” He wrote the address on a scratch pad and handed it to her. “We’ll keep it strictly on the up and up. Unless, by mutual consent, we decide to lie down on the job.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“A guy can hope, can’t he?”
A figure appeared behind Quent in the doorway. Gray of complexion, with pouches that gave his eyes a perpetual squint, Dr. Dudley Fingger wore the frown of a disapproving bureaucrat. “There you are, Dr. Ladd. You were due back from lunch five minutes ago.”
“Really?” Quent looked at his watch, then made a show of putting it to his ear, frowning and shaking it.
Amy hid a smile. Dr. Fingger was a fussbudget whose plodding sternness never failed to stimulate Quent’s penchant for teasing.
Seniority had led to Dudley Fingger’s appointment one month ago as temporary director of the Well-Baby Clinic. His predecessor, Dr. Spencer Sorrell, had been a pompous bully whose departure had been cause for celebration.
“The gift shop carries an excellent selection of watches,” Dr. Fingger said solemnly.
“I’ll check it out. Should I go there now?” Quent asked with pretended earnestness.
“You have patients waiting!”
“Oh, I see,” Quent answered. “I guess I should go back to work then, huh?”
“Yes, you should,” said his supervisor. “Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Ravenna.”
“No problem.” Amy wondered if she should suggest that the strait-laced pediatrician address her as “Doctor,” just to amuse Quent, but decided against it.
Given his nature, Dr. Fingger would no doubt go around insisting that everyone call her Dr. Ravenna. Although she’d earned her Ph.D., she didn’t like to use the title in case people got the mistaken idea that she was a physician.
Quent started off, then returned to poke his head in the door. “Tonight.” With a wink, he scooted away.
Amy chuckled. What a scoundrel!
She sobered at the realization that she would be spending the evening alone with Quent. She’d have to rely on her strength of will to keep him at arm’s length.
It wasn’t going to be easy.
Chapter Four
Amy tried on two outfits while deciding what to wear to Quent’s house. If she’d had any more clothes with her, she would have tried those on, too.
“This must be some hot date,” said her cousin Kitty, who’d popped in to visit and was reclining atop the brightly colored comforter on the double bed. At seventeen, she had an outgoing nature and plenty of curiosity.
Unfortunately, there was no question of borrowing her clothes. Not only was she shorter than Amy, but she preferred skin-tight pants and tops.
“I’m just going to see my friend Quent.” Amy turned sideways to study her jeans and pink turtleneck in the full-length mirror. “We’ve got some work-related stuff to discuss.”
If she wanted to look her best, she was going to have to buy a mirror like this when she got back into her condo, she decided. Or maybe she should give away every mirror she owned and put on her makeup by feel. There was much to be said for giving your appearance as little thought as possible.
“I’ll bet he’s cute.” Kitty flipped back a long strand of brown hair.
“He is,” Amy agreed. “But he’s not for me.”
“Why not?”
“Too much of a playboy,” she said.
“If he’s in love with you, he’ll change,” advised her cousin with wisdom accumulated from years of watching TV shows.
“He’s not in love with me.” Amy shrugged off the pink turtleneck and returned to her first choice, a blue work shirt.
“He never will be, either, if you dress like a boy!” Kitty said. “No offense or anything.”
“Don’t you have homework to do?”
Her cousin heaved an exaggerated sigh, the kind that teenagers reserve for grown-ups. “I do my homework after dinner.”
“Your mom doesn’t make you do it first? Lucky you! My dad was really strict,” Amy said.
“Mom says parents have to pick their battles. As long as I keep my grades up and help out with the day-care kids during school break, she doesn’t nag me.”
That bit of motherly wisdom made sense to Amy. She stored it away to share with the Moms in Training.
After tucking in the work shirt, she decided she looked fine for tonight. The only thing she lacked was a coat.
“Do you have a jacket I could borrow?” She made a mental note to stop by her condo and pick up more clothes, now that she was allowed inside.
“Take whatever you want,” Kitty said. “It’s the least I can do after you loaned me your car last night.”
“That was an emergency.” An ailing neighbor had needed help picking up her medication. Since Aunt Mary was out, the teenager had volunteered to go.
“I like helping people,” Kitty said.
“You’ve matured a lot.” Amy regarded her young cousin affectionately. “You’ve been a good sport about my moving in like this. I hope I’m not getting in your way.”
“It’s fun having you here.” Kitty sat up on the bed. “When the little kids go home, it gets too quiet. I wish Dad would hurry back.”
“I know he misses you a lot, too.” Uncle Will, an engineer with a multinational company, was on long-term assignment overseas. It was his third stretch of being gone for months at a time but, Aunt Mary had explained, in another year he’d be able to take early retirement.
Amy hoped that, when she got married, she never had to be separated from her husband for more than a day or so. That was, assuming she ever found the right man.
Of course, women these days didn’t have to get married to lead fulfilling lives, she reminded herself. She had an interesting job and plenty of friends. That ought to be enough.
But it wasn’t.
Out of nowhere came an image of Quent in a tuxedo, standing in a church with love written on his face as she, Amy Ravenna, sailed toward