As Peter headed to the third floor to answer his page, he couldn’t sweep Violet from his thoughts. At least not until he stopped at the nurses’ desk in Pediatric ICU, learned which patient needed him and went down the hall to Celeste Bowlan’s room. The six-year-old was crying and nothing the nurses tried could console her. For whatever reason, Peter’s presence always seemed to calm her. He strode toward her bed now, his heart going out to the little orphan with the straggly straight black hair, bangs and huge dark eyes.
“Hey there,” he said softly. “Nurse Carmelita told me you’re having a bad day.”
When Celeste turned her tearstained face to his, he saw her desolation and sorrow. Over a year ago she’d been staying with a babysitter when her parents, who had gone out for the evening, had been involved in a three-car pileup. They’d both died on impact.
Celeste had been entered into the system and placed with a foster family. But her foster family hadn’t cherished her as her parents had. Apparently her foster father had been a closet alcoholic who’d been driving drunk with Celeste in the car. They’d been in an accident, and Celeste’s back had been fractured. Along with spinal injuries, a lung had collapsed, and she’d experienced belly trauma. Peter was going to operate to fuse her spine, but he had to wait until she was more stable.
The social worker on Celeste’s case had told him she wouldn’t be going back to that foster family, but another hadn’t been found yet. Unable to walk and absolutely alone in the world, she was desolate with good reason. He tried to visit her as often as he could.
Pulling up a chair beside her bed, he brushed a few tears from her cheek. “Come on now. Let’s see if you can stop crying so we can talk.”
Sedated and on pain meds, Celeste was groggy. Slowly she complained, “You didn’t come in all day.”
He felt a stab of guilt, but he really hadn’t had a spare moment.
“I know, but I had patients to see. They need help just as you do. I was going to come in tonight, though. I promised, remember? You said you’d pick out two books and I was going to read both of them to you.”
“Will you still come tonight?”
He had to smile. If Celeste could get two visits out of this, she was going to do that.
“Sure, I’ll come back later.” He heard the med cart being pushed by a nurse rattle across the tile in the hall. “First I just have to grab something to eat and make some phone calls.”
Her face fell and he saw tears well up again.
“On the other hand, I could buy a sandwich from the vending machine and eat it here,” he said. “Then you can tell me what videos you watched today.”
The room had a VCR, and Peter could see from the stack on the table that the nurses had picked out quite a few for Celeste. “I’ll be back as soon as I find some food.”
“Promise?” she asked.
He held up his hand like a Boy Scout. “I promise.”
All at once his conversation with Violet came to mind, and he remembered what she’d told him about being burnt out. Maybe she would consider spending some time with Celeste. A woman with time on her hands might be just what the little girl needed. He’d broach that subject when they took Ryan for his tests or if she came to the fund-raiser Friday evening.
Insisting to himself again that he didn’t care if she came or not, he went on a search for supper.
Three
The hotel ballroom was sumptuously elegant. Guests sat on champagne-colored brocade chairs at tables covered with pale rose tablecloths. Candles at each table as well as the overhead crystal chandeliers sent sparkles of light dancing off reflective surfaces.
Violet was seated with Lily and Ryan, her brother Miles and some friends of his. Often Violet’s gaze went to Ryan. He was looking worn and tired tonight, and she was concerned because his headaches might be getting worse. She was glad Peter had been able to arrange the MRI for tomorrow morning. Ryan had told Lily he was taking a trip to Houston for business. After he’d given her the name of the hotel where they’d be staying, she’d accepted the explanation. But Violet could see the tension the lies were causing.
A chamber group had been playing softly throughout dinner and now they quieted at the bustling activity on the stage. A woman tapped on the microphone a few times, smiled at the audience and said, “I want to welcome everyone to the Estelle Clark Memorial Fund-Raiser.”
The woman at the mike looked about Violet’s age. There was something about her that seemed familiar. She was a tall, striking brunette who had a beautiful sense of fashion. Her emerald chiffon gown flowed around her body as if it had been designed especially for her.
Lily leaned close to Violet. “Stacey owns a boutique in the Galleria. I shop there a lot. Besides that, she’s—”
Stacey was speaking again and Lily’s words were drowned out. “As many of you know, it’s an honor for me to be here, happy to raise money to buy equipment for my mother’s memorial wing.”
Suddenly it all clicked into place for Violet, why she thought the woman looked familiar. She was Estelle Clark’s daughter and Peter’s sister. Although Violet had been preoccupied with other thoughts, she’d gotten a quick glimpse of her and another woman as they’d left Peter’s office. That must have been his other sister. At Peter’s house she’d seen a picture of them in the pine cupboard, but they’d been much younger and Violet hadn’t made the connection.
Stacey continued, “And now, so I won’t bore you, I’ll get to the highlight of this evening—our very eligible bachelors. Mr. Kinsdale, come on up on stage.”
A tall, blond man in his thirties climbed the steps and came to stand near the microphone. When he smiled, Stacey motioned him to walk to the end of the short runway.
“Let them get a gander at you. Mr. Kinsdale’s lucky benefactor will win a day of golf at his country club along with dinner overlooking the eighteenth hole. Let’s start the bidding at one hundred dollars.”
The bids came fast and furious. Women at two particular tables were doing much of the bidding.
“They’re nurses,” Lily explained with a smile. “I understand most of them have saved up all year for this donation.”
The bidding ended at two thousand dollars.
“You should bid,” Lily urged Violet as one gentleman after another walked to the edge of the runway.
“I’m not sure that’s the best way to get a date,” Violet joked. “I think I’d rather just write a check for the equipment—”
However, when she saw Peter Clark step up onto the stage, she stopped midsentence. He was a sight in a tuxedo. Although he looked totally debonair, he also looked uncomfortable.
Stacey Clark’s voice took on a teasing liveliness as she gave her brother a quick appraisal. “Here we go, ladies. I have the fun of putting my brother on display tonight. I had to talk long and hard to get him to do this so don’t disappoint me. I want this bid to go sky-high.”
Lowering her voice, she said conspiratorially into the microphone, “He has a big ego. We wouldn’t want it to get dented, would we? Come on, ladies. For a date at the Riverwalk with Dr. Peter Clark, let’s start this bidding at two hundred dollars.”
Peter’s stride was confident though a bit stiff as he walked to the end of the runway, and Violet suspected that he hated being put on display. He must truly love his sister to do this for her. Violet had to admire his attempt at a winning smile, the thumbs-up sign he gave the audience that told them he was doing this in the spirit of fun.
The nurses started the bidding again but this time Violet couldn’t keep quiet. Her hand shot up with the number she’d been assigned in case she wanted to bid, and she called out, “Five