“Heck, no. You didn’t need a date to sign up, but you’re going to be the only one sitting by herself during that big dance.”
He’d apparently thought this through, but she wasn’t going to give up easily. If she did, he’d be encouraged in his quest to find her a husband. “Daddy, maybe I don’t even need to go. I have a lot to do before I start seeing patients at the clinic a week from Monday. And the donation is the important thing, right? The food isn’t usually that great at those hotel dinners, and I don’t care much about dancing.”
His momentary silence made her look up from the stack of folders. She couldn’t miss the spark of devilment in his blue eyes. “What?”
“Maryanne Perkins Bridges is chairin’ the shindig.”
Amy groaned as she buried her head behind her hands. Maryanne, who’d competed against Amy from the time they met at a junior high track meet, throughout high school and on into college. Maryanne, who’d beaten Amy by two points on the SAT and stolen the interest of Jason Price, the Wimberley High School quarterback. Of all the people from her past, Amy didn’t want her old nemesis to see her as the only single young female physician at a charity dinner dance. Or, worse yet, see her name on the list and know she didn’t have the nerve to show up in person.
Sinking into her chair, she hid from his watchful eyes behind the box of letters and articles. Darn it, he’d known exactly what to say to make her agree to a blind date.
“But come to think of it, Amy Jo, it wouldn’t kill you to go out with some nice young man.”
Okay, he was going to be especially persistent today, even though he’d already made his point. She needed to pull out her heavy-duty argument. Amy lifted one eyebrow and challenged, “Who would that be, Dad? A farmer, a feed store employee or the new guy pumping gas at the Kash ’n’ Karry out on the state highway? What happened to your advice that I should hold out for someone successful, charming and handsome?”
Dr. Ambrose Wheatley chuckled, then pushed himself up out of the chair. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got just the man in mind. The only one I know good enough to date my baby girl.”
“But just one date, Daddy. That’s all I’ll agree to.”
“You might change your mind after you meet him.”
“I don’t think so.”
“He’s a real charmer.”
“One date,” she stated again.
“Owns his own business, right here in town.”
Amy snorted.
“Everybody likes him.”
Amy shook her head and went back to unpacking. “He must be a saint,” she mumbled.
“I heard that,” he said as he grasped his cane and hobbled toward the door.
“Seriously, Dad, I don’t want you to get me a date for the dance.” Having her father fix her up just seemed too bizarre. Instead, maybe she should call one of her former colleagues in Fort Worth for a favor.
“Of course you do, Amy Jo. You can’t go to the most popular medical event in central Texas all by yourself. I know you’ve been livin’ in the big city for a while, but out here in God’s country, a pretty young lady needs a date for a nice dinner and dance.”
Ranger Springs might have changed a little since she’d moved away, but she still couldn’t think of one man who would fit the profile of an impressive date—the kind of man her father had just described. She hadn’t lived here in eleven years, but she had come back to visit, and as far as she knew, most of the “good ones” were already married or had moved away. And, like most small towns, Ranger Springs didn’t automatically embrace strangers. Who could her father have in mind?
“Please,” she whispered, “not one of my old high school classmates.” If they were still single around here at thirty, chances were pretty good they had a serious flaw. She could very well find herself attending the fund-raiser arm in arm with a guy whose idea of formal wear was a baby blue tuxedo and a ruffled white shirt.
Maybe her father wouldn’t be able to find her a date, despite his assurance he knew just the man. If she were alone, she’d be able to slip away from the fund-raiser without ever having to face Maryanne Perkins Bridges and her rich, successful surgeon husband.
She raised her head and stared at the wall of photos in her father’s office. Three generations he’d brought into the world, treated, cured and sometimes eulogized. All of this was hers—her legacy. Could she live up to the legend of Dr. Ambrose Wheatley? Would the citizens of Ranger Springs accept her, as a qualified doctor instead of the teenager who’d written “I love Duran Duran” on the cinder block wall of the high school gym?
Whatever the town thought, her father wanted her to come home to practice medicine. And also to find a nice man, settle down and raise some babies. Amy smiled. She never could say no to her daddy when he really had his heart set on something.
“Just no baby blue tuxedos,” she prayed aloud in the Saturday silence of her father’s office.
“I heard that,” her father said as he shut the door.
AMBROSE WHEATLEY concentrated on negotiating the sidewalk with his cane. He had to use the darned thing for at least four more weeks, until he could remove the walking cast. He’d been darned clumsy to fall down the back stairs. At least it was his left. He could still drive with his right foot.
If a fractured ankle was what it took to get Amy back to town, it was a small price to pay.
Oh, he knew she was afraid of coming into the practice. She thought she might take charge, be a bit too bossy like she’d been when she was a youngster. Sooner or later, she’d figure out he wanted her to take the bit between her teeth. He’d had a great career here in Ranger Springs, but it was time to slow down. Time to let a new generation grab the reins.
He pushed open the door of the Four Square Café just around lunchtime, the familiar tinkling of the bell music to his ears. Now that Amy was back, he’d have plenty of time to eat lunch here whenever he pleased. Not that the food was all that great, although it was darn good most days. What he really wanted to enjoy was the company.
One particular lady.
A smile broke out as he spotted his goal. Seated at their regular table, Thelma Rogers and Joyce Winston had just gotten their coffee when he walked up to the table.
“Ladies,” he greeted as he leaned on the cane. The darned walk from his car to the café had him aching.
“Ambrose!” Thelma looked up from her menu of today’s specials. “What a pleasant surprise.”
He glanced at Joyce, who patted her pretty strawberry blond hair and hardly gave him a second look. He smiled and settled into the chair opposite the beauty store owner and operator.
“I’ve got a job for you two,” he said in a near whisper.
That got their attention. “What kind of job?” the newspaper owner and editor asked.
“A little matchmakin’.” Ambrose smiled and leaned a bit closer. “I think my baby girl and our newest eligible bachelor would make quite a strikin’ pair, don’t you think?”
Joyce smiled and nudged Thelma’s side. “I think you’re right.”
GRAYSON PHILLIPS SENSED the tension building inside of him as he made the turn onto Deer Lick Road. His destination, the modest frame home next to Ranger Springs’s medical clinic, was in sight. He had nothing against the street, the house or even the woman inside, but still, his muscles tensed for battle and his breaths came faster, more shallow. He should have become accustomed to the feeling, but instead, he’d begun to resent the experience.