“How did you know I was in there?” she finally asked.
“I was driving by and I saw your legs go over the edge. I knew it was someone from the clinic because of the scrubs but I didn’t know which one of you. I hit the jackpot.”
“You can go ahead and put me down now.”
“I’d rather not,” he said. “Brings something to mind I’ve been thinking about for weeks. We should go out.”
“Out?” she asked.
“On a date.”
“Where does one go out in Timberlake? There’s no movie theater and you have the best restaurant in town.”
“Thank you,” he said, beaming. “I like to visit lots of different restaurants that are nothing like mine. I started my career working in a five-star restaurant.”
“And you want a date with me? Why?”
“Well, let’s see,” he said, rolling his eyes upward. “You can get out stains, you’re good with a needle, various things... Maybe we should get to know each other better. Isn’t that why people date?”
“I shouldn’t have rubbed your head,” she said. “I do that with patients who have a lot of fear or anxiety or look like they might puke. It relaxes them.”
“I’m not the only one?” he said. “Damn. I thought I was the only one.”
“You want to be the only one?”
He nodded and smiled slyly. “How about Sunday night? The pub is kind of frisky on Friday and Saturday night and I like to stay close. There’s this great gourmet restaurant in Aurora—only nine tables. The chef is a friend.”
“You can put me down,” she said. “I have to go through the trash.”
“This feels kind of nice,” he said. “Okay.” He let her legs drop down but, with an arm around her waist, continued to keep her close. “You said yes to Sunday night, right?”
“I didn’t yet. I haven’t had a date in a while.”
“Me, either,” he said. “Maybe we’ll get through it okay. I’m very polite. And helpful.”
“You did drag me out of a Dumpster, so I guess I owe you.”
“Dr. Culver,” Eleanor called, coming toward them, holding Leigh’s phone. “It was in one of the exam rooms.”
“That’s right!” she said. “I took it out to see who was calling me and put it on the counter rather than back in my pocket.” She smiled. “You’ll be happy to know I won yet another free vacation. That’s when I turned it off.”
“Then she fell in the Dumpster,” Rob said. “Headfirst.”
Eleanor gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Then she started to laugh.
“It’s okay,” Rob said. “I saw her go in and pulled her out.”
Then Rob and Eleanor both laughed—hard.
Leigh crossed her arms over her chest. “I could have been killed, you know. Someone could have thrown away a butcher knife and I could have landed on it. Then would you be laughing?”
Rob draped an arm across her shoulders. “Of course not, Dr. Culver. I also wouldn’t have asked you to go out to dinner with me, so I’m glad you weren’t mortally wounded.”
“Oh, that’s so romantic!” Eleanor said. “You plucked her right out of the garbage and asked her out! What a great story!”
“You’re fired!” Leigh said. “And gimme that phone!”
And with that she stomped toward the clinic. She heard them behind her.
“Very good move, Rob!” Eleanor said.
“I hope so,” he replied. “A little klutzy, isn’t she?” And they both enjoyed a good laugh.
Later that night, her cell phone rang and she saw it was Rob Shandon. She clicked on Accept, but said nothing.
“You gave me your number, remember?” he said.
“Are you done laughing at me?” she asked.
“I should have been laughing with you,” he said. “You climbed up on a broken chair and fell headfirst into a Dumpster. You’re not even bruised and you were pulled out by a handsome man. Okay, that part’s fiction—you were pulled out by me.”
“I’m not going to tell you you’re handsome.”
“Fair enough.” He chuckled. “Can I pick you up at six on Sunday night? I’d really love to take you to dinner.”
“All right. Is it dressy?”
“Nothing in Colorado is dressy. I’ll probably trade my jeans for pants but anything is acceptable. You’ll love this place. It’s unique, delicious, there’s a guy who plays classical guitar and there’s always some new creation from the kitchen. It has a cult following—foodies who know what they’re doing. So, I’ll see you at six on Sunday. I hope the rest of the week is less adventurous for you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Yours, too.”
Since Leigh spoke to Helen daily, she was well aware that the process of selling the house had been in full swing. The moment Leigh had said, “Let’s do it,” Helen had hired a team of three women her Realtor had recommended to help her sort through a lifetime of precious junk. She had over a dozen large plastic tubs filled with pictures, Leigh’s handmade Christmas ornaments from childhood, favorite books, special school papers, linens and dishes that had been handed down, everything she couldn’t part with. She also kept several boxes of her own books, mostly to give away. She was ready to lighten her load.
“I should come and help,” Leigh said.
“As much as I’d enjoy your company, I’m writing a check for this one. If you can think of anything you left here that you can’t live without, now’s the time to speak up. All those medical books are going to the library.”
“Everything I need is online now,” Leigh said. “Those books cost a fortune and will probably never be used again. Even medical records are all stored in the cloud now. We’re paperless. What about the furniture?”
“Is there anything you’re particularly attached to?” Helen asked.
“I brought the old oak dry sink and the two paintings I loved with me,” she said. “I bought a new bedroom set, guest room furniture and some living room pieces and just essential kitchen items for my rental. What are you going to do with the furniture?”
“Sell it or give it away,” Helen said. “It’s more than I need, and if I ever settle down again before the nursing home, I’ll buy what I need. Most of our furniture is deeply loved and quite old. If I decide to settle in San Diego or La Jolla this winter, I’ll rent something furnished. Our keepsakes are all packed up in waterproof tubs and I’ll have them shipped to be stored near you. If you move, it can also move. On lonely Saturday nights you can look at your old kindergarten drawings.”
“That sounds like wonderful fun,” Leigh said with a laugh.
“There’s something you can do, darling. Rent a storage unit—not a large one. Give me the address and I’ll have this stuff shipped. It’s all nicely labeled.”
Three weeks after the work of sorting and tossing had begun, the For Sale sign went up and in forty-eight hours there had been an offer. An excellent offer. Leigh had naturally assumed it would take at least a month to close and finish the moving process but she should have known better. With Helen in charge, delegating, the process moved like greased lightning.
It