A Temp Job
By early October, the Briggs household had settled into a completely different routine. Tracy worked full-time at the Snip ’N’ Save, except on Thursdays when she took Lucas for his therapy. More often than not, they went to lunch with Gabriel afterward. Although not a word was mentioned, you could almost see something special in the way they looked at one another. Dr. Brandon just happened to schedule Lucas’s therapy sessions for 10:15, which meant they’d finish up in time for lunch, and coincidentally Thelma, the waitress at the café, began asking Gabriel if they’d like a dessert to share.
Dominic called a number of times. In September it was to ask how Lucas’s surgery had gone and if Tracy was ready to come back to Philadelphia.
“I told you I’m not coming back,” she said. “Not ever, so you can stop asking.”
Another call came later in the month. He said if she wasn’t coming back, he was giving up the apartment and would be staying in a room above the bar.
“If you come to your senses and decide to return home where you belong, we can get another place,” he said, “but I’m tired of paying for something I don’t use.”
Tracy assured him she’d already come to her senses and was precisely where she belonged. When he said, “Suit yourself,” and hung up, she thought that would be the last of him, but it wasn’t. Despite her rejection, he continued to call, and each time he warned that this would be his last offer to take her back.
“Good,” she inevitably replied, and hung up.
That fall everyone in the Briggs household seemed happier. For the first time in well over twenty years Lila had a toddler to fuss over, and she was cooking up a storm. Following Dr. Brandon’s instructions, she talked to Lucas all day long, giving a specific word to each task as she performed it.
“See?” she’d say. “Grammy is baking cookies. Lucas likes cookies.”
A dozen or more times, Tracy told her, “Mama, if you don’t quit fussing over Lucas like that, you are gonna spoil him silly.”
More often than not, Lila gave that same so-what shrug Tracy had once given her and continued on with whatever she was doing.
“Grandmas are supposed to spoil their grandbabies,” she’d say, and laugh.
In addition to her trips to Barrington, Tracy found that she actually enjoyed doing ad layouts for the Snip ’N’ Save. She’d somehow developed quite a flair for design, and at times Meghan would find her changing a perfectly acceptable ad just to make the border a bit wider or add some small flourish.
“Well, it does look better,” Meghan would have to admit, then she’d scurry off to a client meeting or head out with a picnic lunch for Tom.
No longer burdened by the day-to-day work of the Snip ’N’ Save, Meghan and Sox began visiting the clinic more often. Some weeks she’d stop by as often as every other day, and once she got there she was in no hurry to leave. While Tom was with patients, she’d check the water bowls, walk the dogs, and fill the treat jars with dog biscuits or kitty treats. If she ran out of things to do, she’d ask if Emily needed a hand mailing out appointment cards or tidying up the reception room.
In the middle of November when the leaves were starting to turn, Emily came down with the flu. She called in Monday morning sounding like a foghorn.
“I’m too sick to even get out of bed,” she said through a moan. “You’ll have to get someone to fill in this week.”
“There isn’t anyone,” Tom said. “It’s November, and the temps are all working at the department stores.”
“Ask Meghan.” Emily sneezed into the phone, then hung up.
Tom mulled it over for several minutes, stuck on the thought that visiting for a few hours was quite different from spending the entire day behind a desk. Then he hit on the idea of not asking her to do it but simply asking if she knew anyone who might be willing to fill the spot for a week.
He dialed the office number, and she answered.
“Good morning, this is the Snip ’N’ Save,” she said. “How may I help you?”
“Meghan?”
“Oh, hi, Tom. I thought it was a customer call, so I used my Snip ’N’ Save voice.”
“Oh, you’re working,” he said, sounding disappointed.
“Not right at the minute,” she replied. “I have time to talk. What’s up?”
The way he’d had the speech all planned out suddenly felt wrong. It seemed conniving, and he cared too much for Meghan to go through with it.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later. I’ve got to make a few phone calls.”
She heard the hesitation in his voice.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, but by then he’d hung up. When she called back, the line was busy.
After fifteen minutes of getting a busy signal, an edgy feeling began to settle in Meghan’s stomach, and she decided to go to the clinic and check on Tom. She whistled for Sox, then jumped in the car and took off. She made it in eight minutes, which was a near record.
The reception room was empty, other than the perturbed-looking Francine Birnbaum and her schnauzer.
“Where’s Emily?” Meghan asked.
Francine scrunched her nose in a look of annoyance.
“You’re asking me?” she snipped. “We had a nine-fifteen appointment. It is now twenty-five past, and no one has even checked in Bailey.”
Meghan slid her tote bag under Emily’s desk as Sox bolted toward the back office.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Give me a minute, and I’ll try to get Dr. Whitely for you.”
With her heart now thumping hard against her chest, she turned and headed toward the back of the clinic. Something was wrong, drastically wrong. Picturing Tom in the operating room with the victim of some terrible accident, she almost flew by his office and would have kept going had she not heard the sound of his voice.
“I’ll pay time and a half,” he pleaded.
“Tom?” Meghan stuck her head through the doorway. “Mrs. Birnbaum’s in the reception room, and Emily’s not there.”
He covered the phone with his hand. “Emily’s out sick. Would you tell Mrs. Birnbaum I’ll be with her in a few minutes?”
“Sure, but—”
He turned back to the phone. “Friday is no good. I need someone all week.”
“What are you doing?” Meghan whispered.
“Yes, I’ll hold.” He covered the phone again. “Trying to get a temp to sub for Emily.”
She took the phone from his hand and said, “Go see Mrs. Birnbaum; I’ll take care of this.”
When the Reliable Temps representative came back on the line, Meghan said, “The position has been filled. We won’t be needing anyone after all.”
She then made a quick phone call to Tracy saying she’d be helping Tom for the rest of the week, and settled in behind Emily’s desk feeling perfectly at home.
Meghan had been around the clinic long enough to know what to do. She powered on the computer and checked the appointment log, then moved the credit card reader to the counter where it belonged. Without skipping a beat, she became Emily. Not an Emily who just booked appointments and validated credit cards, she turned into an Emily who came from behind the desk to greet the animals.
The hours flew by, and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, the day was gone. Tom insisted he wanted to pay her, but Meghan flatly refused.
“You can, however, take me out to dinner,” she said.
Once the office was closed and the clinic’s patients all cared for, she clicked the leash onto Sox’s collar and the three of them went back to the Garden and sat at an outside table. After the crimson glow of sunset disappeared and the candles on the tables were lit, a crisp breeze came up. Seeing Meghan shiver, Tom draped his jacket over her shoulders and scooted close enough to press his thigh against hers.
Meghan turned and let her eyes linger on his. “It was a good day.”
“Very,” he replied.
They ordered two cappuccinos and sat looking up at the stars for yet another hour. Sitting with his arm curled around her shoulders, Tom never noticed the chill, even though the temperature had plummeted and he was without a jacket.
It was close to midnight when he finally dropped her off at the house. Rather than going back for her car, he suggested he’d pick her up on the way in the next morning.
“That sounds good,” she answered dreamily.
On Tuesday morning, Henry Mosley came in with Chelsea, a collie with a gray muzzle who appeared almost as old as her octogenarian owner. When Meghan noticed the dog limping, she came from behind the counter and squatted down to take a look at the paw.
She inhaled sharply. “Good grief, there’s something stuck in there.” Before you could bat an eyelash, she’d reached in and plucked out a rusty nail.
“Well, if that ain’t something,” Henry said. “I looked and didn’t see a thing.”
“It was stuck between the pads,” Meghan explained. “She should be okay, but I think you need to clean her paw with peroxide and put some Neosporin on it.” She thought a moment, then added, “It would help if you had something to cover that paw and keep it clean. A baby sock maybe.”
“Baby sock? Where am I gonna get such a thing?”
“Let’s see if I can get one for you.” She lifted the phone and punched in her home number. When her mama answered, Meghan asked if Lila could come over with one of Lucas’s baby socks.
In the middle of watching her TV show and only half listening, Lila replied, “Lucas is napping, and I thought Sox was with you.”
“Sox is with me, but what I need is a baby sock.” She explained the situation, and Lila agreed to come.
“My show’s over in five minutes. Can he wait?”
Meghan covered the mouthpiece and turned to Henry. “Mama can be here in twenty minutes. Can you wait?”
He bobbed his head and settled back into the chair.
Henry was still waiting when Mildred Washington emerged from the back office with her cat carrier and stepped to the desk. As Meghan was processing Mildred’s payment, Tom came out. He greeted Henry, then squatted to pet the dog.
“So what’s wrong with Chelsea today?” he asked.
“Nothing now,” Henry replied. “Your nurse took care of it.”
“My nurse?”
Henry waggled a finger toward Meghan. “Pulled a nail out of Chelsea’s paw, good as you could’ve done. I don’t need peroxide or Neosporin; I’ve got those at home. I’m just waiting for the sock.”
“Sock?”
Henry nodded. “Her mama’s bringing it over.” He went on to say using a baby sock was the cleverest thing he’d ever heard of. “It beats trying to bandage a paw, that’s for certain.”
After Lila had come and gone and only Meghan was left in the reception room, Tom came up behind her and kissed the back of her neck.
“So how’s my favorite nurse?” he teased.
She swiveled the chair and came face-to-face with him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump in ahead of you. I saw the nail in Chelsea’s paw, and I just—”
He laughed. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He touched his fingers to her chin, tilted her face up toward his, and then added, “Other than how you’ve missed your calling.”
Before she could answer, he covered her mouth with his. He would have lingered there and let the moment lead to something more were it not for the sound of a car door slamming.
With the kiss still warm on her lips, she whispered, “I think your three o’clock is here.”
“Later, then,” he said, and gave her a quick peck before he turned away.
For days Tom had been noticing Meghan’s way with animals. Not only Sox but just about every animal that came into the office. Twice before he’d said something—not an out-and-out suggestion, simply a hint at one—but she’d not picked up on it.
Tonight, he thought. Tonight he was having dinner at the Briggs house, but afterward he and Meghan would most likely sit on the front porch or take a stroll down to the lake, and that’s when he would ask her. Now that Lucas was doing so well and Tracy content to stay put, there was no reason for her not to consider it.