Perfectly Reasonable (14 page)

Chapter 30

The good news was the insurance was going to cover the cost of the repair, minus the five hundred dollar deductible.

The bad news was they were going to take two weeks to do it.

The best news was that Nancy, travel agent extraordinaire, found a holiday in the Caribbean that fit Margo’s meager budget.

Mikaela had managed to arrange time off, and one of the bodyguards from her father’s company had been available to go with them. Being the daughter of a very public billionaire had its drawbacks. Traveling with a bodyguard in tow was one of them.

Two days into the holiday, Margo’s stomach had finally stopped burning with pain. Her skin had gone from pasty white to faint brown, even with the judicious use of SPF 50.

Margo leaned back in the lounger floating in the pool and raised her face to the sun, soaking in the warmth. Coconut oil sunscreen had her smelling like the tropical drink she had ordered. It arrived with a little umbrella and fit neatly into the drink holder on the arm of the lounger. She dipped her toes in the warm water of the pool and lazily paddled closer to Mikaela.

“This was one of your better ideas,” Mikaela said. Her shoulder-length brown hair was slicked back from a dip in the pool. Her bronze and turquoise bikini had dried as she floated on a matching lounger.

Margo heard a child’s laughter and glanced over at a young family. They were splashing in the shallowest of the three spacious circular pools
that separated the patio at the back of the hotel from a sandy beach. Stunningly artful placement of granite at one end of the pool created the backdrop for a babbling waterfall. Mikaela’s bodyguard sat at a table close by, constantly scanning the horizon, but other than the young family and them, it was quiet.

“You think? Better than dying our hair purple for a school spirit day?”

Mikaela snorted. “That was a good idea, but lacked in the planning. It would have been handy to know that purple dye lasts approximately ten days.”

“Excellent execution. Poor follow through.”

“Made for interesting prom pictures,” Mikaela said with a laugh and sipped her drink.

“We should probably grab some lunch and take a break from the mid-day sun,” Margo suggested.

Mikaela nodded. “Yeah. Even in the shade, it’s getting hot. What do you want to do this afternoon?”

“Rent motorcycles?” Margo said tongue-in-cheek.

They laughed together. “Ride an organ donor-cycle? There’s an activity that’s not going to happen,” Mikaela said.

“I’m happy to sit on the beach under the shade of a hut and read. I want to shut my brain off, not make any decisions, and not worry.”

Mikaela looked at her. “What are you worrying about?”

Margo leaned her head back. “What am I not worrying about?” She picked up her drink and twisted the umbrella. “The past, the present, the future.”

“When do you have to make a decision about medicine?”

“I have to let them know by April third. They’ll confirm by May second.” She sipped her drink.

“Have you thought any more about what you’re going to do?”

Margo smiled sadly. “Constantly, but not very constructively. I don’t know what to do. I think I suck as a physician. I’m not happy doing it. And yet, I love it. I love listening to patients, trying to solve each mini-mystery they present with. But then I worry I suck at it and spend all my time ruminating. Did I say the right thing, make things worse instead of better?”

“You were a student,” Mikaela protested.

“A clerk.”

“A clerk is still a student. You’re not expected to know what to say or do. Half the time, the supervisors are too busy to teach. You feel like you’re always in the way, because you are. Let’s face it, you don’t really know enough to be helpful, and it’s not worth their time to teach someone who’s only rotating through and may never do that specialty again.”

Margo took a drink to swallow the lump in her throat.

“If you love it, you should give it another chance. If you hated it, that would be a different story,” Mikaela said gently.

“I hate the guilt.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty.”

“I told that patient he would live. And he died.”

“You didn’t kill him.”

“I didn’t expect him to die.”

“No one did. The surgeon didn’t. The anesthesiologist didn’t. The patient had a bad disease. The team did what they could as fast as they could to save him, but nature had other plans.”

“Nature sucks.”

Mikaela smiled sympathetically. “Sometimes it does.” She swirled her hand in the water. “Don’t over think it.”

Margo snorted. “Should add that to my mantra. First, do no harm. Second, don’t over think it.”

Mikaela shielded her eyes against the sun. “I ran into Daniel the other day.”

Margo closed her eyes and leaned back. “How’s he doing?” She hadn’t spoken to him since the snowboarding trip.

“He looked tired, but it was the end of a twelve-hour day in surgery. He mentioned he’s engaged.”

Margo
opened her eyes with a startled glance. “What?”

Mikaela shrugged. “Yeah. He had a goofy grin on his face when he talked about his fiancée. I think they plan on a spring wedding.”

“They’re not going to wait until he’s done?”

“Apparently not. Although, I did hear a rumor that she might be pregnant.”

“Really? After all those lectures about birth control? And a stint in the delivery suite?”

Mikaela laughed. “You’d think that would turn him off.” She sobered. “I know you were sweet on him at one point, and I wasn’t sure if you’d heard about the engagement.”

“No, I hadn’t. But it’s okay. I’ve given my heart to someone else to break.” She rested her head back against the chair and squinted in the sun, despite her sunglasses.

“Trace Bennett?” Mikaela asked.

“The one and only. I completely froze when one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet at Breaking Bread developed chest pain. I couldn’t talk to him. All I thought about was Trace’s grandfather and the effect of careless words. I didn’t want to harm poor Ottie because he meant so much to me, and to Trace. So I walked away. Now Trace thinks I’m a selfish, two-faced bimbo who’s carelessly throwing away a medical degree.” She blinked back tears.

“He doesn’t know you,” Mikaela said, reaching over and squeezing her hand.

Margo looked off into the distance. “Maybe that is who I am.”

“No.” Mikaela shook her head emphatically. “It’s not. You’re a dedicated and compassionate doctor. You have too much heart, not too little. That was just shock. Made more difficult because you cared. Next time will be easier.”

“If there is a next time.” Margo gave a large sigh. “Painting is so much easier.”

“There will be a next time. You wouldn’t be content with easy for long.”

A child’s high-pitched squeal of laughter interrupted them. They looked over to watch the dad lift his daughter high in the air and swing her around. When he lowered her into the water, she splashed and kicked and raised her hands for more.

Mikaela looked over at the bar set in the edge of the pool. “Do you think they’d serve food to the middle of the pool?”

Margo looked over at the two bartenders, both male, both young. “Take your top off. That’ll get us some service.”

“Margo,” said Mikaela, with a laugh. “That’s terrible.”

“What can I say? I do better with easy.”

Chapter 31

Margo put her roller brush to the wall and thought about how much the blue-green color reminded her of the ocean. Which she had enjoyed for far too short a time.

She was back at work, last week’s warmth and sunshine a distant memory. They had flown back on Saturday in Mikaela’s father’s private jet and touched down an hour before an ice storm hit. Most of the power in the city had been out all day Sunday, but by late evening, it had been restored.

Margo spoke briefly to Chloe and suggested she carry on with the work at the hotel. They were right on schedule, so Margo decided to squeeze in a residential job that she had promised to do a while back. It was a Bennett home she had painted the previous fall, but after living with builder’s beige for a few months, the customer requested an upgrade. The room was spacious, but manageable, and this particular customer hadn’t filled it with furniture or gone crazy with nail holes, so the preparation took no time at all.

She had started the day early and dropped by the car rental agency to pick up a car for the week. A little red Spark.

They had offered her a yellow hatchback. A. Yellow. Hatchback. Double whammy. She had visions of herself weaving down the road, changing lanes willy-nilly, and landing in a parking lot straddling two spots. Her appalled look had them scrambling for more paperwork. The Spark was a little smaller, a little cheaper to rent, and had snow tires. Much better.

She had crept along the ice-covered streets and kept a safe distance from the car ahead of her. One ice accident was enough.

By early afternoon, clouds rolled in, and the gloomy skies out the window cast a gray tinge to the blue-green.

Margo picked up a brush to edge the top and bottom of the wall and thought about her choices.

Really, if she didn’t go back and do a residency this year, she could forget about practicing medicine. She’d always have her medical degree. They couldn’t take that away from her. But no residency, no license. Without a license, she couldn’t practice. Was that how she wanted to leave it?

That was the million-dollar question.

What did she want?

She wiped a bit of blue-green paint off the baseboard and flicked on the overhead light. It was getting dark enough to need it.

She couldn’t see herself not painting. The creativity, the variety, the satisfaction of a job well done, and the customer’s reaction – she loved it all. Rolling paint on the wall was relaxing, and every time new color went on the wall, she imagined the possibilities, the inspiration from a fresh change. It was such a rush. She’d always need that.

But was it worthwhile?
Life is about using your skills to help others.
Her mother’s voice echoed in her head.

Color made people feel better. It was worthwhile.

But she could do even more with medicine.

She sighed as she rolled paint on the wall.

It was annoying that the little medicine voice was always louder than the soothing painting voice.

She had the degree. One that others strived for, as Trace pointed out. It was within her reach to use it. If only.

If only what? If she wasn’t such a coward? If she wasn’t afraid of making a mistake?

She stepped back and bumped into the paint tray, splashing paint on the floor. Grimacing, she grabbed a rag and wiped it up.

Mistakes were going to happen. She needed to deal with it. Grow some resilience and move on.

Or decide she was going to paint.

In a way she envied Trace. He knew what he wanted, and he went after it. She was still stalking his social media sites and couldn’t believe what he posted that morning.

He was organizing a ball hockey tournament for Breaking Bread. Hattie must be thrilled. She was beyond grateful whenever a donation came their way. The tournament was scheduled for mid-April so Trace had a month to put it together. It was local, it was fun, and they could host it in a parking lot so their expenses would be minimal. It was a brilliant idea for a hockey town and a fundraiser for an excellent cause.

Would he let her help out? Talk to her? Give her heart back?

Margo rubbed her chest as heaviness settled in. She missed him.

Exasperated with herself, she rummaged through her tote bag and pulled out her cell phone. If she was about to do another go-round of ruminations, she wanted music to drown out the noise.

Chapter 32

Margo looked at the truck grill filling her rear-view mirror. Every few seconds, it inched closer. Not sure what he hoped to achieve. She was stuck at a red light. His impatient nudging wasn’t going to make it change any faster. He’d better not bump her little red Spark with his antics. The last thing she wanted was to have to rent a yellow hatchback.

Finally the light changed to green, and Margo pulled away. It wasn’t much farther to Breaking Bread, and she was relieved to pull in, put the car in park, and lock it up.

Hattie turned from the oven with a huge smile when Margo entered. If there was one constant Margo needed, it was Hattie’s love. It radiated off Hattie like the sun, and Margo needed it like the air she breathed.

“Hello, honey. You look sun-kissed. Pretty miserable storm we had the other day. Did you make it home from your holiday before it hit?”

“We did, Hattie. I was all tucked inside before the ice came and the power went off. How did you make out here?”

“We were all cleaned up on Saturday before it started. Sunday we had sandwiches by candlelight. Pat’s bakery didn’t have the sales they expected and donated their bread to us. It was nice and fresh.”

“Oh, how generous of them.”

“Yes, everyone enjoyed it. Ate every last loaf,” Hattie said with a laugh. She nodded to the dining room. “Ottie’s back, and your boyfriend is with him.”

“He’s not really my boyfriend, Hattie, but I’m so happy to hear Ottie’s back. That’s great.”

“Yes, he’s doin’ real well. The extra bit of pampering has done him a world of good. Why don’t you go out and say hello before you start the washing up?”

Margo hesitated. “Are you sure? He’s probably catching up with everyone.”

Hattie nodded. “He is, that’s for sure. But I’m certain he’d like to say hello.”

Margo felt the burn of acid in her stomach. Waiting wasn’t going to make it any easier. She turned and walked into the dining room. Carl sat in his usual spot, and she waved to him. “I’ll bring your drink in a minute, Carl.”

Carl nodded and waved and went back to talking with Angie.

At the sound of her voice, Trace turned in his chair.

Margo couldn’t hold his gaze. She walked over, bent down, and squeezed Ottie’s shoulders. “Ottie, it’s so good to have you back.”

“So good to be back,” Ottie said, reaching up to pat the hand she rested on his shoulder.

“You gave us quite a scare. Don’t do that again.”

Ottie grinned and tipped his top hat. “Always good to change things up. Don’t want to get too complacent.”

“On the contrary. We like complacent.” She looked over at Trace who was watching without a smile. “Hi, Trace.”

He nodded. “Margo.”

Ottie’s glance ping ponged between Margo and Trace. “Trace here is practicing for his medical school interview. It’s a week from Saturday.”

“Congratulations, Trace. That’s great,” Margo said, trying to inject some enthusiasm.

Trace smirked. Maybe she missed the mark.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Trace said it’s something called MMR,” Ottie continued.

“MMI, multiple mini-interviews,” Trace corrected.

Ottie waved it away. “MMR. MMI. What’s the difference? The point is, he has to interview fake patients. He’s trying to practice on me, but I told him to ask you. You’re the expert.”

Margo gave a crooked smile.

“You’ll give him a few pointers, won’t ya?” Ottie persisted.

“Of course,” Margo lied. “I can help out. If he wants my help–”

“Of course he wants your help,” Ottie said, glancing between her and Trace. He nudged Trace’s elbow. “Don’t ya?”

Trace jerked. “Oh yeah, of course. If she wants to help.”

“What’s the matter with you two? Of course she wants to help. You need help, and she can help you. There’s nobody better.” He fingered his hat. “But not right now. Right now I need you to get me some butterscotch ripple.” He pointed at Trace. “But you need her help,” he said sternly.

Trace laughed. “Okay. I’ll get her help. And I’ll get your ice cream. You’re getting demanding in your old age.”

Ottie laughed. “Oh, no. I’ve always been this way.”

As Trace turned to go to the kitchen, Margo said, “I should get Carl’s drink.”

“Make a date,” Ottie shouted.

Trace rolled his eyes. “Would you like to go out Friday night?”

Visions of the last gorgeous Friday night swam in her head.

“Dinner and a movie?” Trace asked.

Margo looked at him. “Sure, I’d like that.”

“Oh,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Actually there’s a game on, and we have box tickets. How about dinner and a hockey game?”

She liked the idea of a movie better. Less talking. “Sure,” she said reluctantly. “That sounds like fun.”

Trace snorted at the tone of her voice. He moved out of earshot from Ottie. “If you’d rather not, I understand.”

“No. It’s okay. I can help.”

Trace raised his eyebrows. “Okay. I’ll pick you up at six on Friday.”

Margo looked back at Ottie, who was looking pleased as punch.