The Patterson Girls (24 page)

She slipped off her stool, picked up her handbag (she'd never get used to saying ‘purse' as they called it in the States) and the half-finished glass of club soda, then smiled at the maître d' as he led them to their table. Hugo gently pressed his hand against the small of her back as she passed him. It was such a simple, innocent gesture—he was only being a gentleman—but Madeleine's emotions were wreaking havoc with her body. A tingling shot up her spine from where he'd touched her and quickly spread all over.

They arrived at their table, a lovely private spot with views overlooking Inner Harbor, which shone and sparkled with the lights of boats and buildings on the other side of the Patapsco River. It still took her breath away every time she looked at it. The maître d' pulled back Madeleine's chair and once she'd sat, he shook open a napkin and laid it across her lap.

‘Your waiter for the evening will be Hans and he'll be here with the menus in a moment, but can I get you something to drink to start with?' he asked, smiling first at Madeleine and then at Hugo.

‘Shall we order a bottle of wine?' Hugo asked, opening the drinks menu.

Madeleine shook her head and tapped the side of her glass. ‘I'm sticking to soda.'

‘Right, I forgot.' He closed the menu. ‘Maybe I'll wait and see what Celia wants.'

Madeleine looked up at the maître d'. ‘Can I get a refill, please?'

‘Of course.' The maître d' bowed his head and then took the drinks menu from Hugo. ‘Hans will be with you in a moment.'

‘Thanks,' Hugo and Madeleine said at the same time as he turned to walk away.

‘So what happened?' Hugo asked, leaning back in his seat.

‘I'm not sure I want to talk about it.' Madeleine sulked.

‘Okay, whatever you want.' He nodded. ‘You'll never guess who I ran into at the hospital this afternoon?'

But of course Madeleine could no more keep her disastrous meeting with Ross to herself, any more than she could her initial plan to have a baby. ‘Oh, Hugo, he was awful,' she confessed, taking a sip of her soda and pretending it was champagne.

And then her sorry story spilled from her lips.

‘Maybe the next guy will be better?' Hugo offered encouragingly once Madeleine had finished.

‘Maybe.' She frowned. ‘But he was top of my list. I was hoping I wouldn't have to get to Potential Donor Number Two.'

‘Hey folks, sorry I'm late. What have I missed?' Celia landed beside them, her face radiant and her jet-black hair immaculately straight and hanging down her back. Heads throughout the restaurant turned to look at her as she unwrapped herself from her winter coat. Madeleine felt certain she never looked so amazing when she'd just emerged from a stressful surgical situation. It would be easy to hate Celia if she wasn't so damn nice.

Hugo leapt up, took her pale pink coat and then kissed her on the cheek and Madeleine felt a stab in her heart. Usually she managed to ignore her feelings for Hugo, but today, in her highly charged, extra-emotional state, it was an effort.

Hugo held out Celia's seat but before she sat she leaned across and air-kissed Madeleine's cheek. ‘How are you, darling? Feels like forever since we caught up, although Hugo's kept me up-to-date.' She raised her eyebrows as she lowered herself into her chair. ‘I must say I'm surprised but intrigued by your venture. How was your meeting tonight?'

Madeleine rolled her eyes and was halfway through rehashing the story when their waiter arrived.

‘Good evening.' He grinned as he placed a gold embossed menu down in front of each of them. ‘I'm Hans and I will be serving you this evening. Would you like me to run through the chef's specials?'

The three of them looked up and nodded, although Madeleine was in no mood for eating anything. Celia ordered the lobster bisque and Hugo the pan-roasted dorade. They both requested the suggested wine accompaniments and then Hans looked to Madeleine for her decision.

She scanned the menu once again. ‘I'll have the baby spinach and frisée salad, please. No wine.'

Celia tsked. ‘You'll have to eat more than that if you get pregnant.' She'd always been one of those women who could eat heartily and still imitate a beanpole. There was literally
nothing
not perfect about her.

‘I'll worry about that when I'm actually pregnant,' Madeleine replied, perhaps a little too tersely. ‘But I have a major hurdle to get over first.'

‘Hmm?' Celia sighed and flicked her hair over her shoulders. ‘I'm still struggling with why you would actually want to do this. Are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into?'

‘Celia,' Hugo warned, reaching over and placing a hand on his long-time girlfriend's knee. ‘This is Madeleine's decision.'

She gave him a look. ‘I know and part of me thinks it's great—if she wants to have a baby, then why should she wait around for Mr Right? But—' she looked back to Madeleine ‘—I never saw you as the motherly type. What brought this on?'

Madeleine swallowed, inwardly thinking about the Patterson curse. Although she didn't believe there was any truth in such things, finding out about the curse had affected her more than she was willing to admit and she very much wanted to prove it rubbish.

Of course she couldn't tell her friends this—they were liable to laugh in her face, think she was joking and then, when they realised she was serious, start questioning her sanity. Besides, it wasn't just the curse. It went much deeper than that—to a yearning she'd been trying to ignore for years.

‘My sister Lucinda and her husband are trying for a baby. Being back home, talking with her and also seeing the children of some of my old schoolfriends, made me realise I'm not getting any younger. I never consciously decided not to have children, but work always came first and I guess I always imagined that when I met Mr Right, I'd think about a family then. But I'm thirty-five years old and Mr Right is nowhere in sight.'

‘So do you think you might go the anonymous donor route instead now?' Hugo asked.

She sighed. Initially the sperm bank option had seemed too cold, clinical and calculated, but if Ross Clark was an indication of the options on the known donor site, maybe an anonymous donor would be the best idea. At least then she wouldn't
know
if her baby's father was a lunatic. But that thought didn't sit well either.

‘I don't know.' Madeleine ran her fingers through her hair in frustration as the waiter arrived with Hugo and Celia's drinks. She eyed them jealously. ‘Let's talk about something else. Why were you delayed in surgery?'

Celia puffed out air between her lips. ‘You'd think a tonsillectomy would be simple, right?' She launched into a description about her hellish afternoon in which her five-year-old patient had suffered an extreme reaction to the anaesthesia.

‘Oh shit.'

Hugo and Madeleine offered their sympathies, having both experienced equally traumatic situations. They exchanged stories of operations gone wrong, both fascinated and horrified by the memories in a way that only other doctors could understand. When their meals arrived, talk continued in this vein, for which Madeleine was thankful. Although finding a donor had been her focus the last two weeks, she didn't want to lament on her disappointment all evening.

She thought her friends had all but forgotten her donor woes when Celia interrupted Hugo in the middle of a graphic description of one of his patients who'd haemorrhaged badly during a VBAC.

‘I've got it,' she shrieked, as if she'd suddenly had a premonition of the winning lottery numbers.

‘What?' Madeleine and Hugo asked at the same time.

Celia grinned, her eyes lighting up her whole face. She pointed between herself and Hugo. ‘We're not planning on having children. Golly, I could never do that whole pregnancy and birth thing and I'd go insane if I had to take more than a week off work, but I must admit it'd be a pity to waste these good genes.' She leaned over and pinched Hugo's cheeks like he was a chubby little baby. He didn't look impressed. ‘Hugo can be your sperm donor!'

Hugo dropped his fork and knocked over his wine glass. His mouth fell open.

Madeleine froze, shock paralysing her at Celia's candid suggestion.

‘Don't look so appalled, you two.' Celia waved her index finger at them as if they were a couple of naughty children.

Madeleine felt drops of Hugo's wine dripping over the table and making a cold, wet patch on her favourite white trousers, but still she couldn't move. Hugo looked as frozen as her but Celia barrelled on. ‘It's the perfect solution. He's good-looking, intelligent, funny, in good health, fit—' she went on and on listing all the reasons Madeleine had already thought of ‘—and best of all, he's available right now. And, you won't have to go through any more awkward pseudo dates trying to find the right candidate. You can just get straight to the fun part.'

Madeleine gulped.
Fun part?
Images of her and Hugo in bed, their limbs entwined in the throes of passion landed unbidden in her head. Her cheeks flushed. ‘Actual conception would be done via turkey baster method,' she said, only just managing to choke the words out.

Celia laughed. ‘By fun, I meant the morning sickness, swollen ankles and horrific food cravings.'

‘Oh, right.' Her heart rate slowed a little but she couldn't bring herself to look at Hugo.

‘So what do you think?' Celia asked, all but bouncing in her seat.

Madeleine braved a glance, hope sparking within her that he might share Celia's enthusiasm but Hugo looked as if he'd lost the power of speech. She honestly didn't know what to say. She couldn't tell the truth—that part of her loved the idea, that if Celia hadn't been in the picture she might have summoned the courage to ask him herself, that if he'd been the one to suggest it … she'd have done a celebratory jig around the restaurant.

‘Really … can one of you just say something?' Celia picked up her glass of wine. ‘You'd think I'd suggested a threesome or something.'

Hugo made a spluttering noise as if he were suffocating. Madeleine understood how he felt.

She would kill for a glass of wine now, anything to help her cope with this awkward situation. ‘I understand what you're saying, Celia, but even if Hugo was willing, I wouldn't want to compromise our friendship and—'

Celia waved a hand in the air. ‘We're all grown-ups. Nothing would be compromised. I have a very good lawyer friend who I'm sure would be happy to draw up contracts between you. He loves interesting cases such as this.'

‘Celia, leave it.' Hugo rarely raised his voice or spoke sternly and Madeleine found it inappropriately sexy. ‘Madeleine has already made her decision.'

‘Fine. I was only trying to help.' Celia looked to Madeleine. ‘You know that, right?'

She nodded and smiled at her friend, hoping her disappointment didn't show on her face. ‘I appreciate the sentiment.' She took another sip of her club soda but it just didn't cut it. Ross Clark had ruined the evening and it had gone downhill from there. ‘If you don't mind, I'm going to head home. It's been a long, disappointing day and I'm tired.'

‘Of course.' Hugo stood to help Madeleine out of her chair and gave her a quick peck on the cheek but he wouldn't look her in the eye. She felt as if she owed him an apology, but she hadn't suggested this crazy idea. ‘I'll see you at work.'

‘Good night.' Madeleine smiled at Hugo and then at Celia. ‘Hope you have a less stressful day tomorrow.'

‘Thanks.' Celia wiggled her fingers in a wave. ‘Keep us posted on Potential Donor Number Two. Fingers crossed.'

‘Will do. See ya.' Madeleine all but stalked out of the restaurant, feeling a maelstrom of emotions as she hailed a cab in the rain. Would Celia and Hugo have words now that she'd gone? They'd always seemed so perfect but she guessed they must have disagreements behind closed doors. Didn't all couples?

Madeleine slid into the back seat of a cab, rattled off the address of her apartment in Towson and then sighed as she remembered the day she'd met Hugo. Fresh from Australia, she'd been excited about starting work at St Joe's and Hugo had been one of the first people she'd met on the maternity ward. He'd been so welcoming, offering to show her round and introduce her to everyone, telling her to come to him if she needed anything. Tongue-tied is what she'd been, totally blown away by his gorgeous Boston accent and sunny smile. Not to mention his handsome looks; her whole body had quivered with awareness when he'd shaken her hand.

She'd noticed he wore no ring on his finger and hoped that was a sign he didn't have a significant other. So many times she'd almost asked one of the nurses, but she hadn't wanted to give away her little crush. Then, a week after she'd arrived, he invited her for drinks after work on a Friday night. ‘A whole bunch of us from the hospital go.' The group thing meant it wasn't a date, she got that, but she couldn't help hoping that maybe something would grow from the opportunity to see him outside of work. Surely the fact he'd asked her meant something. Unable to remember the last time she'd gotten excited about a man, she'd made an effort to change her outfit and reapply her makeup before walking the short distance to the bar.

Her head held high, nervous anticipation thrumming through her veins, she'd pushed open the door, walked inside and scanned the crowded venue. As Hugo stood a good head above most people, it took all of two seconds to locate him and in that moment, she felt as if someone had punched her in the gut. She actually stumbled backwards, ridiculous nausea rearing in her stomach at the sight of Hugo with his arm wrapped around the most stunning woman she had ever laid eyes on. She was living that old Alanis Morissette song—like meeting the man of your dreams and then meeting his beautiful wife.