Heather Page 6

  Now Lucy’s deep laughter transformed to a smug grin. “Good looking fellow, that young man. Nice too. Those are hard to come by.”

  Keeping her mouth shut and nodding struck Heather as her best option if she didn’t want to find herself trapped in close quarters with an unsuspecting man. Of course the idea of getting up close and personal with Jake held more appeal than it should; she had patients to get back to. No matter how she might reply, she knew that somehow, Lucy would twist it back at her. The woman was the salt of the earth, but for someone thrice divorced, she was an incorrigible romantic. Which of course might explain why she’d run through so many husbands and delighted in setting up singles. Though as far as Heather knew, poor Lucy had yet to successfully pick a good match.

  “Oh, my.” Lucy lifted her nose to the sky. “I do believe I forgot to turn the oven off. You’d better take this up to Mr. Harper for me.”

  Without giving her a chance to accept or back out, Lucy shoved the tray at Heather and spun about, scurrying off.

  Her grandmother’s knitting needles clacked away. Her expression unresponsive. Her eyes twinkling. Whether the woman was oblivious or playing coy, Heather hadn’t a clue. She always wondered how much of what went on did her grandmother really see. Blowing out a resigned sigh, she stood, tray in hand. At least he wasn’t working in the shed.

  Grams swung the yarn around the needle, pulled it through, pinched her lips and frowned. “I don’t think it’s supposed to look like this.”

  Heather didn’t think so either, but then again, that could be why the one-time scarf was on its way to baby blankethood.

  Setting her work down on her lap, Grams looked up at Heather and smiled. “I forgot to mention.”

  “What’s?” Gripping the handles of the tray more firmly, Heather braced herself for some more matchmaking insight.

  “Your sister is upstairs.”

  “Rose?” Her sister, the museum curator, was almost as bad about coming to the lake as she was. To have both of them here on a Thursday afternoon could be the closest thing to a miracle since that commercial jetliner landed on the Hudson.

  Grams returned to winding yarn between clacking needles. “Violet.”

  Now that made more sense. Where she and Rose were more rigid in their routines, Violet was as flexible as a rubber band. “Which room is she in?”

  “Next to you.”

  “Thanks.” Heather kissed her on the cheek and carefully balancing the tray, dashed up the stairs. Normally when she or her sisters came to the lake they’d stay at their mother’s cottage. As each of his daughters married, the General had gifted them one of the smaller two bedroom cottages that peppered the Hart land. The disadvantage of having a socialite mother was that once her daughters were grown and gone, there was only so much free time that could be spent on charities and volunteer work. Every so often her mother’s abundance of free time meant a change to the cottage. Last week her mother had kept her awake and on the phone for almost an hour filling her in with painful detail of every design choice from imported tile for the backsplash to the flaky Boston artist hired to hand-paint a mural in the living room. If her parents weren’t at a conference in Hawaii for her dad, no doubt her mother would be here now bombarding her with paint swatches and hardware samples. The last cottage at the bottom of the hill at the far end of the property, the original six hundred square foot summer home now sported closer to a thousand and by winter a state of the art kitchen would be among its assets.

  With Heather’s every step the sound of crashing waves intensified. By the time she reached the end of the long hallway and opened the door, a small part of her almost expected to find the rushing Atlantic on the other side. On the floor, smack dab in the center of the room, legs crossed, eyes closed, wrists resting on her knees, and hands palms up, her sister Violet really did look to be in a trance.

  Peeking one eye open, Violet spied her sister and sprang to her feet.

  Heather set the tray down and pulled her sister into a bear hug. “Am I disturbing your journey to inner peace?”

  “Nah,” Violet held on a second longer, “I’ll find it later.”

  They spoke on the phone every few days, but not until this very minute did Heather realize how much she missed being face to face with her baby sister. “I thought you weren’t coming up until Sunday?”

  “Changed my mind.” Violet shrugged, turning off the wave sounds.

  “Just like that?”

  “Well,” Violet flopped onto the twin bed, “it might have had something to do with the heat going out at the studio and my having to cancel the rest of the week’s classes.”

  “The way things break in that building, sounds like your landlady could use her own Jake.”

  “Jake?” Violet’s brow dipped into a sharp V.

  “Harper. He’s very handy. As a matter of fact, he’s here now, fixing a broken shower for the General. Lucy wants me to deliver this to him.” Heather retrieved the tray and shifted toward the door.

  Violet raised her brows, dipped her chin and sprouted an oh-really grin to bookend the one Lucy had flashed downstairs.

  “Don’t you start with me. Lucy’s already singing her repertoire.”

  “I didn’t say a word. Yet. But you have to admit, not a bad example of beefcake.”

  “Beefcake?”

  “Have you seen the man without a shirt?”

  “Have you?” Why that thought made Heather feel like pissing on his leg and staking her claim she didn’t know. She had no claims to make on Jake or anyone else. She had one goal and it had everything to do with following in Michaelson’s footsteps as chief of cardiothoracic surgery, and very little to do with the opposite sex.

  “We all have.” Violet blinked and nodded. “Oh wait. You stopped swimming in the lake long before Jake’s growth spurts took off.”

  “Do you have any idea how many germs lurk in public waterways?” Or how embarrassing it is to lose a swimsuit top.

  “Heather, this is our lake where we learned to swim and ski and snorkel. Not the canals of Venice.”

  “Whatever.” She waved her sister off, but an unexpected knot twisted in Heather’s gut. A longing she’d never felt before. Didn’t understand. And it had nothing to do with the handsome guy down the hall. She’d always wanted to be a doctor. For almost as long as she could remember, nothing else seemed to matter. So what if she’d skipped out on the silly antics of summertime? None of the childhood games she’d missed would have made her a better doctor, a better surgeon. Baby Kyle’s life was not dependant on Heather having learned to water ski. The knot in her gut slithered its way up her chest, forcing her to ask an even more important question: would she have been any less competent with a scalpel if she’d taken a little more time to play?

  “I have to drop this off.” She spun away. The need to escape urged her out the door.

  “Okay,” Violet called after her, “but meet me downstairs. Finding inner peace works up an appetite. And sis?”

  “Yeah?” She paused half way to the bathroom.

  Violet winked. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Right. Like that would ever happen.

  Chapter Six

  “Lucy sent this up.”

  Jake didn’t have to turn around to see who was standing behind him. In the last several hours of the day, Heather’s sweet timbre was deeply, and he feared permanently, etched in his memory. “Thank you.”

  As he took a step forward, Heather took one in retreat and leaned against the doorjamb. He wasn’t really thirsty for lemonade, he’d had his fill at Mrs. Norton’s, but he couldn’t resist the need to turn and drink in a long glimpse of Heather. “Hard to turn down Lucy’s lemonade.”

  “That much I remember.” Her lazy smile distorted into a more saddened version.

  Everyone remembered Lucy’s fresh squeezed lemonade, but it didn’t require such a sour expression. “What’s up?”

  She pushed away from the wall and shook her head. “Just
being a little silly. And perhaps a tad self-pitying too.”

  “What do you mean?” Setting the empty glass down, he couldn’t understand what this new attitude was all about. It seemed so unlike the woman who’d mastered her way to the top in what was still most definitely a man’s field, nor the woman he’d watched with dogged determination the previous day protect her grandfather, or helped him earlier today to do something nice for a sweet old lady.

  “I loved this place as a kid. Summers here are some of the best childhood memories I have.”

  He nodded. Anyone who grew up at the lake understood that. The lake was a throw back to the days when parents let their kids out at daybreak and didn’t expect them home until sunset. And when it came to the Point at Hart House, maybe even later than that. “I detect a but coming.”

  “I don’t know. Talking with Violet just now it seems that apparently my childhood ended before everyone else’s.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She shrugged. “I never learned to water-ski.”

  “Excuse me?” That wasn’t what he’d expected.

  “While everyone was having fun at the lake, water-skiing, paddle boating, or generally cavorting in and around the water as teens, I read, read and read.”

  He nodded. “I remember. From the porch outside your cabin. You had a birds-eye view of the beach and the Point. I often wondered how you could resist coming out to join the fun.”

  “I never noticed. I was excited to learn about how the human body worked. To some day make a difference.” A sincere smile was back in place. “By the time I took biology in high school, I probably knew more about anatomy than my teacher.”

  “You do realize you’re the only person I know whose face could light up mentioning high school biology?” He took a step back and gave another quick turn to the handles he’d just installed, making sure they didn’t fall off again any time soon. Gathering his tools, he turned to catch Heather’s perplexed stare. “Don’t look so surprised. Is this about missing out on a little summer water sports or something else?”

  Heather shrugged. “At the time, whenever one of my sisters or cousins came in from all night on the beach telling ghost stories or dancing with their favorite boy for the summer, or bragging about how many times they made a rock skip—”

  “I think your sister Violet still holds the record.”

  “Yeah, well.” She blew out a sigh. “I never bothered to learn half the things they did. I brushed it off. Nowhere on the med school applications does it ask if you can skip stones or water ski. Never mind dance on the beach. For me, playing some stupid game like spin the bottle—”

  “Or truth or dare,” he interjected.

  One side of her mouth tilted up in a weak attempt at a smile. “Or truth or dare, I considered them to be highly overrated. Even the few times I’d get roped into a silly game, I’d walk away thinking what a waste of time.”

  “And now you don’t? Now you wonder if you missed out on more? Is that it?”

  “Maybe. Or I’m just overreacting and need to get a grip.” She sucked in a long breath, exhaled a deep sigh and forced a broad smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Dinner should be about ready and my taste buds are clamoring for anything Lucy cooks.”

  He wiped his hands on a rag and threw it into his bag. The woman standing in front of him was smart, successful, beautiful, and right now whatever her sister had recently said had struck deep, and he didn’t have a clue what to do or say to make it better. Much to his surprise, he really wanted to be the one to put the sparkle back in her eyes. Maybe Tom was right, he needed to get out more.

  ***

  “What in heaven’s name do you have there?” Heather came off the bottom step in time to see her sister and cousin struggle their way into the house with a massive box.

  Callie dropped her side of the cardboard container. “Varsity girl’s basketball game was cancelled. The other team’s bus broke down on route. Decided it was fate’s way of telling me today would be a great day to go broke saving money at the warehouse store.”

  “Which one?” Heather hurried to her cousin’s side, reaching for a free corner of the oversized carton and wondered if there was a dead body, or two, in the box.

  “Does it matter?” Violet shifted sideways to avoid losing her grip.

  “Whoa.” Coming from the hall, Jake hurried across the massive entry to the women, and placing a hand at each corner, lifted the weight from Violet. “You should have called me.”

  “You were finishing the bathroom,” Callie huffed.

  “I’m finished for the day.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Where is this going?”

  Callie’s pace slowed. “Right here is looking really good to me about now.”

  The box landed on the hardwood floors with a thud.

  “What is it?” Heather scanned the box for any hint of its contents.

  Callie straightened, brushing her hands together. “New recliner. Leather.”

  The others in the room eyed the box suspiciously.

  “Doesn’t seem the right size for a recliner.” Violet tilted her head to one side as if that might make a difference.

  Callie shrugged. “It will when we put it together.”

  “We?” Surprise rang out loud and clear in Heather’s tone.

  “Yeah,” Violet choked on a laugh. “What’s this we, Kemosabe?”

  “Let me take a stab at this.” Jake smiled at the three women. “Some assembly required?”

  Callie tapped the tip of her nose with her finger. “Very good.”

  “And just who is going to do some of this assembly?” Violet hefted her hands onto her hips. “Because I know you said we, but the only screwdriver I’m handy with involves orange juice.”

  Heather shook her head back and forth. “Don’t look at me. Scalpels don’t have anything in common with a screwdriver.”

  “Well,” Violet squeaked, “they are both sharp.”

  “Which won’t do a thing for assembling a recliner.” Heather swung her attention from her sister to her cousin. “And if it’s yours, why did you bring it here?”

  “If two heads are better than one, three should be better than two. Add six hands and putting this thing together should be a piece of cake. It can’t weigh anymore to haul it down to my place than the box would have.”

  “I think I know why they don’t ask her to teach math.” Violet shook her head at the box. “I don’t care how many heads and hands we have, this is a bad idea.”

  “Ladies.” Jake smiled and taking his keys from his pocket, cut the top of the box open. “I’m sure we can handle this.”

  Violet rolled her eyes. “There’s that we again.”

  “Okay.” Jake’s laughter rumbled low in his chest. “I can handle this.”

  “We can’t make you do that.” Heather put her hand on his arm. The warmth of his skin under her fingertips had her instantly regretting the move. The way his hands stilled and his gaze latched onto hers, she was sure he felt the heat as well. Oh, she really did need to get out of the hospital more.

  “You’re not making me.” He turned back to the box and ripped up the flaps. “I want to.”

  “Well.” Violet spun about. “I don’t mean to be rude. You know, open box and run, but before this thing steals what’s left of my positive energy, I’m going to return upstairs and work on my inner peace. Someone call me when dinner’s ready.”

  Heather watched her sister exit the room and start up the stairs before turning back to Jake and the box.

  Beside her, Callie shook her head at her cousin. “I hate it when she goes all yogi on us.”

  Reaching into the big box, Heather pulled out a plastic packet with papers, miscellaneous nuts, bolts, washers along with a few more things she didn’t have a clue what they were, and waved them at her two cohorts. “I’ll play navigator and read the directions.”

  Jake’s affirmative response bore an astounding resemblance to the grunt in a caveman come
dy routine. After he’d torn the box apart and spread the contents around him in the open space, he surveyed the items, reached for his tool bag, and pulling out a screwdriver and funny looking pair of pliers—at least Heather thought they were pliers—he began assembling two parts.

  “The directions,” Heather turned the page to glance at the diagram and then looked back to the instructions, “say to start with that part over there.”

  Another caveman like grunt accompanied a quick glance by Jake in the direction of her finger before he continued what he was doing.

  “I’ll be right back with a garbage bag for some of this mess.” Callie waved her arm at the scattered strips of cardboard and packing foam.

  “Sounds good.” Heather didn’t want her grandmother or Lucy coming in and seeing the huge mess they were making.

  Occasionally pausing to look up or ask for a screw or washer, Jake mostly went to task attaching wooden pieces that promised to transform this jumble of parts into a recliner.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to look at this?” Heather tried dangling the instructions in his direction.

  “Don’t need it. Hand me that other screw, please.”

  Heather looked around a second.

  “The long one,” Jake explained.

  Without letting go of the instructions no one was following, Heather shifted around Callie, now gathering the bits and pieces of cardboard and packing, and handed Jake the long bolt.

  Looking from the bag in her hand, to Jake, to Heather and back, Callie blew out a small sigh. “I think I’m going to get a pop. Anyone want something?”

  Jake mumbled no thanks, and Heather simply shook her head and looked down at the paper in front of her in an effort to compare it to what Jake was doing.

  Studying the diagram, she could feel the growing pressure between her brows. It made absolutely no sense that she could reconstruct tiny vessels in the most powerful muscular organ in the human body—the heart—and for the life of her couldn’t tell if what he was doing to the chair was anything close to correct. “How do you know what to do?”