If he believed in signs from the universe like Ava did, he’d look at the customer’s kindness as the good to balance the bad. Because—let’s face it—everything is off this morning.
His dad waited near the door, enthused about the evacuee from the fires. While second thoughts shifted through Dan. He hadn’t rented out the in-law unit since his divorce, preferring to keep things as simple as possible, especially for Ben.
Dan silently thanked the stranger for the gesture. Stuffed the money he would’ve used to pay for his order along with a tip into the tip jar and grabbed his to-go order.
His dad held the door open. “Perhaps you’ll discover a new appreciation for pets with our tenant.”
That wasn’t ever going to happen. Dan had nothing against dogs. In another life, he’d pictured his home with several kids, two dogs and a wife. That wasn’t his world now and that picture had been distorted years ago. Dan’s world now was his work, volunteering and his son.
Besides, he wasn’t about to do anything that might ruin what he already had. His life was good. He was content. Ben was happy. That was enough, wasn’t it? “I don’t think she’ll be with us that long.”
“There’s a fire raging in the mountains, son.” Rick settled a baseball cap on his head and studied the sky. “It was only twenty-five percent contained this morning.” That could delay her return.
“Pick up groceries on your way home.”
“I went to the store two days ago.” Dan pulled his truck keys from his pocket.
“Not for us,” his dad said. “For Brooke. Our tenant.”
Dan stopped on the sidewalk and faced his dad. “You want me to buy her food?”
“I’m heading back up north.” Rick twisted a plastic lid over his coffee cup. “They need help transporting supplies to the shelters.”
And his father expected Dan to help their new tenant. After all, that was the Sawyer way.
He could argue that he’d forgotten to order syringes last week and had to pick those up within the hour. Mention the planning meeting he’d promised to attend for the school’s Fall Festival. And detail every other ball he juggled to keep the Sawyer family moving forward. It wouldn’t matter.
His dad knew Dan would buy groceries. And Dan knew it, too.
He ordered his dad to be safe, climbed into his truck and rearranged his schedule for a quick stop at the grocery store.
Ten minutes later, Ava climbed into the truck. She dumped her backpack with a thud and grasped the extra tall tea from the drink holder like it was a divine gift. “What is a sign associated with meningitis—Homans’s sign, Kernig’s sign or Tinel’s sign?”
“Kernig’s sign. If the leg can’t be straightened, it’s a positive sign for meningitis. Homan’s is deep-vein thrombosis and Tinel’s is carpal tunnel syndrome.” Dan tapped his coffee cup against hers. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“You should be in physician’s assistant school with me.” Ava sipped her tea. “I could use your brain.”
“You mean you could copy off me.” Dan pulled away from the curb and merged with the traffic.
“It’s wrong to copy.” Ava glanced in the back seat as if making sure Ben wasn’t there. “But I would use your notes. You write much neater than me.”
“You say that like it’s bad.” Dan clicked on his blinker to change lanes. That should mute the vibration of his phone on the console and his urge to make sure it wasn’t Valerie calling him again.
“Speaking of bad things, did you hear about Hank?” Ava asked.
“Kevin told me that Hank got sick last night.” Dan’s supervisor, Kevin McCoy, had called him on his way into work to let Dan know he was one of the senior guys on shift for the night.
“Sick is putting it mildly,” Ava said. “Denise texted me. Hank is having triple-bypass surgery this morning. He’s only forty-four.”
Hank Decker was also a career paramedic and one of Dan’s longtime coworkers. Dan stopped at a red light and looked at Ava. “Are you serious?”
“Wish I wasn’t.” Ava tapped her fingers against her cup. “What did you eat last night in the rig?”
“What does that have to do with Hank?” Dan scowled at the traffic around him.
“Come on, Dan. You and I both know the statistics of our work too well,” Ava said. “You have to take better care of yourself. You don’t want to become another statistic.”
Dan focused on the car in front of him. Ava had to transition from her paramedic work into something less stressful. Between her military-medic background and working as a paramedic in the city, she’d pushed the limit on her stress boundaries. But Dan didn’t have that kind of stress. Sure, his plate was full, but whose plate wasn’t?
“If you aren’t going to do something for yourself, then do it for Ben,” Ava urged.
“Fine. You’re right.” Ben was his everything. His son was his world. And his best friend wasn’t wrong. “I could stand to eat a few less french fries and add a few more days at the gym every week. That sound good?”
“It’s a start,” Ava said.
“Now, can we talk about coordinating the bachelor-and-bachelorette celebrations?” And move away from Dan’s health and his fast track to becoming another statistic.
Dan gripped the steering wheel. Had his supervisor known about the seriousness of Hank’s condition last night? Was that why Kevin had ended the call with the comment about an assistant director position opening within the next month? Adding that he considered Dan a natural fit, as if Kevin feared Dan might be next on the statistic train. Would he?
Dan took a large sip of his coffee, determined to slip in an hour at the gym later that afternoon. “I think we should stick with our original idea. Call the whole thing a coed bash and have one big party.”
Surely talking about wedding plans with his best friend would get the day back on track. Back to normal. And distract him from his phone. The one that buzzed again on the console. Dan rushed on, covering the sound, “About the wedding schedule.”
“You’re quite popular this morning. Something I should know?” Ava grabbed his phone and held it out of his reach. Her gaze settled on Dan like the fog over the bay: heavy and dense. “You met someone.”
“When?” Dan shook his head. “Last night between the heart attack and the preterm labor patient?”
“You have less than four weeks until the wedding. You need a date, or you’ll be at the singles’ setup table,” Ava warned, as if he wasn’t paying close enough attention. “Do you want that?”
He wanted his day to return to normal. He wanted Valerie to stop calling. He wanted to grab his phone from Ava. “Who’s at the singles’ table?”
“Women who want to date you.” Ava’s smile lifted her eyebrows and lightened her tone. “Especially Marlene Henderson. You remember Marlene, right? Wyatt’s mom introduced you guys during her garden party in the spring. Marlene is the master gardener at the botanical garden.”
And excessively gabby. Dan cringed. He’d never met anyone capable of putting so many words into one breath so continuously without hyperventilating. Dan had taken several deep breaths for the poor woman. Fortunately, a dear friend of Wyatt’s mom had a plant question and Dan had handed off Marlene, then escaped. Surely there was another guest on the wedding-invite list prepared and eager to match Marlene word for word. It just wasn’t Dan.
His phone chimed. He winced and concentrated on the road. He was setting his phone on permanent silence as soon as he got it back.
“Seriously, what is with your phone? You never get so many calls.” Ava crammed the party-planner binder back into her backpack. “We’ll deal with party planning later. What aren’t you telling me?”
Ava’s insight was all too clear. One of the pitfalls of having a best friend trained to read people and their actions. Dan pulled into a parking space outside San Francisco College of Medicine and turned toward Ava.
She jumped in first. “Everything okay with Ben? Your dad?”
The concern in Ava’s voice broke through Dan’s jumbled thoughts. Ava cared for his family. Her interest was real and genuine. He’d always appreciated that about her. “Dad is fine. He’s opened the mother-in-law apartment to a fire evacuee.”
“That’s wonderful and...” Ava’s words drifted off as if she sensed there was more.
He supposed she could read him well enough to know there was more. They’d worked in tandem too many nights on call in the ambulance not to be able to figure out each other.