The M.D. Next Door

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Meagan and Seth said at almost exactly the same time.

They laughed, then she said, “Alice said you had to work late tonight.”

“I was able to get away a little earlier than I expected. I might have driven a little too fast to make it here on time. I saw you when I walked in just now and I had to look twice to make sure it really was you.”

“Alice told me about the concert during our outing Saturday. She invited me to come and it sounded like fun.”

“You must be getting cabin fever if this sounded like fun.”

The unwitting repetition of her own earlier thoughts made her laugh again. “You could be right.”

He wasn’t smiling now. “Or maybe you were being nice. You didn’t think I’d be here, so you wanted to make sure Alice had more than our housekeeper supporting her in the audience.”

She didn’t want him to think Alice had said anything at all critical of him, or had deliberately played on Meagan’s sympathies. “Alice made it very clear you wanted to be here, Seth. She said you almost never miss any of her programs or performances. I didn’t come because I felt sorry for her or anything like that.”

His lips quirked a little, as though he were almost amused by her reassurances. “I appreciate that. I can’t help feeling guilty when work threatens to interfere with Alice’s plans.”

“I’m sure every working parent, married or single, struggles with that guilt.” Which was why she wasn’t entirely sure she should ever take on that responsibility, she mused as the overhead lights blinked to notify the noisy audience that the program was about to begin. Had she been back at work, it would have been very difficult for her to attend a six o’clock school program—not without reshuffling her usual work schedule, anyway.

The velvet curtains parted on stage and an expectant hush fell over the audience—except for one toddler who wanted to “go pee pee right now!” A few giggles broke out in response to the vocal demand, but most eyes were focused on the stage when the performers filed out from the wings to encouraging applause. The boys wore white shirts, black pants and black vests, and the girls were in long black dresses with three-quarter sleeves and white satin waist sashes. They all looked very much alike, Meagan thought with a frown, but then she smiled when she saw Alice on the second row.

Squirming a little in the not-particularly-comfortable auditorium seat, Seth propped his elbow on the wooden armrest between them just as Meagan leaned a bit that way. Their shoulders bumped, hands brushing on the armrest. Both straightened quickly, murmuring apologies and looking intently toward the stage. Meagan moistened her lips, a little shaken by that momentary contact. It had been a long time since a man’s fleeting touch had made her pulse rate trip. She had to admit it was a nice feeling—even though she wasn’t at all sure she should be reacting that way to this particular man. Didn’t she have enough complications in her busy life?

She focused intently on the reason she was there, rather than the imagined warmth emanating from the man sitting so close to her. It was an interesting concert. The choir performed a mix of classical pieces, oldies and more recent pop numbers—whatever the director had been able to afford to license for performance, Meagan figured in amusement. The kids were pretty good overall, though occasionally a note escaped that should not have been made by human vocal cords. The doting parents and grandparents in attendance didn’t seem to mind; they clapped as enthusiastically for the bad notes as the good.

“Alice has a very pretty voice,” she commented to Seth after one of the numbers. Alice had sung a couple of solo lines, and though nerves shook her voice a little, she still had a very nice tone.

“She got that from her mother,” Seth admitted ruefully. “I can’t sing a lick.”

Meagan spent the time during the next number wondering how Seth felt about his ex-wife. She’d heard little animosity in his voice on the few occasions he’d spoken of her. Had the split been amicable or was he hiding bitterness for his daughter’s sake? Had his heart been broken or hardened or relatively unscathed? Did he still love his wife? Had he ever, really?

Realizing she was indulging in idle speculation—a game of solitaire gossip—she told herself those questions were absolutely none of her business. She concentrated intently on the remainder of the concert, making a rather futile effort to keep her attention from wandering …elsewhere.

“To Alice. The star of the Pulaski Preparatory Academy junior high choir.” Seth lifted his plastic tumbler of fountain soda as he made the teasing toast a half hour after the concert’s end.

Brushed by the curls of her saucy new haircut, Alice’s cheeks reddened with embarrassed pleasure. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and muttered, “I’m not the star, Daddy. I only had two solo lines. Andrea Merchant is like the star of the choir. She always gets the long solos.”

“I like your voice better than hers,” Meagan asserted loyally as she dipped a french fry in ketchup. “She leans too heavily on melisma for my taste. I know it’s the style these days, but I think it’s overused.”

“Melisma?” Seth wasn’t sure he’d heard that term before.

“Stretching a single syllable with several notes,” Alice supplied quickly, her reciting tone suggesting it was a definition she’d learned in class. “You know, like ba-a-a-a-a-by.”

She warbled the word in illustration, hitting several notes in the process.

Seth nodded to indicate he understood. “That technique is overused these days. I didn’t know what it was called, but I often wish the singer would just pick a note and stick with it.”

Meagan and Alice launched into a discussion of current music stars and their singing styles, and Meagan proved to be quite up-to-date on contemporary music, though she admitted she didn’t follow the younger musical acts as much. Alice, whose taste in music had always been eclectic, made a snide comment about the teen-idol performers most popular with her classmates. Watching her, Seth tried to hide his amusement at her obvious attempt to appear more mature than the other young teens in front of Meagan.

His smile faded when he noted that Alice seemed to be imitating some of Meagan’s mannerisms, following the older woman’s example in cutting her cheeseburger into neat quarters before eating it, dabbing her napkin tidily at the corners of her mouth after each bite. He really didn’t mind that Alice had befriended the nice neighbor, but he hoped she wasn’t getting too attached. For all he knew, Meagan could lose interest in the kid once her sick leave ended and she returned to her former schedule. Not many single women Meagan’s age wanted to spend time with a thirteen-year-old—not even one as clever and sweet as his daughter, he thought, well aware of his bias.

It had been his idea to invite Meagan to join them for dinner after the concert. He’d figured she hadn’t eaten that early, and she’d confirmed his guess. He’d told her he’d promised Alice cheeseburgers and fries at her favorite burger joint after the concert—a rare treat, since he tried to promote healthy eating most evenings. At the time he’d offered, he hadn’t been sure he’d even be at the concert, but he’d promised to take her to dinner as soon as he could get there afterward. He was relieved he’d been able to make it to the event, though it had required almost superhuman effort to make it there on time.

Meagan had hesitated when he’d extended the invitation to her, but once again Alice had persuaded her to accept. He figured the least he could do was buy Meagan a burger since she had been nice enough to attend Alice’s concert. As kind as her intention had been, it still grated that it had been partially motivated by pity because poor Alice had a busy, working dad. Even though Meagan had assured him she understood the demands of single parenthood, she’d still felt obliged to fill in for him tonight, apparently. He was doubly glad he’d been able to get there, both for Alice’s sake and to prove to Meagan that he really did put his daughter above all his other responsibilities. He couldn’t say why it was so important for her, in particular, to see that.

He’d invited Nina to dinner, too, but Nina declined, saying her favorite television program was on that evening and she didn’t want to miss it. Seth hadn’t missed Nina’s little nod of approval when he’d included Meagan in the outing. Nina had dropped a couple of little hints about what a nice woman Meagan seemed to be and how well she and Alice got along and wasn’t it interesting that such a pretty single woman—emphasis on single—lived so close to his new house?

Seth was more amused than annoyed by his longtime housekeeper’s blatant matchmaking. Meagan seemed to be exactly the type of woman he should date, actually. Attractive, intelligent, and she liked his daughter. He had to admit he had quite a physical reaction to her warm smiles, and he enjoyed watching the emotions dancing through her expressive blue eyes. He’d been keenly aware of her sitting so close to him in the darkened auditorium, her arm bumping his when they applauded, her eyes meeting his in the shadows when they found something mutually amusing.

He’d been aware of the curious glances they’d gotten from his acquaintances among the other parents. They had probably assumed he and Meagan had arranged to meet there. Had that been true, it would have been the first time he’d attended one of his daughter’s school activities with anyone other than his housekeeper or, occasionally, Alice’s maternal grandparents.

He wouldn’t mind getting to know Meagan better—on a one-to-one basis—but what if it didn’t work out? Would Alice be disappointed yet again? Or, equally worrisome, what if it did work out? Was Alice really prepared to share her father’s attention, when he had to ration his time with her as it was? And speaking of time, did he really have enough of it to divide between his daughter and a more adult relationship?

“I felt so sorry for Jeffrey when his voice cracked in the middle of his solo line,” Alice said, calling Seth’s attention abruptly back to the conversation. “Jeffrey was so embarrassed. He’s really nice, in a shy sort of way.”

Something about her self-conscious tone caught Seth’s notice. Did his daughter have a crush on a boy in her choir? Was she old enough to have crushes already? Did he have to start worrying about that now? She wasn’t anywhere near old enough to have a boyfriend, and if she thought she was going to date at thirteen she had another think coming!

And hadn’t he just been sitting there worrying about the consequences of a relationship with a woman he hardly knew? One who might not even be interested in going out with him anyway?

They were quite a pair, he and his daughter. For now, it was probably best for them both to stay single.

“I had a good time tonight, Dad. Thanks for the burger. And for letting me have the hot fudge sundae for dessert. It was so good!”

Tossing his keys on the counter as they walked into the house a while later, Seth ruffled his daughter’s hair affectionately. “You’re welcome, Roo. You deserved it after that great concert.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist for a big hug. “I’m glad you could be there.”

“So am I, kiddo. Though there will still be times when my work will interfere with other things,” he warned her candidly. “I have to make a living for us.”

“I know, Dad,” she said, rolling her eyes a little as she stepped back. “I’m not a little kid, I understand about work commitments. But I’m glad you could come tonight, anyway.”

“Me, too.” He picked up a stack of mail Nina had left on the counter for him and flipped through the envelopes. Bills, mostly. Credit card and insurance offers. A postcard from his favorite men’s clothing store announcing an annual sale on suits. He’d have to check that out, he could use a new suit for summer.

Slitting open a small, square, cream-colored envelope, he drew out a folded card and scanned it quickly. He groaned.

Alice looked around from the sink, where she was cleaning Waldo’s water dish and filling it with fresh water for the night while the dog whined impatiently from the other side of the back door. “What is it, Dad?”

“It’s a reminder for a fancy charity thing I’m supposed to attend. It’s a week from Friday. Clever of DeAnna to send out reminders ten days ahead, this thing’s been scheduled for months and I’d forgotten all about it.”

“You hate fancy charity things,” Alice said sympathetically.

She knew him well. He nodded grimly. “I do. But I’ve got to go to this one. DeAnna is the managing partner’s new wife. He’s going to be checking who supports her at this.”

“Then I guess you have to go.”

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “I guess I do.”

She glanced at the Norman Rockwell calendar attached to the side of the refrigerator with a heavy-duty magnet, the calendar Nina used to keep track of the family’s schedule. “It’s already written down. You just haven’t looked.”