The Marriage Portrait

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue

“Ladies, it’s time for new business,” Louella Gibbons, the chairwoman of the Minnetonka Mums, declared with a clap of her gavel. The garden club, composed entirely of senior citizens, had gathered for their monthly meeting. All talk of hybrids and pollination ceased as they looked to their leader.

“I believe Tessie has a request.”

All eyes turned in the direction of the white-haired woman who pushed her chair back and stood—all five feet two inches of her. With a somber expression on her face, she said, “I’ve decided to take you up on your offer to help with Michael.”

Murmurs of approval spread around the table, but they were quickly silenced as Louella said, “Order, ladies.”

Tessie continued. “I’ve given him plenty of time to do his thing, but as you know, he’s going to be thirty-five next month. I’m afraid if I don’t do something, it’ll be too late. I’m not getting any younger, either.”

“No, none of us are,” Agnes Dienhardt contributed.

“And we all know what’s happening,” Tessie continued.

“The pool’s getting shallower with every year that passes,” Francine Collona answered with an ominous shake of her head.

“You don’t want him to wait so long that it’s empty,” another Mum piped in.

“He definitely needs a little push in the right direction,” Agnes added.

“You all know I’m not the kind of mother to interfere, but…” Tessie trailed off.

“He’s leaving you no choice,” someone finished for her.

“Exactly,” Tessie stated with a knowing nod. “And I have good intentions. I only want him to be happy.”

“Of course. We all do. We love him, too,” Louella said on behalf of the group.

“Then you’ll do it?” Tessie asked, giving the group an encompassing glance.

“Of course, we’ll do it, but someone will have to make a motion,” Louella answered.

Betty Jean Greer raised her hand and said, “I move that the next project we undertake be the courtship of Dr. Mac.”

“I second,” another voice said.

“All in favor?” Louella asked.

A chorus of ayes could be heard.

“Anyone opposed?”

Silence.

Louella then decreed, “Passed. The Minnetonka Mums have agreed that they will do whatever they can to assist Tessie in finding Dr. Mac a wife.”

Tessie smiled broadly at the group of women gathered. “Thank you so much. You are the dearest friends a woman could have.”

“That’s what Mums are for,” Agnes reminded her with a pat on Tessie’s hand. “Besides, we’ve all been itching for you to give us the go-ahead. We have lots of ideas.”

Tessie smiled slyly. “That’s just what I wanted to hear. Should we get down to business, ladies?”

Chapter One

“Good morning, Dr. Mac. And happy birthday.” The young woman sitting at the reception desk in the clinic handed him a small stack of pink slips. “Your messages.”

“Thank you, Jenny. For both the birthday wish and these,” he said, waving the pink slips in the air.

“I put up a sign. I hope you don’t mind,” she said, nodding toward the waiting area where a computer-generated banner hung on the wall. It read, “Bark for Dr. Mac’s birthday.”

Dr. Michael McFerrin wished the staff didn’t see birthdays as an occasion to celebrate. If it were up to him, he’d treat his as if it were just another day of the week. Get up, go to work and come home. No fuss. No big deal.

Unfortunately, Jenny—and he guessed the other employees at the clinic—thought his birthday merited more than a casual “oh, by the way, happy birthday” wish in passing. He discovered this was true when he stepped into his office and saw the cake. Suddenly, behind him was the entire office staff.

“That looks like an awful lot of fire for one cake,” he quipped as the tech, Tabitha, began lighting the candles.

“Quick, make a wish,” she said, when all thirty-five had been lit.

Mac wasn’t one to make wishes. He closed his eyes briefly to humor them, then with a deep breath, blew out the candles. One remained lit. He blew once more, it went out and then burst into flame again.

“All right. So who put the trick candle on the cake?” he asked, surveying the small group gathered around him.

“No wishes for you this year,” Tabitha said smartly as she pulled the candles from the frosting. “Who’s having cake?”

“I haven’t had breakfast,” Mac remarked.

“Sir, this is breakfast,” Tabitha retorted, cutting the cake with a large knife. “I’ll cut you a big one.”

“First he has to open his present,” Jenny reminded everyone.

Present? He squirmed uncomfortably. “Didn’t we agree last year that there were going to be no more presents?” He plastered his sternest look on his face.

“You agreed,” Tabitha retorted. “We didn’t.”

Jenny produced a brightly wrapped package. He fumbled with the gold ribbon that refused to come undone. Finally Jenny reached over and clipped it with scissors. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Inside the box was a T-shirt that had a cartoon drawing of a shaggy mutt on the front. Below was a caption that read “In Dog Years I’m Dead.”

He grinned. “Very funny, ladies.”

“We know you’re not dead, sir,” Jenny spoke up.

“Well, Jenny does anyway,” Tabitha quipped. “She answers your private line. What’s the total so far this month?”

“Only seven. He’s slipping,” Jenny answered.