“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said. “I was worried about leaving her alone, but I had to drive Nan’s car back to her place, get the dogs settled, then take a cab back to pick up my car . . .” He flapped his hand, dismissing the details. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here. And that she’s okay.”
He looked toward Dr. Francatelli. “Broken collarbone?”
“Yes.”
Dr. Francatelli shared his concerns about finding someone to help. I was impressed by how patient he was, explaining everything yet again. I was also impressed by his chiseled jaw, Roman nose, and voice like a gondolier. Dr. Dreamboat indeed.
“Well,” Malcolm said, “I could take care of Nan and the dogs.”
He could? Didn’t he have an animal hospital to run?
“Really,” he said, responding to my curious look. “Taking care of seven dogs is all in a day’s work to me. And since I’ve just retired, I’ve got plenty of time on my hands. I can come over every morning and evening to walk and feed the hounds, and take care of anything else that needs doing.”
“When did you retire?” I asked. “I brought Desmond in for a checkup just last month.”
“It’s a recent development. More according to my ex-wife’s timetable than mine.”
Ex-wife? So Malcolm Kelly was single? I looked at Nan, wondering what she thought about this interesting piece of information, but she was staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes, humming to herself.
“But it does mean I’m available to give Nan a hand. Can’t hurt to have someone around with a medical background, can it?”
“You’re a physician?” inquired Dr. Dreamboat.
“Animal, not human,” Malcolm said. “But if Nan were a border collie, the treatment plan would be pretty similar.”
“Oh, how I would love to be a border collie,” Nan said dreamily.
Dr. Francatelli’s pocket started beeping. He pulled out his phone and read an incoming text. “Sorry, but I have to run. Nan can be released as long as there’s someone willing to take responsibility for her home care.”
“We’ve got this,” Malcolm assured him.
“All right, then, Nan, you rest and take it easy. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
Nan stopped humming and waggled her fingers in his direction. “Toodle-loo, Dr. Dreamboat.”
Dr. Francatelli handed me Nan’s prescription. “Nice to meet you,” he said.
“Same here.”
My cheeks were already flaming in the wake of Nan’s Dr. Dreamboat comment, but since I couldn’t possibly be more embarrassed than I already was, I pulled a business card from my pocket.
“Next time you’re in the restaurant, give this to the server and you’ll get a free dessert. And if you say you know me, maybe I can pop out of the kitchen and—”
Nan, who was still humming, hummed louder. Then she started to sing. “O sole mio, la, la, la, laaaaaa . . .” Proving that there actually is no limit to how embarrassed a person can be. I could have smothered her with a pillow.
Dr. Francatelli pocketed the card. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”
He smiled and I felt my knees go weak.
“Oh, that was smooth,” Alex said after he left, circling his thumb and forefinger into an “okay” sign. “Very subtle.”
“Remind me to ground you later,” I muttered.
“Well, Nan,” Malcolm said cheerily. “What do you say? Should we get out of here?”
Nan blinked a few times. “We?”
“Malcolm is going to drive you home,” I explained. “He’s going to help take care of you and the dogs until your collarbone is healed.”
Nan shook herself, as if trying to clear away the cobwebs.
“Oh, no. I appreciate your kindness, Malcolm, but that won’t be necessary. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, even with one hand tied behind my back. Or my front,” she said, staring down at the blue sling. “Anyway, I’ll be fine on my own. And I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”
“Not at the moment,” he assured her. “I’m the most logical choice. And since your doctor won’t release you unless there is someone to take care of you—”
“He’s right,” I said. “It’s either Malcolm or Chrissy. You decide.”
“No, no. Anything but that,” Nan said, and slumped back onto the pillows.
“Then it’s settled,” Malcolm said. “I’ll go see about getting the discharge papers ready. With luck, we’ll have you home before dinner.”
“That’s sounds nice.” Nan’s eyelids started to droop. “But does anybody have a net? Someone needs to climb up there and get the butterflies.”
* * *
Malcolm seemed to have everything under control, so Alex and I drove back to the restaurant to get ready for the dinner rush.
As soon as Alex put in his earbuds and started listening to music, I phoned Grace to fill her in on what had happened to Nan, and to try to get the scoop on what, if anything, had happened with Luke.
“Oh no!” Grace said. “Poor Nan. Is she okay?”
“She’ll be good as new in a few weeks. And she was definitely feeling no pain when we left,” I chuckled. “Dr. Dreamboat prescribed some really nifty meds.”
“Dr. Dreamboat?”
“Nothing. Just something Nan said. Not important. I’ll tell you later. Maybe.” I coughed. “Anyway, how’s your day? Anything interesting happen? Did you have any . . . uh . . . visitors or anything?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. Luke Pascal just happened to be in Starbucks at exactly three o’clock today. Isn’t that crazy? I mean, what are the odds? Oh, and next time I see you, remind me to choke you.”
“What?” I laughed. “You said not to give him your phone number. I didn’t.”
“Don’t play innocent with me, Monica. When I said don’t give him my number, you knew that I didn’t want to see him or hear from him, period.”
I didn’t roll my eyes, but I could have.
I mean,
