“Yes. I’m supposed to meet someone here at four. His name is Dr. Duffy.”
She checked her clipboard. “Yes, he’s here. He said he was expecting someone. Follow me, please.”
Amy gulped. He had actually come.
Most of the tables were filled, and the after-work crowd was beginning to file in for wine and locally brewed beers as well as coffee. The hostess directed her to the booth by the window. The man rose to greet her. He looked younger than she’d expected. More handsome, too. A good-looking doctor. Gram would be doing cartwheels.
“Dr. Duffy?” she said as she approached.
They shook hands. “Right. And you must be…”
She hesitated. No last name. “Call me Amy.”
“Okay, Amy.” He didn’t push for a surname.
“Have a seat.”
The waitress appeared as they slid into opposite sides of the booth. “Can I bring you something?” she asked.
“How about a decaf cappuccino?” said Amy.
“And for you, sir?”
Ryan paused. “I’ll just have coffee.”
“We have two hundred kinds.”
“Pick any you like. Surprise me.”
She rolled her eyes, jotted something on her pad, and left.
Amy took another look at Ryan. He really was handsome.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
She blushed, embarrassed that he’d caught her staring. “I’m sorry. I guess you just don’t look anything like the small-town country doctor I was expecting.”
“Well, I make it a point never to smoke my corncob pipe outside of Piedmont Springs.”
She nodded and smiled, as if she’d deserved that. “Anyway, thanks for coming, Doctor.”
“Call me Ryan. And you don’t have to thank me. I’m pretty eager to find out what this gift is you’re talking about.”
“Then I’ll just get right down to it. Like I said, I got a package a couple of weeks ago. When I tore away the brown paper wrapping, I found a box for a Crock-Pot. No return address, no card inside. I checked the serial number with the manufacturer and found out the warranty was registered in the name of Jeanette Duffy.”
“That’s my mom’s name.”
“Does she own a Crock-Pot?”
Ryan chuckled, thinking of the mounds of corned beef at the gathering at their house after the funeral. “You bet she does.”
“A Gemco Crock-Pot, by any chance?”
“As a matter of fact, it is. I was with my dad when he bought it for her.”
It was the added confirmation she needed. “Good. Anyway, I opened the box.”
“I assume there wasn’t a Crock-Pot inside.”
“No.” Her expression turned more serious.
“There was money it. A thousand dollars.” Amy watched his face carefully. She felt duplicitous, but it wasn’t entirely a lie. It did contain a thousand dollars. She just didn’t tell him that it also contained 199,000 more. Not yet, anyway.
“A thousand dollars, huh?”
“I don’t know if it was your mom or your dad who sent it. Either way, with your dad just passing away, I didn’t want to bother or upset your mom. That’s why I called you. Honestly, I’m not sure what to do.”
“Keep it.”
She was taken aback by the quick response. “No questions asked?”
Ryan shrugged. “I can’t see my mother doing something like this. So I assume it was my dad. He obviously wanted you to have it. You may not have known him, but somewhere along the line you must have shown him some kindness, or maybe he felt sorry for you for some reason. My dad was that way. It doesn’t surprise me he’d send money to someone like you. You seem nice enough. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if he sent lots of people money after he found out he was sick.”
The waitress interrupted. “One decaf cappuccino,” she said, serving Amy. “And a cup of black sludge for the gentleman.” She smirked. “Just kidding. It’s Brazilian blend. Anything else?”
“No, thank you,” said Ryan. She turned and left.
Amy emptied a pack of Equal into her decaf.
“Are you sure I should just keep it?”
“Hey, it’s a thousand dollars. We’re not talking Fort Knox here. Just don’t tell my wife I let you keep it. She’d probably sue me.”
Amy sensed an opening to the kind of personal details she wanted. “She’s fond of money, is she?”
“That’s an understatement. It’s the reason we’re getting divorced.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too. Fortunately, we don’t have any children. Just money problems.”
“Too much? Or not enough?”
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Kind of personal.”
“Sorry. It’s just a familiar story, I guess.” Amy hesitated. She didn’t want him to know too much about her, but if she told him something about herself, perhaps he’d give her the insights she wanted into the Duffy family. “You might say I’m a bit of an expert on the subject of money and marriage.”
“Is that so?”
“My ex-husband was an investment banker. Loaded. It only made him meaner, greedier, if you ask me.”
“You’re divorced now?”
“Yeah. And I’ll be honest with you. We may not be talking about Fort Knox here, as you say. But I appreciate your generosity. I can definitely use the money.”
“Your rich ex-husband doesn’t pay enough alimony, I take it.”
“Doesn’t pay any. Not a cent.”
Ryan kidded, “Do you have the name of his lawyer?”
She smiled, then turned serious. “Ted didn’t need a lawyer. After I filed for divorce, he threatened to hide a bag of cocaine in my truck and get me arrested, then use the drug conviction to keep me from getting custody of our daughter. I wasn’t sure if he meant it, but I couldn’t take the risk. We settled. I got what was important to me — my daughter. Ted got what was important to him: he pays no alimony and hardly enough child support to cover the monthly food bill.”
“Sounds pretty tough.”
“Actually, I’ve never been happier in my life.” She smiled, though it was another half-truth. Taylor was a total joy, but going to law school solely for the money made her feel like a hypocrite.
She raised her coffee mug. “A toast to your new life as a redneck.”
“A redneck?”
“It’s an acronym. Sounds like redneck, but it’s R-D-N-K. Recently Divorced, No Kids.”
Ryan smiled. “Never heard that one before.”
“I made it up. Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
She caught him watching her over the rim of his cup. The sudden silence could have been uncomfortable, but his eyes put her at ease. She blinked, reminding herself to stay on the subject. “Getting back to this money thing.”
“Of course. The money.”
“I was pretty nervous about it at first. Now that I’ve met you, it’s almost embarrassing to say what I was thinking. I was just afraid to keep it until I had some assurance that your dad was on the level.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, I was having all kinds of crazy thoughts. Maybe your dad was a notorious bank robber or something.”
