As Brian help me into the doctor's office. The receptionist, Flora Potts, greeted me warmly and inquired with concern about my injury, how I'd fared during the storm and about Noah's progress in school.
Flora was a dear, and very well meaning, but a major league gossip, to be sure. All the while Flora yammered, I could see the older woman curiously eyeing Brian, I couldn't blame her. He was an arresting eyeful, resting on the truck while making calls. Strangers were few and far between in Sweetwater. Especially such handsome strangers. I knew that Flora would be interested in gathering as much dirt about my escort as possible to be swiftly sent on the airwaves.
"So who's the fella?" Flora finally asked sotto voce.
"Just...... Brian. A friend I replied, trying to sound casual "He was passing through town during the storm and..surprised us."
I looked her, gaze narrowed as she picked up a call. I could tell she didn't quite believe the story. I thought. I'd be off the hook, but Flora dispatched the caller quickly and returned to her questioning
"Nice of him to help you get over here and all, with your bad anlkle... Is he staying long to help out?"
"Not very, no. I don't think so," I shook my head doubtfully.
Flora was about to make further inquiries, I could tell, when the door to the exam room popped open and Dr. Sarah Oakely appeared.
Saved by the bell, I sighed silently. I liked Dr. Sarah and, more than that, respected her. Since the doctor s arrival in town a few years back, we had becomne good firiends though our busy schedules didn't allow for much socializing. Sarah's manner was quick and efficient. Her comments clipped and witty as she performed her examination. "So, up on the table, gorgeous. My, what a nice outfit. You look pretty good. For a sick person I mean."
"Thanks a bunch." I said as I levered myself up on the table.
Sarah slipped off my sandal, took my left foot in one hand and atter appraising the swelling, began to manipulate it. "So who's the hunk in the waiting room." she inquired. By that time, Brian had already finished making his call, and come back to the office.
"Uh.ouch! I yelped as Sarah pulled too far to one side."What hunk? I replied blandly.
"That big guy, with the shoulders and a sort of surly attitude?" She gently placed mu foot back on the exam table and fingered her kneecap.
"Oh. him."He's just my driver today. Nothing to worry about."
Sarah laughed at me. She rearranged my side-slit skirt to discreetly cover her leg again
"Okay. If you say so, dear. Wish I had the blood pressure meter on you tight now-you' re just about off the charts."
"Give me a break, Sarah." I sat up and shook my head. "He's just......some.....some guy. He's my sister's fiancé's older brother, all right? Does that answer all your questions?"
"Does it answer all of yours? Sarah returned with a knowing look
I rolled my eyes "What's the prognosis here, Doctor?"
"Let's see, looks like you've sprained some ligaments. Nothing is broken or torn, thank goodness Alternate with cold packs and warm soaks for the next few days and keep it elevated, " Sara concluded. Don't keep this bandage on while you sleep." Sara said. Sarah said, wapping my ankle in a stretch support bandage while she spoke "and you can bor row this adjustable cane if you need it," she added holding out an ugly metal model "If there any new developments-especially With your new chaufeur call me anytime, Olivia," Sarah offered cheerfully.
"Thank you, Doctor," I fought to hold back a grin. Sarah helped me down from the table and then to the exam room door Once she was out in the waiting room, Brian took over again. I glanced over my shoulder as they departed just in time to see Flora's beaming smile and cheerful little wave farewell...just as her other hand eagerly reached for the telephone.
"Well, where to now? Brian asked as he started up the truck again. I glanced at my watch. Within five minutes everyone in town Would be on the lookout for them curious to see Olivia's handsome stranger. I was already tired of answering questions about Brian they'd only made one stop Of course, there Was one safe place they could hide out for a while.
My own lovely shop.
"I'd like to drop in at my store for a while, I anwered. "My friend Maria is taking over for me and I'm sure she has everything under control. But since we're here, I might as well visit. It won't take long," I promised him.
"Take as long as you like," he replied. He turmed as I directed and we drove down the town's wide quaint Main Street Actually, "I'm loolking forward to seeing your store." I wasn't sure why, but the admission made me uneasy, While he knew I was no longer a preda tory threat to his brother, that still didn't negate the mean-spirited comments he'd made about her business skills. Still, I had always been very proud of the shop. Most everyone who came in found the place inter- esting and unique. I spent long hours on the dis- plays, mixing the true antique pieces with quirky but valueless plain old stuff. It was never very crowded with shoppers, even in the summer, when tourists sometimes wandered into town, following the trails of more than one guide- book that listed the town of Sweetwater as part of the genuine Old West. The shop was always quiet, cool and dark, even on the hottest sunmmer days. I enjoyed sitting at my perch behind the large glass display counter which was filled with antique jewelry pieces and garage sale finds. The long slow afternoons were the perfect time to work on my writng, and I truly cherished my lack of customers. But Brian didn't know about my writing career, namely the mystery novel I had published as M. O. Chris. Olivia was my middle name. Her real name was actually Mildred, a well-kept secret. And I had thought that in the mystery genre it might be better if the author name sounded more mysterious. Besides, the town of Sweetwater was so smotheringly small I felt the need to a low profile. Christopher was uch a common surname, few people ever suspected a connection, let al that I was the book's author. The advances on my books had been small enough to help out with her finances, but certainly not enough to quit my day job. The first book, published two years ago, had so far sold only a modest number of copies. But my editor, a savvy, fast talking young woman named Liz Dylan, seemed very hopeful that the upcoming title would do something called break through. The advance reviews were so good Liz promised that the publisher would really push the title. I had tried not to get my hopes up. Whether due to life experience or my basic na ture, l'd never been one to fry my chickens before they hatched. I wondered what Brian would think about my writing While part of me yearned to tell him about my publishing credits, I was also wary of exposing this part of my life . If he brushed it off, or made little of my accomplishnents, I knew I'll be terribly hurt. I had not made any real money from the two books I'd published so far and for all the kindness he'd shown me these past two days, that was still how he judged things-looking at the bottom line, tallying up the dull, practical dollars and cents. The realization made me even more reluctant to disclose this tucked away corner of my life to him When he clearly used money as a universal yard stick, why should he be s offended when other people-namely women-did the same to him, I thought?
Besides, did I even want to get more in volved with a man who was so rigid thinlking....... so judgmental? Get more involved? I heard my mental brakes screech to a halt. What in the world was I thinking? As they cruised down Main Street, Brian slowed to admire the scenery. You had to drive slowly in Sweetwater if you wanted to see anything, I reflected.
Brian had been right. One sneeze and you'd miss the place entirely." This is a pretty little town, he said finally. "I can see why you like it here so much." It was polite of him to be so complimentary, but I knew that he must really think the place a hope less backwater. "It has its pluses and minuses," I replied "Just like anyplace else. But I grew up in a town like this, not far from here," she added, "so I sup pose it just feels comfortable to me."
"Yes, comfortable. That's a good word for it," he said, gazing with interest out the driver's side window , I pointed out my shop, and he soon pulled over and parked right in front. The darkgreen awning that shaded the storefront and the swirling gold letters on the plate-glass win dows that read, " Olivia Attic" looked particularly fine to her today, As Brian came around to my side of the truck, I took a moment to regard my shop with pride....