The Single Dad Finds a Wife. Felicia Mason
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patients faced once they left Common Ground.
Not able to bear hearing any more, she hurried out the doors toward her car.
They obviously needed help, and she was glad she’d used the ploy of giving the Common Ground business card to the child. Handing it to a child patient eased any potential embarrassment of the parent while still getting the necessary contact information into the parent’s hands.
Because in addition to a toll-free after-hours clinic number, the contact numbers for both the soup kitchen and homeless shelter were on there. She hoped Mr. Camden wouldn’t be too proud to seek the assistance he obviously needed.
She sat in her car for a moment, tears inexplicably welling in her eyes.
She had been blessed with so much. And there were people like Mr. Camden and Jeremy who were just struggling to make it. The News & Observer, the daily newspaper out of Raleigh and Durham, was filled with stories about families who’d lost everything in the recession, who were victims of layoffs or downsizing. Of others forced into foreclosures or short sales on their homes. She wondered again what category the Camdens fell in, what had happened to them that put their stability in jeopardy.
I wanna go to our real house.
“Not a hotel,” Spring said, sadness seeping into her bones.
She started the car, a sensible and dependable late-model Volvo.
At least Jeremy had a hotel room to sleep in, she thought. That meant they weren’t living in a car like so many of the region’s homeless population were.
Suddenly not feeling much like an indulgent six-or seven-course gourmet dinner with her friends, Spring pressed a button on her dash panel and told the car phone system to “Call Cecelia.”
She’d cancel on the Magnolia Supper Club tonight and just go home. A bowl of soup, some tea and a good book would suit her just fine.
As she drove out of the parking lot, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Mr. Camden emerge from the clinic holding Jeremy in one arm, the Common Ground Free Clinic tote in the other.
Seeing that made her feel a little better.
Shelby had somehow gotten him to take the bag of supplies, samples, coupons and information that every new client received.
The car’s remote phone system connected. “This is Cecelia Jeffries,” a husky voice said.
“Hey there, Cecelia. It’s Spring.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes,” her friend said. “You’re calling from that car phone again. I didn’t recognize the number and thought one of my students had somehow gotten my personal cell. What’s up, girl?”
Spring smiled, her friend’s voice lifting her spirits. “I’m going to have to cancel on the supper club tonight.”
“Cancel? It’s already canceled. Didn’t you get the messages?”
“Messages? No, I’ve been at the clinic. We had a late walk-in.”
“There was a break-in at the store. Gerald is falling apart.”
“Is he okay?” Spring asked, alarmed. Gerald Murphy did not do well with deviations from the norm. “I can head over there right now.” Spring turned toward Main Street instead of the street that would lead to her house across town.
“He’s fine,” Cecelia said. “You know how he is. Richard has been dealing with the police.”
Spring made the left onto Main Street and the downtown district where Step Back in Time Antiques was located.
“I see the police squad car in front of the store,” she reported.
“Come over when you leave there,” Cecelia said. “I’m making a quick chicken potpie, so at least you’ll have a hot meal since you probably just had a protein bar for lunch.”
Spring chuckled. “You know me too well.”
“Girl, forget saving calories. Life was meant to enjoy—and that means enjoying good food.”
“Everything in moderation,” Spring said.
Cecelia snorted at that.
After promising that she would stop by after checking on Gerald and Richard, Spring disconnected the call and pulled into a spot on the street behind the Cedar Springs Police Department cruiser.
As she got out of the car and headed toward the door of the shop, a train display in the window of Step Back in Time Antiques caught her eye. She wondered if Jeremy Camden liked trains. She realized that if Mr. Camden was living with his young son in one of the city’s low cost extended-stay hotels populated by some of the homeless, the last thing that would be on his mind would be splurging on an antique train set, no matter how fetching.
She couldn’t help the sadness she felt knowing that Jeremy wouldn’t—couldn’t—have something as simple as a train set.
The only thing on David Camden’s mind was picking up that prescription, getting Jeremy settled in bed and then figuring out a way to show Dr. Spring Darling that he wasn’t the sort who took an unneeded handout. She had to have overheard that fiasco at the front desk.
After that, he would figure out how he was going to make the meetings in the morning with first the public safety officials and then the mayor and planning officials. That his priorities were turned topsy-turvy didn’t at all surprise him the way it should have. His son and securing the deal with the City of Cedar Springs should have been his only two concerns. Yet here he was disturbed and wondering about the impression he’d made on a woman he’d just met.
He’d seen her as a woman, someone he could be interested in and that hadn’t happened in a long time.
“Focus, Camden,” he coached himself.
He had work to do and none of it involved a tall blue-eyed blonde.
David forced his attention to his current dilemma.
He couldn’t take Jeremy with him to the meetings, and he couldn’t afford to blow this deal. The opportunity for his company, Carolina Land Associates, was too great, and, in a way, Jeremy’s future depended on his sealing the contract.
He also wondered if Dr. Spring Darling was the Darling he’d read about in the online edition of the Cedar Springs Gazette—the Darling so vocally opposed to and leading the effort to squelch the very notion of development in the city. But before he could investigate any of that, he needed to make sure Jeremy was all right. A glance over his shoulder and to the backseat of the sport utility vehicle confirmed that his little slugger was still knocked out.
He’d fallen asleep almost as soon as David got him buckled into the child safety seat.
After a quick dash into his hotel room to retrieve the wallet he’d left on the dresser next to the television’s remote control, he got a quart of orange juice and the medicine. David insisted on paying cash for the prescription—despite the pharmacist’s assurance that it was free. The last thing he wanted to do was take away a resource from someone who actually needed it.
He roused Jeremy long enough to get him undressed, to the bathroom and back into the big bed. When they’d first checked in, the boy had loved the idea that he would get to sleep in a big bed like Daddy’s. Jeremy had jumped on both double beds and giggled as he hopped from one to the other. But David knew he’d soon want to climb back into his own bed at home, the one decked out like a Formula One race car.
David stared down at his sleeping son as a concept that would enhance his presentation to city officials began unfolding in his mind.
Jeremy’s bedroom furniture and the children’s waiting room at the clinic had given