Home To The Doctor. Mary Anne Wilson
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on clean shorts and opened the door. “So, what do you have?” he asked, hobbling back into the room.
“A lady showed up at the main house last night, told Mrs. Forbes you’d taken a fall and that you were in bed. She said she was a doctor and that she’d given you pain pills and that it appeared you were going to be okay, but you might need to see your own physician in the morning.”
Ethan felt great relief that the doctor had indeed been here, that she’d been real. The news settled something in him, and it also made him more curious about her. “She’s a guest?”
“Not that the maid knew of. The doctor just told them to check on you. She mentioned the mess in the living room and on the deck, and that she thought you’d sleep through the night.”
“What’s her name?”
“Well, Estelle didn’t know at first, but then a local woman, Sylvia something or other, who’s here helping with the reception seemed to know her. She called her Morgan, and Estelle said they talked as if they were old friends.”
This was taking too long. “Who is she?” he asked.
“I’m getting to that,” James said patiently.
“Then do it.” Ethan headed for a room to the right that was set up as an office for him. He sank down in the swivel leather chair, propped his cast on a low footstool James had found for him and didn’t touch any of the computers or reach for the phone. James hung out by the door. Ethan looked right at him. “You know, I hate this about you. You hold on to information as if it’s gold.”
James just grinned. “I like knowing something you don’t,” he murmured.
Ethan picked up the crutch he’d laid against the desk and mimed holding it like a spear and aiming it at James. “Come on. I’m in no mood for games.”
“Okay, okay,” James said as he held out his palms toward Ethan in surrender, and the crutch went back to leaning against the desk. “Her name’s Morgan Kelly.” He paused, waited and when Ethan didn’t show any sign of recognition, James continued. “She’s the daughter of the local doctor.”
With the nudge of the name given to him, he had a vague memory that the doctor had a kid. He’d never paid any attention to her. “She’s practicing here?”
“Seems she’s covering for her old man, who is on a vacation somewhere south of here. She’s staying until after the holidays, then is returning to her real job.” James stopped and Ethan didn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what her real job was. With a sigh, James finally gave in. “She works at a free clinic in Seattle down by the docks.”
“Is that it?”
James shrugged. “That’s about it.” Then he did an abrupt change in the conversation. “They’re having a bachelor party for Joey next Wednesday. In a week. I told them I’d let you know.”
A bachelor party? God, who would have thought that Joseph Lawrence would even consider marriage again after the mess that had been his first marriage? It was strange the twists and turns life took. Hell, Joey was getting married, and old Dr. Kelly’s kid had walked into his life out of the blue. He chuckled softly to himself.
“What’s so funny?” James asked with a raised eyebrow.
Ethan ran a hand over his face, then rested his head back on the leather of the chair support and sighed. “Life.”
James didn’t ask for any clarification of that one word, but said, “Ring if you need me,” before taking off.
Ethan heard his retreating footsteps on the wooden floor, and called out, “Tell Isabel to bring down breakfast in about an hour.”
“You’ve got it, boss.” The other man returned. “Any other orders?”
He hesitated, then said, “Find out an address for Dr. Kelly’s daughter…so I can send a payment for services rendered.”
“Sure thing,” James said without bothering to hide the chuckle in his voice at Ethan’s choice of words.
MORGAN SAT in her father’s office in the old building where he’d practiced medicine on Shelter Island for as long as Morgan could remember. It looked the same—cluttered, worn and comfortable—but now it seemed so small to her. She couldn’t remember ever thinking that until she’d come back this time. The huge desk took up most of the space, and sagging shelves of medical books took up the walls. Morgan exhaled and tipped back in the swivel chair, turning it enough to see out the single window to her left.
The building was on the water side of the main street of Shelter Bay, with her dad and mom’s house in back. Across the street, there was a series of specialty shops that had sprung up since she’d last been home. The offices had a side view of the bay, but the house had one that came close to being as good as any on the island. Not as spectacular as those views from the Grace estate, but pretty impressive nonetheless.
Her last appointment of the day had left and it was late, almost six o’clock. Rain came down in mists, driven by the wind skimming in over the rough waters of the sound. She’d thought about Ethan Grace off and on during the day and had even considered calling the estate to make sure he was okay. Then she remembered the woman she’d finally found at the main house and her assurances that “Mr. Grace would be well taken care of.” That someone called James would take care of everything.
Ethan Grace had a staff and he had money, which was certainly more than she had. She was the lone doctor on the island right now, and as far as money went, if she had enough she would have helped her father update his equipment, and maybe figured out how to start a four-bed clinic that he’d only dreamed of for years on the property next door. There was no hospital on the island, and when a medical emergency came up, patients were transported either by ferry or by helicopter to the mainland. Sometimes that wasn’t good enough. Her father, a pure idealist, dreamed of being able to offer decent emergency care. She’d never understood how he could, given the money it would take to build the clinic, but he’d never given up on the idea over the years.
Dreams came easily, but reality with her father was another matter. She’d always known she’d come back here sooner or later to help her father and possibly take over for him. Somewhere in the future, the very distant future. Having the new clinic would be terrific, if it could happen. Until then, they had to make do with what was here, but she knew her father wasn’t at all comfortable with the current limitations of his equipment and facilities. She wouldn’t have been, either, if she’d had to practice here instead of just visiting.
More staff would have been nice, she thought as she sat forward and reached for the thick stack of mail that had been piling up over the past few days. She sorted through the envelopes, more than aware that quite a few were bills. A couple could have been payments, but a certified letter that Sharon Long, her nurse/receptionist, had signed for that day stopped her. Morgan noted the return address, E.P.G. Corporation, Development and Acquisitions Division, along with a Seattle address that she knew was in the business district. She hesitated before she finally opened it and scanned the correspondence.
It was a very formal letter with wherefors and forthwiths sprinkled liberally through it. From what she could gather, the lease on the building that housed her father’s offices and all other structures wouldn’t be renewed in March. Her throat tightened. Their home was included. She was stunned. She’d never known that her father rented the property. He’d built the offices, she thought, or maybe that was just what she’d assumed. Maybe they’d been there when they moved here and he fixed them. She didn’t really know; she’d been a baby when he’d opened the offices.
Morgan stared at the letter, but the words didn’t change. The E.P.G. Corporation was putting her father out. She knew that he couldn’t have known about this before he left last week. If he had, he never would have gone, and he wouldn’t have talked about the possibility that the land next to them might be going up for sale in the near future. “We just have to get the money,” he’d told her the night before he left.