Daddy's Little Matchmakers. Kathleen Y'Barbo
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A giggle and then she said, “Can I quote you on that, Dr. Wilson?”
“No,” he said a bit too harshly before hanging up.
Later that morning Eric scooped the last pancake off the griddle and added it to the stack. With summer upon them, that meant he could spend the morning with the girls before his mother came to take up her babysitting duties. Even as he grumbled over the embarrassment of the ad, he gave a quick thanks for Mom—whose home was a short three blocks away—as he reached into the pantry for the syrup. Maple for Ella and Hailey, and strawberry for Brooke.
“Girls,” he called as he said a prayer for guidance before their family meeting. “Breakfast.”
Down the hall they came, a scampering herd of pink-clad girls whose giggles and squeals were forever imprinted on his heart. One by one he greeted them and then, with a great show of mock formality, he set their glasses of juice and milk before them.
“Look, Daddy’s using the stick glasses.”
Hailey lifted the glass, a piece of wedding crystal that had been woefully hidden away for special occasions—until this last move. Since Christy’s death, Eric had learned that any day he woke up and put both feet on the floor was a special occasion.
He slid his Bible out of the way and sat the milk carton on the counter. Tucked into the pages of the well-worn book was a neon-green flyer for Starting Over—the new men’s group for widowers that the church advertised last Sunday.
Wincing, Eric recalled sitting through the clever basketball-themed video the pastor had shown last Sunday. While he loved the sport, the idea of getting together with a bunch of guys on Saturday morning to shoot hoops and talk about their grief certainly did not appeal. And even if it did, Saturday mornings were always spent with the girls.
It was their time, and nothing would come between him and his girls. Not even a group that purported to offer help to men stuck in the cycle of grief. If the Lord wanted him at that group, He’d just have to clear the time.
Which Eric knew He wouldn’t.
So he turned his back on the thought and joined the girls at the table. He was doing just fine, and anyone who told him otherwise was just wrong.
“Look, Daddy, my pancakes are pink.”
Eric glanced over at Brooke’s plate and found she’d mixed her milk with the syrup to form a gooey glob of her favorite color. “Nice, Brookie” was all he could manage. No sense in correcting what could become a budding culinary career. “Now tell me how pink tastes.”
“Daddy, Hailey’s making flowers with the syrup again.”
A glance at his middle daughter’s plate confirmed Ella’s complaint. Rather than pour syrup over her pancakes, his artistic child was making elaborate swirls and tiny leaves to decorate what was a garden of floral delights. All while her older sister waited for her turn at the syrup bottle.
“I’m just getting it right, Daddy,” she said. “I don’t want to mess up the flowers.”
“Enough, Hailey,” Eric said. “Let Ella have—” His cell phone rang, and Eric debated a moment before he reached for it. The clinic. “Dr. Wilson,” he said as he rose to step away from the now-chattering females.
“Hey, Doc,” his receptionist said. “Things have gotten kind of busy and it might be a good idea if you come in earlier than you planned.”
Skipper came bounding in the dog door shaking his wet coat all over the cabinets, the walls and the newly refinished wood floor. “Sure, soon as I talk to the girls and clean up this mess,” he said as he hurried to end the call.
A glance around the room told Eric that the conversation with the girls would have to wait until tonight. Cleaning up the dog’s mess soon turned into cleaning up the girls’ mess and then, after that, to turning on the sprinklers in the backyard and creating a make-do Slip’n Slide out of the leftover plastic tarps the painters left behind. By the time his mother arrived, Eric was covered in pieces of grass and soaked head to toe.
“Well, now,” she said as she wisely stood out of the range of the girls’ splashes. “Is this any way for the town’s most eligible bachelor to behave?”
“Mother, really.” He grabbed a towel off the fence and began to dry off. “Not in front of the girls.”
“What do you mean ‘not in front of the girls’?”
“I mean we’re having a good time.” He looked back to note three sets of eyes staring in their direction. “So leave off with the eligible-bachelor stuff, okay?” he added in a much quieter voice.
“They look awfully happy. You didn’t punish them, did you?” She gave him one of those “Mom” looks.
“Actually I haven’t had a chance to speak to them.” He shook his head. “But no, they won’t be punished. Not since they had you egging them on.”
His mother lifted a silver brow. “Egging them on? Really, Eric, you act as if I’m the only one who wants you to find someone to love.”
“Grammy, come swim with us,” Brooke called.
“Grammy didn’t bring her suit,” she said as she glanced over her shoulder. “Maybe tomorrow morning I can take you all to the pool at the community center. Or maybe to the beach. If it’s all right with your daddy.” His mother turned her attention to Eric. “You didn’t have anything planned for tomorrow morning, did you?”
“Tomorrow morning?” His heart sank. “No,” he replied weakly. “Just spending time with the girls like we do every Saturday. I suppose we could go to the pool.”
“Looks like you just spent the morning with them, Eric.” Mom gave him her most radiant grin. “And no offense, but I was hoping to make this a girls-only morning. Maybe go get our nails done and our toes painted afterward. Is that awful?”
“No, it’s fine,” he said as three girls began to cheer. “Great.” His mother clapped her hands. “I had hoped to take them to breakfast, too. So, I’ll be here around seven-thirty. Is that too early?”
“Too early? No, I don’t suppose.” Especially since the men’s group meeting began at eight.
“Well, go on and get ready for work, then,” she said brightly as Hailey called for her. “Grammy’s got it covered out here.”
Eric reluctantly complied, grumbling his way through his shower, getting dressed and then making the short commute to the clinic. As was his custom, he pulled around to the back only to find there were no empty parking spaces.
“That’s strange,” he said as he drove around to the front of the building only to see the parking spaces on Main Street filled, as well. Across the way, the Gazette’s parking lot was also at capacity. “Must be a sale going on over at the shoe store.”
He finally found a parking spot down at the Vine Beach Public Library some three blocks away. By the time Eric reached the front door, the Texas sun had begun to toast the back of his neck and his shirt was soaked. He was, quite literally, hot under the collar and beginning to steam.
Before he could wrap his fingers around the knob, the door flew open. “Thank goodness you’re here, Doc,” his receptionist said. “I didn’t have a clue what to do with all the calls for appointments.”
“Appointments?” Eric walked in to find the tiny office filled with pets and their owners, the great majority of whom were women. All chairs were occupied and a woman in tight jeans holding a mewling cat in a hot-pink cage leaned against the opposite wall.
“Hello, Eric,” she said when she met his gaze.
Eric? He nodded in greeting then stepped around her. The phones were ringing and the crowd at the front desk was three deep. A teacup Chihuahua shivered violently, it’s diamond-studded collar sending rainbow