Lee ushered his parents in to take the cushioned settee, and he and Marcelle sat on the outside. He knew this was his girlfriend’s preference. It gave her more mobility to get up and hug friends who happened by.
“It was so lovely of Marcelle to call and invite us,” Barbara said as soon as they’d ordered appetizers.
Marcelle had invitedthem?
Lee took a sip of his gin and tonic before looking back at his girlfriend. She wouldn’t meet his eye. Instead, she unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap.
“Well, we had lunch together today, and—” Marcelle started.
“You two had lunch?” Lee blurted, surprised. He glanced across the table. His stepmother wore a tight smile, but instead of looking at him, she gave Marcelle an almost imperceptible nod.
“We did,” Marcelle confirmed, glancing up at him before arranging the silverware in front of her. “And we got to talking about Dr. Maraist’s offer.”
“Oh, really?” Lee felt the skin beneath his collar prickle with heat. He looked around the table at everyone watching him, and he only then understood he’d been set up. “I see.”
His father gave him a consoling smile. “Leland, we all know how hard you’ve been working, and we just want to make sure that you give Philip’s offer the right amount of consideration.”
Philip Maraist had a well-established OB/GYN practice with four other partners, and he was one of Dr. Thomas Hawthorne’s golfing buddies. When the doctor had invited Lee and Marcelle to sit at their table at the auction, Lee should have seen what was coming.
“I know it’s a good offer, Tom,” Lee said, meeting his father’s eye. “I told Dr. Maraist I needed to think it over. I’m not sure that a traditional practice is where I want to be right now. I’m really enjoying my time at UMC. I feel like I’m making a difference.”
“But The Pavilion at LGMC issonice,” Barbara said, bright eyed. “The facilities are state of the art, and they don’t have the same kind of staffing shortages…”
“Yeah, B, I know. I do a week’s rotation there every month.” Lee clamped his mouth shut and breathed for a five-count. It wouldn’t do to get angry. Barbara had been married to his father for thirteen years; he knew she meant well, but sometimes she tried too hard to fill the space his mother left empty. Lee took another sip and was relieved when their server approached with the eggplant miso and gyoza. “This looks delicious.”
He unwrapped his chopsticks and hoped that they could drop the subject of where he’d go after his residency. For months, he’d been thinking about staying on at the charity hospital instead of joining a private practice. He’d only mentioned it to Marcelle recently, but she’d obviously shared the unpopular idea with his parents.
Lee scooped up a bite of the fried eggplant and shrimp soaked in sweet miso sauce. He almost moaned aloud when it touched his tongue. The combination of flavors was mind-blowing. He grabbed another shrimp, realizing that he was ravenous.
Because you gave your snack to Wren Blanchard.
The thought made him smile. He looked down at his watch and saw that it was just after eight. He hoped she’d eaten her Chinese takeout by now. Lee felt his shoulders relax a little.
“Well, I’ve known Philip Maraist for a long time,” his father started up again. “I’m sure you’d have plenty of opportunities to do things like Doctors Without Borders if you wanted to keep giving back.”
Lee gave a tight nod. “He mentioned that.”
“Yes! We sat with him and his wife at the fundraiser Wednesday night,” Marcelle rushed in. “She was absolutely lovely.”
“If you joined his group, you’d have all sorts of opportunities,” Barbara added, her light brown eyes going wide with the possibilities.
“It’s important at this point in your career to think of the future,” his father said. “Your earning potential with a group like Philip’s will be more than double what you’ll make if you join the staff at UMC. And that’s just in the first five years.”
“Yeah, thanks, Dad. I’m aware.” He pulled the menu closer to him. “I think I’m going to get a Grand Isle Roll, a Michael Doumit, and a Tiger Tail. What about you, Marcelle?”
Lee heard the clipped tone in his voice, and by the alarmed look in Marcelle’s eyes, so had she.
“Um… I’m thinking about the Thai Beef Salad… and maybe another cosmo.”
Lee nodded. “Yeah, I could use another drink, too.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
LAURIE WAS MAKINGher hair fluffy with the blow dryer. Wren sat at the foot of their bed and watched. Every few minutes, Laurie would turn and tickle her face with a blast of hot air, and Wren would laugh.
Laurie put away the blow dryer and ran a brush through her hair. It was the color of shiny pralines, like the ones Mamaw Gigi made at Christmas. Wren was thinking about the way Mamaw’s sugary treat dissolved in her mouth when Laurie put down her hairbrush and turned to face her.
“Wrennie, do you ever wish you had a daddy?”
