Following Winter's gaze, Casey said, "I'm making the baby a blanket. Mom's helping me." Then under her breath, she muttered, "I'm better at crochet than knitting. Aunt Margaret even said so."

"How's it going with Alix?" Winter asked, directing the question to Susan.

"Jordan was back to give us a report about half an hour ago. Alix is well--and the baby should be born soon."

Just then, as if he'd been summoned, Jordan burst through the swinging doors and threw his arms in the air. "We have a son!"

"A son," Susan echoed. She pressed both hands to her mouth and her eyes instantly filled with tears.

"A grandson," Larry said as though in shock.

"Healthy as a horse, too, if his bellow is anything to go by," Jordan said, his voice elated. "He weighed in at seven pounds, nine ounces."

"August eighth is a great day to be born," Casey said.

"You know anyone born on that day?" Winter asked.

"Alix's baby."

Winter grinned. "Right."

"Do you have a name picked out yet?" Susan asked. Winter remembered that Alix and Jordan had kept their choices a secret, not wanting any pressure from even the people they loved.

Jordan smiled. "Thomas Lawrence."

"Thomas Lawrence," Winter repeated.

"After her brother," Lydia said quietly.

Winter looked at her for an explanation.

"Alix had an older brother who died," Lydia told her. "She named her son after her brother."

Jordan nodded. "And after my father."

"I'm deeply honored," Larry whispered. He seemed very emotional and close to tears.

"When can we see Alix and the baby?" Casey asked, sitting on the edge of her seat. "I want to show her the blanket."

"It'll probably be a while yet," Lydia said. "They need to wash the baby and do some tests."

"Oh."

"You'll have plenty of time to visit Alix later," Lydia promised.

The two of them stood, and Winter did, as well. Susan and Larry hugged Jordan, and Casey and Lydia did, too.

Jordan turned toward Winter, his arms outstretched. "Thank you so much for coming."

"I love Alix," Winter said.

"I know, and you've been wonderful to her. She loves you right back," Jordan said, pulling her toward him. "Thank you all for being here. I'll be sure to tell Alix."

"Please do, and give her my love." She kissed his cheek, then turned and joined Pierre.

Pierre reached for her hand and they walked to the elevator.

It was difficult to leave. Winter glanced over her shoulder and saw Larry and Susan still congratulating their son.

On the way out of the hospital Winter felt euphoric. Pierre slipped his arm around her waist as they strolled toward the parking complex.

"I'm so happy for Alix and Jordan," she said. "Just so happy."

"I am, too." Pierre stopped suddenly and drew her to a halt. "We should have a baby," he said.

"What?" Winter chuckled. "Pierre, we'd want to be married first, wouldn't we?"

"But of course."

"And we'd want to be absolutely certain we were bringing a child into a healthy relationship. A loving one."

"Naturally," he agreed.

Winter looked up at this man she so desperately loved. "Just a minute... Pierre, are you asking me to marry you?"

"Oui. Which means yes, mon amour americaine."

She nudged him. "That much French I know. But Pierre, is this what you want?"

"More than I realized. I want to have children with you, Winter, and to love you with the same love I saw in that young father's eyes. We have some distance to go, but you and me--well, I believe we can do this. Six months ago, six weeks, I could not have said that, but I can now."

Winter flung her arms around his neck. "Yes, mon amour francais, I believe we can."

Chapter Thirty-Six

"She's here!" Linda Barclay said, stepping into my office a week after Harvey had told me about Macy's return. Seven long days. My nurse shut the door behind her, and as if I needed to be informed who she was, added, "Macy's here." "Oh?" I looked up from my half-eaten lunch. I pretended not to be interested. "What does she want?"

* * * * *

The question appeared to confuse Linda. "I don't think she wants anything."

"Then what's she doing here?"

Linda motioned helplessly. "She's here to finish the mural. She's got her paints. Right now she's saying hello to everyone. I...I thought you'd want to know."

"It doesn't matter to me," I said coldly. As for the mural, I'd grown accustomed to seeing it unfinished. It even had a certain appeal that way. I'd come to accept that it would probably stay exactly as it was, and that was fine by me. I no longer expected Macy to finish anything she started. That included the mural and me. This was a pattern; when situations grew too intense or uncomfortable, she simply walked away.

That left a question as to why she'd returned and then the answer came to me. Instinctively, I realized she wasn't back out of any desire to see me. After all these weeks she probably needed the money to catch up on her bills. Accepting that as the most likely explanation, I opened my top desk drawer and pulled out my checkbook.

"What are you doing?" Linda asked suspiciously.

"What does it look like? I'm writing a check for the remainder of what I owe her." I signed my name with a great deal of flair, ripped off the check and set it on the desk. "I'd appreciate it if you'd see that she gets paid when she's finished the mural."

"Michael!" Linda cried, hands on her hips.

She hardly ever addressed me in that tone, and I automatically glanced up. "What?" I asked. Paying a supplier for services rendered wasn't an unusual request.

"You need to give it to her yourself."

"No can do. I have a busy afternoon."

"No busier than usual."

"Fine, have it your way," I said, unwilling to fight about this. "If you won't give her the check, I'll ask one of the others to do it." I refused to be thwarted. I refused to see Macy. I didn't want to speak to her, either.

"She isn't here because of the mural," Linda told me.

I knew otherwise. Remembering how close Macy lived to the edge financially, I was well aware that six weeks without income must have played havoc with her bank account. That check was the sole reason she'd swallowed her pride and walked in here today. If she expected me to make a scene, then she'd be disappointed. Or relieved. I didn't care which. As far as I was concerned, she was invisible.

Rather than continue the argument, I walked out from behind my desk and found the receptionist. "Would you kindly see that Ms. Roth receives this check before she leaves?"

"Ah...sure." Her eyes connected with someone behind me. Linda, no doubt.

I chose to ignore them both. Without another word, I went back to my office, walking directly past Macy. From her position on the floor, paintbrush in hand, she looked up at me. I felt her gaze as powerfully as a caress. It took a great deal of strength to pretend she meant nothing. Once back in my office I closed the door.

My first appointment of the afternoon was with Ryan Clawson, who had an infected big toe. I cleaned it and wrote out a prescription for antibiotics, then wrapped his foot. Taking my pen I drew smiley faces on his other four toes and made up a story about the "Toed" family to keep the boy entertained. Ryan at six had been frightened and nervous, but he'd held up bravely, even giggling at my nonsense. After giving his mother instructions on how to care for his foot, I helped Ryan down from the exam table.

"Who's the lady outside?" he asked, looking up at me. "Nurse Linda?"

"No, the lady painting the wall."

"That's Macy," I said, trying not to grit my teeth. Was there no escaping her?

"She's nice."

Rather than respond verbally, I managed a smile.

"She said you'd help my foot feel better. She said I should be brave and I was, wasn't I?"

"Yes, you were." I was sure this was Macy's way of sending me a message. Well, she could send all the cryptic messages she wanted, but I wasn't responding. I had nothing to say.

"Can I tell her how brave I was?"

"By all means." I held open the door for Ryan and his mother. Without glancing in Macy's direction, I went to the next room, where I was to examine a suspected case of poison ivy.

By the time I'd finished my afternoon appointments, Macy had completed the painting and disappeared, which was exactly what I'd expected. I'd certainly called that one. She'd taken the money and run. No surprise there.

Rather than risk an unintentional meeting, I returned to my office and shut the door once again. It was after five and I was looking over lab results when I heard someone knocking. Assuming it was Linda, I called out, "Come in."

The door opened and Macy stepped inside.

So she hadn't hightailed it out of the office, after all. Leaning back in my chair I feigned irritation. "Yes?" I said shortly. I wanted it known that I wasn't pleased to see her.

She stepped forward and set the check on my desk. "You don't owe me anything."

I wasn't going to be drawn into an argument, and yet I felt obliged to pay her. Picking up the check, I handed it back. "Did I not agree to pay you seven hundred dollars for the mural?"

"You did."

"Then what's the problem?" I wanted her out of my office as quickly as possible. I continued to hold out the check, which she ignored.

"I didn't finish the mural in a timely manner."

"But you did finish it."

"Besides, you made a house call to see Harvey, remember?"

"It wasn't a house call," I insisted. The last thing I needed was my insurance company getting wind of the fact that I'd broken a cardinal rule. My malpractice premiums were already more than my college loan payments had been. I didn't need a rate hike because Macy couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"You held up your end of the bargain. I'm doing the same."

I gestured toward her dismissively, the check still in my hand. "It was nothing. Take this and cash it in good conscience."

"I can't do that."

"Fine, then," I said as though bored. I tore it up and let the pieces flutter into the wastebasket.

Still, Macy didn't leave. She stood awkwardly on the other side of my desk, shuffling her feet nervously while I acted as if she wasn't there. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Was there something else?" I asked, making my voice as flat as I could.

"Ah...Harvey said you stopped by every day for the first week."

I didn't bother denying it. "More fool me."

"Would it help if I told you I was sorry?" She bit her lower lip, something I'd seen her do any number of times. It always made me want to kiss her, to ease away her anxiety. Instead, I looked down at the lab reports on my desk.

"Michael, I really am sorry."

I glanced up then and saw her big eyes staring back at me, silently pleading. I exhaled slowly. "I'm sure you are," I said.