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Her eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me?” she whispered.
A rare smile softened the hard line of his mouth. “The only thing I’m going to say is that you should think about my offer.” The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “Because you’re dressed in street clothes I assume you’ve completed your shift.”
“I have.”
“Then go home, Dr. Wolcott, I don’t want to see you in this hospital for a month.”
Stunned and shocked, Tamara blinked as if coming out of a trance. Not only had Brian called her Tamara for the first time and approved her four-week vacation request, but he’d also recommended her for a supervisory position. Although she was not suspicious by nature, she knew Dr. Brian Killeen hadn’t told her everything. Perhaps, she mused, he’d been promised a position at another hospital. And if he had, then it was most likely Chief of Staff. There was no way Dr. Blowhard, as the E.R. staff called him out of earshot, would accept anything less than chief.
“I’ll see you in a month.” She was going to take him up on the offer to begin her vacation now. It’d been more than a year since she’d taken a day off for personal leave. Half the summer was over and Tamara planned to take advantage of the warm weather to do all of the things she’d put off doing.
Tamara turned on her heel and headed for the elevator that would take her to the lobby where Rodney had promised to wait for her. She found him leaning against the information desk talking to a volunteer. He straightened and followed her out into the early-morning sun.
Reaching for Tamara’s hand, Rodney pulled her along as he whistled sharply through his teeth for a taxi that had just pulled up to the curb in front of the hospital. Opening the rear door, he waited for her to get in before he slid in beside her.
“East Seventh between Second and Third avenues,” she said to the driver as he started the meter.”
Rodney, wearing a baseball cap to protect his hair and face from the sun, placed a knapsack between his feet, then turned to stare at Tamara. “Have you ever walked from the hospital to your place?”
Tamara, who’d closed her eyes, nodded. “I’ve done it a few times. Most times I’m too exhausted to do anything but collapse when I get home.”
“I don’t know how you do it, Wolcott.”
She opened her eyes, staring at his face. It was the color of a toasted pecan. Tamara had known Rodney Fox for more than three years, yet this was the first time she actually looked closely at him, finding him quite nice on the eyes. His face was angular and on the thin side, but his features were delicately balanced. She’d told him that he wasn’t her type, but then again he could’ve been her type if she hadn’t put up a barrier to keep all men at a distance.
It had taken being trapped in an elevator with Duncan Gilmore for her to realize not all men were like Edward Bennett. Rodney’s love life was like a soap opera—there was always drama before he and his girlfriend reconciled. What Tamara found odd was that Rodney had moved out of his own apartment, and she wondered if this break was final.
“Do what, Fox?”
“Work around the clock without falling on your face.”
“You did it when you were on call.”
“I know,” Rodney said, “but that’s when I was a resident. But as an E.R. physician you never catch a break.”
Tamara smiled. “Give me a twenty-minute nap and I’m raring to go again. Working the E.R. is like a rush. I always find myself swept up in the chaos whenever a new patient is brought in.”
“I can think of other things that give me a rush. Like sex,” he added quickly when Tamara gave him a curious look.
She wanted to tell Rodney she didn’t know about that, because it’d been a long time since she’d had sex. The last man she’d slept with was her husband, and at thirty-six years her senior, his sex drive wasn’t what it had been. This suited Tamara because it left more time for her to concentrate on her studies. Weeks would go by before they made love, and when they did she found it satisfying and also gratifying.
“You need more than sex,” she countered.
“Without sex and babies the world wouldn’t need pediatricians.”
“You’re right about that. You can put us out in the middle of the block,” Tamara said to the cabbie, raising her voice to be heard through the Plexiglas partition.
Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Rodney took out a bill and pushed it through the slot. “Keep the change.” He opened the door, got out and helped Tamara. “I’m serious when I say that I’ll pay half your rent.”
Tamara stood on the sidewalk outside her apartment building staring up at Dr. Rodney Fox. “What about your co-op?”
“I’m putting it on the market. I told Isis she can live there until I find a buyer.”
“That may take a while, given the real-estate market.”
“True. But I’m not going to put her out on the street.”
Unlike what Edward did to me, Tamara mused. Rodney deserved more than a woman who used him like a yo-yo. Unfortunately, Isis hadn’t realized what she had. Hopefully she would come to her senses before it was too late.
“Come on, let’s go upstairs. Let me warn you that you’ll get your share of exercise walking up and down five flights. Most of the tenants are thirty-and fortysomething professional couples, which means you’ll be able to sleep during the day. It is usually louder on the weekends, but it’s never gotten so out of hand that the police have to get involved. The inner door is locked at all times, and thankfully there is a working intercom.”
She unlocked the outer door, and walked into a vestibule with a number of mailboxes and an intercom system. “I’m in apartment 5F, which means I overlook the front of the building. The building superintendent is in 1F. His wife is our security,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “She sees everyone coming and going. Don’t be surprised if she asks you what you’re doing in the building.”
Rodney smiled. “What do you want me to tell her?”
“You can say you’re my cousin.”
He angled his head. “We look nothing alike.”
Opening her mailbox, Tamara removed a magazine and several pieces of junk mail. “Okay, Fox. We can be play cousins.”
“Ain’t that just like black folk?” he teased. “I think we’re the only race with an abundance of play cousins.”
Tamara laughed as she closed and locked the mailbox. “You’re right about that.”
Rodney followed her up the first flight of stairs. The smell of disinfectant lingered in the air. “The building is spotless.”
“That’s because Mr. Clifford sweeps the halls every day and mops every other day,” she said over her shoulder. “There’s a door at the end of the hall on the first floor that leads outside where you can put garbage. All garbage must be in plastic bags, or we’ll have to pay a fifty-dollar fine for the first infraction. It escalates with each infraction. I’m thankful we don’t have the dreaded New York City curse of roaches or rodents, and most tenants want to keep it that way.”
“That sounds good to me.”
Tamara reached the fifth floor and turned left down the tiled hallway. It had taken a month for her to get used to walking up the stairs. Not only was the exercise good for cardiovascular conditioning, but she’d also lost weight while toning her lower body.
She’d joined a local health club, but rarely worked out because she never seemed to find the time. However, with a month’s vacation, she planned to visit the club several times each week.
Tamara remembered she’d told Duncan Gilmore that she had little or no time for socializing. But that was not the case now. She had a month—four weeks—to do whatever she wanted to do for herself. She planned to wait a few days, then call to tell him when they could get together for dinner.
She unlocked the door to her apartment and slipped out of her shoes. “Shoes worn at the hospital are left on what I call the quarantine mat.” Tamara pointed to the mat under a table in the entryway. She opened a closet and took out a pair of flip-flops. “You can wear these.” Rodney took off his cap and placed it on the table next to a bonsai plant. She gave him a pointed look. “You can always walk around in your bare feet, Fox.”
Dropping his knapsack, Rodney slipped out of his running shoes, sat down on a straight-back chair with a seat made of rush and slipped on the rubber thongs. He stood up, towering over Tamara by a full head. “What are the house rules?”
Smiling, she stared at the shock of flyaway red curls falling over his forehead. “What makes you think there are any rules?”
His reddish eyebrows flickered. “You’ve already apprised me about the shoes and the garbage, so there have to be other rules.”
“The only rule is that I’m not going to pick up after you. If you mess it up, then you clean it up. And you’re toast if you touch or attempt to water my plants.”
“That’s easy,” Rodney crooned.
“We will see,” Tamara retorted.
Duncan lay on a cushioned chaise on the terrace outside his bedroom, bare feet crossed at the ankles. He’d taken a mental-health day.
The night before he and Kyle had gone over to Ivan’s house after they’d closed their offices. They’d ordered takeout while watching the baseball game. He and Ivan had overruled Kyle, who didn’t want to watch the Mets playing on the west coast, but after downing a few beers it didn’t matter who was playing or on which coast. It was after three in the morning when he and Kyle had got into a taxi to return to their respective homes. The game had gone into extra innings.
Within minutes of walking into his bedroom, Duncan fell across the bed and went to sleep. When he woke the sun was up, and he’d called Mia Humphrey to tell her he wasn’t coming in.
He wasn’t hung over, but it felt good to lie around and do absolutely nothing. There were times when he felt guilty because Viola Gilmore had practically browbeat him by telling him he would amount to nothing if he didn’t take advantage of every minute of the day. His aunt took him on what she’d called a field trip to several blighted neighborhoods to show him burned-out and boarded-up buildings, vagrants and drug addicts standing around aimlessly and men and women who carried all of their possessions with them and slept in doorways because they didn’t have a place to call home. Viola equated laziness with failure, and even at fourteen, Duncan knew he didn’t want to become a failure.
The ring of the telephone disturbed the quiet. Reaching over, he picked up the cordless without looking at the display. “Hello.”
“Hel-lo.”
He listened for the woman on the other end of the line to say something. “I think you have the wrong number,” he said after the seconds ticked off.
“Is this Duncan Gilmore?”
Duncan sat up straighter, trying to remember where he’d heard her voice. “Yes, it is. Who’s calling?”
“Hold up, playa. Don’t you recognize my voice?”
“Tamara? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s Tamara. I…I didn’t expect you to be home at this time.”
“Is that why you called now? Because you were trying to avoid talking to me?”
A soft gasp came through the earpiece. “If I didn’t want to talk to you, Duncan Gilmore, I never would’ve called. In fact, I would’ve thrown away your business card.”
“But you didn’t, and I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Why, Duncan?”
“Because I want to talk to you.”
There came a pause. “What do you want to talk about?” Tamara asked.
“When are you available to have dinner with me?”
“I’m open, Duncan. Any day, any time.”
A frown formed between his eyes. “Did you lose your job?”
“No,” she said, laughing. “I’m on vacation.”
He smiled. “If that’s the case, then what are you doing tomorrow?”
There came another pause before Tamara said, “I have to check my calendar.”
“I thought you said any time, any day.”
“I did, Duncan. I was just teasing you.”
“So,” he crooned, “the doctor does have a sense of humor.”
“Only when she’s not working,” Tamara retorted.
“How long are you on vacation, Tamara?”
“Four weeks.”
Duncan whistled. “I suppose that’s enough time for me to make you laugh.”
“Hold up, numbers man. Don’t get ahead of yourself. I only agreed to one date.”
It was Duncan’s turn to pause. “You’re right. Forgive me for being presumptuous.”
“You’re forgiven, Duncan.”
“Thank you. I have to make a reservation, then I’ll call you back.”
“Where are we going?”
“Sailing.”
“Sailing?” Tamara repeated.
“Yes. I’d like to take you on a dinner cruise along the Hudson River. I can see the ship from where I’m sitting. We can eat, listen to music and, if you want, dance or just take in the view.”
There came a beat. “That sounds wonderful.”
“It should be fun. Give me your number and I’ll call you back.” Tamara recited her number, he repeated it to her. “Hang up, Tamara.”
It took Duncan less than ten minutes to book a reservation. A satisfied smile softened his features when he dialed her number. She answered after the first ring. “I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
“What time do we board?” Tamara asked.
“Boarding is at seven-thirty and the cruise is from eight-thirty to eleven-thirty.”
“What if I meet you at the pier instead of you coming down to get me?”
“No. I want to pick you up, Tamara.”
“How will you get here?”
“I’ll take a taxi.”
“Don’t. I’ll take a taxi to you. Please give me your address.”
