“I won’t walk out,” Harriet said. “I need to be here for Madi.” What she didn’t say was that she wouldn’t have walked out anyway. She tried telling herself it was because she wouldn’t leave anyone in the state Ethan was in, but even she didn’t believe that.
“Hear that?” Susan stood up. “You’re one step lower than a dog in her priorities. When you’re better, you might want to think about that.”
Ethan used language that made Harriet blink.
Susan grinned. “The great thing about the emergency room is that it extends your vocabulary.” She walked to the door. “If you’re worried, call me. I’m only a few blocks away. This is my number.” She thrust a card into Harriet’s hand.
“Thank you.” Harriet followed her downstairs. “So you think it’s the flu?”
“Hopefully. I don’t think it’s anything that requires more than a few days in bed and some antibiotics. Don’t let him order you around.”
“Would you like a drink or something before you leave?”
“By drink, do you mean alcohol? Because I could get behind that idea.”
Harriet removed a bottle of white from the fridge and lifted two glasses out of the cabinet.
The least Ethan could do was provide them both with a glass of decent wine. “You know him well?”
“Yes.” Susan took the glass from her. “He’s the best doctor I’ve worked with. Coolheaded. Smart. His brain works faster than anyone else’s. But those same qualities that make him the best doctor I’ve worked with, can make you want to strangle him outside work.”
Harriet blinked. “Excuse me?”
“He’s used to being in charge. Giving the commands. Sometimes he finds it hard to remember he has left work.”
Harriet thought of the first encounter they’d had and laughed. “That sounds right.”
“He’s compassionate too.” Susan had already half finished her wine. “A lot of doctors in his position get cynical, but Ethan is always the one who remembers there is a person under the problem.”
Harriet had a sudden burning need to find out more about Ethan. “Are you hungry? I made soup.”
Susan stared at her. “You made soup? It’s not from a tin or a carton?”
“Fresh. From real vegetables.”
“Hell yes.” Susan dropped her bag and walked to the kitchen, the wineglass still in her hand. “Do you have any idea how long it is since I had home-cooked food?”
“If you’re anything like Ethan, I’m guessing it’s been a while.” She wondered why it was doctors found it so hard to cook for themselves.
“It’s been too long.” Susan lifted the lid and peered into the pot. “That smells incredible. I’m going to buy a dog and have you come and live with me.”
Harriet grinned. “I don’t do dog sitting.”
“And yet you’re here.” Susan ladled soup into a bowl, and leaned forward to inhale. “Man, that smells good.”
“I’m doing a favor for my client.”
“And is your client the dog or the owner?” Susan put her bowl on the kitchen island and sat down.
“Both, but it’s the dog’s needs that come first for me.” Harriet put a fresh sourdough loaf in front of Susan and sat down next to her. “Originally I was supposed to be walking Madi, but she was very unsettled and almost wrecked the place so Ethan asked me to base myself here.” She told Susan everything.
“So you’ve been living here all week.” Susan finished the soup, eating as if she were starved. “That explains a lot.”
“It does?” Harriet took Susan’s bowl and filled it up again. The loaf of bread she’d baked that afternoon was already almost gone. Maybe she should set up a stall near the emergency room and nourish underfed doctors.
“Ignore me.” Susan all but snatched the soup out of her hands. “So when is Debra back?”
“Next week.” And then she’d be moving out and Harriet would never see Ethan again. It was something she found oddly depressing. “You eat quickly.”