Could Be Something Good Page 2

  Daniel grinned and shut the door quietly. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who wanted to talk to Winnie.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND this, Winifred.” Her mother sighed from her bedroom doorway. “You’ll save a considerable amount of money if you continue to live here.”

  Winnie set her stack of neatly folded sweaters into a hard-sided blue suitcase, then bent to retrieve a pair of flip-flops that had fallen off the bed, but her hands groped fruitlessly under the pinstriped pink dust ruffle.

  “You’re only going to be here until the fall. What’s the point of moving now, just to move again?”

  There was no point in responding, thought Winnie. It wasn’t really a conversation, just another lecture she was required to attend. Still, she tried to listen politely instead of rolling her eyes; it only made the lecture longer, and she considered herself too old for such teenage antics now that she was over thirty. Feeling for the shoes under her twin bed with no success, she finally knelt and lifted the dust ruffle to look. Dusty, but otherwise fine, her sandals sat between her MCAT study prep book and the flute case she hadn’t touched since senior year of high school. No reason to take either of those.

  “I’ll be closer to the hospital.”

  “The drive is exactly the same,” her mother replied, her silk blouse rustling as she crossed her arms.

  “Yes, but it’s a shorter distance. Better for the environment.”

  Her mother owned a Prius, which was ridiculous considering the likelihood of snow in the foothills of the Cascades, and Winnie hoped this last argument would distract her from asking again about her motivations for moving.

  “How did you find this person again?”

  Winnie stood up and folded a pair of leggings that had gotten mussed. “This person? Her name is Ainsley Buchanan, and she’s an elementary school teacher. There was a post on the bulletin board at the library. I figure anyone who likes to read can’t be too bad. From our phone conversations and emails, she sounds like someone I’d get along with.”

  “Well, you’re always welcome here.” Translation: I think this is going to crash and burn like the Hindenburg. Still, Winnie did appreciate her mother’s willingness to back her up in the event that this was, in fact, a bad idea.

  “Thanks, Mom.” She gave her a kiss on the cheek as she went to get her shower stuff. “Do we have more boxes somewhere?”

  Sandra Baker, unused to being defied, huffed her displeasure and went to the kitchen to brew herself another cup of coffee, Winnie assumed. Whatever. She was thirty-four now. She didn’t have to listen to everything her mother said. Probably shouldn’t, in fact. But Sandra Baker could be a force of nature when she wanted to be. It made her an excellent doctor.

  When she’d finished packing mostly everything, she poked her head between the French doors of her mother’s office. “Are you going to come meet Ainsley?”

  “Perhaps another time,” her mother said, not looking up from whatever she was typing on her computer. Winnie told herself for the hundredth time that there was no profit in feeling hurt by it.

  “But we’re still having dinner on Sunday?”

  Her mother nodded. “Your grandparents are looking forward to it.”

  “Me too.” She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you then unless we cross paths at work. Love you.”

  She did look up then. “I love you, too, sweetheart.” Her mother got up from her desk and wrapped Winnie in a tight hug. “Be careful, okay?”

  “Always am,” she said, smiling.

  “And you need a haircut.”

  “Got one scheduled for Tuesday if I don’t get called in.”

  Based on her light scowl and previous comments, Winnie knew her mother loved routine too much to ever live by a nurse midwife’s unpredictable schedule. That didn’t matter much to Winnie. Not when she could help someone make their family bigger, share their love with a brand-new person. Make their baby’s arrival into this world as peaceful and joyful and empowering as possible.

  “Just make sure it gets done. Your ends are looking frayed.”

  Winnie touched her hair self-consciously, then with a sigh headed back up the stairs to grab the last of her boxes.

  IT WAS SIX O’CLOCK by the time she’d finished unloading everything at the apartment. She trudged up the stairs with one last load, her quads burning from all the trips up and down and up and down. Thank God for Ainsley’s cheerful insistence that she help, or she’d probably have another hour of work ahead of her. Instead, she could order a pizza for both of them, take a long shower, put sheets on the bed and start organizing her clothes—

  “Knock knock.” A genial male voice behind her made her jump.

  Who just yells “knock knock” instead of, you know, knocking? The door’s already open.

  Ainsley’s face lit. “Hey, you. Come on in. Winnie, this is my friend, Daniel.”

  A nervous shock to her stomach scattered her thoughts of how the evening might go. No, it couldn’t be . . . She turned to see Daniel Durand, the obnoxious interrupter from the hospital. He was wearing another flirty grin, and Winnie glared at him before catching herself. Her new roommate was obviously friends with this man. She’d have to at least try to be civil to him.

  She stuck out her hand. “We met at the hospital. I’m Winifred Baker.”

  “Well,” he said slowly, “we didn’t exactly meet, since you wouldn’t even give me your name.” He was still grinning, so it obviously hadn’t bothered him too much. In fact, he seemed delighted by their interactions. How odd.

  “I apologize,” she said, smoothing her hair back. “I was in the middle of a conversation.”

  “And I probably should’ve waited until you were done. But when such a beautiful woman brushes by me, it’s hard not to want to get her name and number immediately.”

  Winnie pinned him with a hard stare. “Does that work?”

  His smile finally faltered. “Does what work?”

  “That line.”

  “It’s not a line, actually. It’s just the truth.” Now he was the one glaring; much to her surprise, his lips, framed by a neatly trimmed light beard, turned down. She couldn’t help but notice how long his eyelashes were; it was kind of unfair for a man that handsome to have such pretty eyes, too. The hair on top of his head was longer, pulled back into a top knot, the sides undercut in a way she recognized was fashionable. That was a good word for him: fashionable. Dressed in trendy clothes with a hairstyle that required effort, but also the kind of guy who would throw you away the moment he got bored: fashionable. Winnie glanced at her new roommate, who looked truly curious about what was happening here.

  “Well,” Ainsley said, cutting through the tension, “I’m glad you’ve met now. Daniel, were you stopping by for a reason or just being friendly?”

  His smile returned as his gaze fell on Ainsley. “Just being friendly, Slick. Unless you have brownies, in which case I’m here for a sugar hit.” Winnie was having a hard time telling the exact nature of their relationship, but it was nothing she wanted to insert herself into. It appeared he would be around often, at any rate, and though she couldn’t pretend to be excited about that, she didn’t have to sulk over it.

  Winnie started backing toward the hallway. “Well, I have a lot of unpacking to do . . .” It was the truth, after all.

  He stepped forward, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you for real this time, Winifred Baker.”

  She glanced at Ainsley, who was trying to hide her reaction behind her fist: amusement. Pushing her shoulders back, Winnie took his hand and shook it firmly.

  “You too, Dr. Durand.”

  “Other Dr. Durand,” he corrected, grinning, releasing her hand, shoving his own deep into his dark-wash jeans pocket, like he didn’t know what to do with it now.

  She shot him a double thumbs up, then turned and hurried down the hallway. What on earth was that? She’d never done that gesture before in her life, and she sta
red down at her hands, as if demanding an explanation for their strange behavior. Lashes. That’s the explanation. His eyelashes.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DANIEL WAS STILL SCRATCHING his head when he arrived at his parents’ house a few minutes later. The garage door was open, his father’s touring bike still sitting out from a ride earlier, so he let himself in that way. He’d worked earlier, then gone home to shower before heading over to Ainsley’s to check on the new roommate like he’d promised Kyle—and discovered to his delight that the beautiful woman who’d brushed him off, the woman who was his attending physician’s daughter, was also his best friend’s new roommate. His initial thought, that the universe was rewarding his boldness in approaching her early in the week, was quickly replaced with a conviction that it might not be a reward, at least not the quick and easy kind. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly why he liked her; she was beautiful, of course, but she also obviously didn’t tolerate fools. Unfortunately, she’d already classified him as a Grade-A Fool from the moment they met. Well, it was unfortunate, but it wasn’t insurmountable.

  “Knock knock,” Daniel called as he opened the front door and let himself in, wiping his feet on the mat. The rain had just stopped for the first time all day. January was truly the longest month of the year.

  Kyle looked up from the den where he was playing a game of Battleship with their nephew, Cooper. “Well?”

  “Winifred Baker, the midwife. That’s the new roommate.”

  Kyle looked at the ceiling like he was doing math in his head as he considered this. “That should be okay. She give you the cold shoulder again?”

  “Sort of . . .” Daniel smoothed his hair back against his head. “But I think she’ll warm up to me.”

  “Who will?” Cooper asked, looking between his uncles.

  “It’s your move,” Kyle informed the boy. “Still.”

  “That’s really nice of you to play Battleship, Uncle Kyle,” Daniel said, using a tone that reminded him of Ainsley’s teacher voice, as he strolled into the kitchen to find an appetizer.

  “Wasn’t my first choice,” he grumbled. “It was either this or go for another bike ride with Dad, and I hated the first one. Go, Coop.”

  “B3.”

  “You already asked that one. Aren’t you marking your misses?”

  “My misses?” Cooper asked, perplexed. “Why would I mark my . . . oh. Um, can we start over?”

  Daniel chuckled as he went into the kitchen. “Mom?”

  “Just me,” his sister replied, looking up from the book she was reading on her stool at the kitchen counter. He gave Maggie a kiss on the temple, then tugged on her wavy brown braid. It killed their mom that she put so little effort into her appearance, he knew; Daniel secretly admired Maggie for being true to herself.

  “Just you, Eeyore?” he teased, and she rolled her eyes at him.

  “Where’ve you been, anyway?” she asked, slipping a paper napkin on the counter into her book as a bookmark. “I’ve hardly seen you.”

  “I would think junior year would be keeping you plenty busy without your big brother around to entertain you, sis.”

  “Then you’d be wrong,” she said, lifting her chin, and he chuckled so hard, his shoulders shook. He pulled her into a long hug, and she greedily squeezed him back; she’d always been a kid who craved touch. Seemed like his mom never put Maggie down her first two years of life. Even though he was almost ten years older than her, they’d always been the ones subjecting the rest of the family to their aggressive couch snuggling, much to Kyle’s chagrin.

  “Sorry, Mags, I’ve been really busy with my residency. I’ll try to come around more.” She’d never come to the hospital willingly, he knew. Childhood cancer had a way of making hospitals synonymous with hell.

  “I forgive you. I guess.”

  “Canasta later?” he asked, popping an olive from a veggie tray into his mouth.

  “Only if you want to lose,” she said, picking her book back up with a grin.

  His mother came into the kitchen, juggling several bottles of wine. “You’re here,” she said, and delight suffused her face as she gave him an air kiss on each cheek. “Sorry, I heard you calling, but I was on the phone rescheduling Janie Leopold. She has to take her mother to a doctor’s appointment, and you can’t do that if your head is under the hairdryer.” Farrah always assumed everyone wanted the same level of gossip in their lives that her salon clients at Shear Brilliance did.

  “That’s okay,” he said, clapping his hands. “Put me to work.”

  “Your father was supposed to start the grill, but he’s lingering in the shower, apparently. Do you mind?”

  “Nah, I don’t mind. I don’t really need my eyebrows, and I’m sure Kyle will patch me up if any tragedy befalls me.”

  “No, I won’t. I’ve had enough work for this week.”

  Daniel grabbed the long matches from the drawer by the stove and went outside, only to find his oldest brother, Philip, and his sister-in-law, Claire, sitting near the fire pit on the covered patio, hands intertwined.

  “Oh, I see how it is,” Daniel said. “Philip’s already out here, but I get put to work lighting the grill.” Daniel slapped his brother on the back and gave Claire a fist bump. She was five months pregnant, and he carried enough germs around that he didn’t want to risk giving her something he didn’t know he had. “You guys doing okay?”

  “Oh, you know,” she said, rubbing her belly. “Except for the acid reflux, the constipation, and the insomnia, we’re good.”

  “Both of you have that?” Daniel cocked his head as the grill flamed to life. “Phil, are you having sympathetic pregnancy symptoms?” He ducked as his brother threw an outdoor pillow at him, and Claire laughed. “And if you are,” he continued, undeterred, “would you consider coming in to speak to my residency group about the experience?”

  Philip was getting out of the chair to make Daniel shut up when he backed down. “Never mind, never mind!”

  “You’re all talk, baby brother.” Phil smirked, sitting back down.

  “Maybe not all talk,” Daniel said thoughtfully, “but at least 75 percent.” After he lit the grill, he warmed his hands over the fire for a moment. “Why are you guys sitting out here?”

  “It was loud in there,” Claire explained. “Also, someone else is playing with our kid.”

  “Ah.” The sliding door opened, and his dad came outside.

  “Oh good, you’re here,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s go for a quick ride.”

  That was a no-brainer. “Sure!”

  “Wait a minute,” Farrah called from the kitchen. “You just went for a quick ride!”

  “With Kyle, not with Daniel. Kyle doesn’t know anything about bikes. Ten miles tops,” Evan said, grinning, as he dragged Daniel by his collar through the kitchen toward the garage door. Daniel mouthed a quick “sorry” to his mother, who just smiled and shook her head.

  “You’ve gotta try this,” his father said, pointing to the road bike sitting in the middle of the garage.

  “Which one?” Daniel asked, feigning perplexity. “How many bikes is that now? Eight?”

  “I sold two of them to get this one. It’s amazing. Like riding on glass.”

  “Sounds slippery,” Daniel said, crouching down to get a better look at the gears and adjust the seat to his height.

  “I got that,” his dad said, grabbing an Allen wrench off the cluttered tool bench nearby. “Grab a helmet. You’re gonna love it.” Since his own riding gear was at his place, he blew the dust off one of his dad’s loaner helmets and strapped it on. He still had his jacket on.

  They headed out of town going east toward Detroit Lake, but then his dad veered onto a logging road he hadn’t been down before. Daniel breathed deep and slow, letting his lungs fill completely with pine-scented air. The pavement was damp, and the forest seemed to hang on to the wet scent of rain, soak it up like a sponge. Wild rhododendrons, though not in bloom yet, broke up li
ne after line of tall trunks. A break in the forest as they went around a curve revealed the North Santiam River. It was low this time of year, and water frothed and foamed around the large sunken rocks.

  “What do you think?” his dad called over his shoulder.

  “It’s great,” he called back, then realized his dad meant the bike. He chuckled to himself. “And the bike is great, too.” He’d missed his family while he was living in Portland for med school and his first year of residency; he’d missed Timber Falls, too. As far as he was concerned, it was a great place to live at any age.

  His dad was calling back stats about the bike as they went over a steel bridge with crisscrossed beams on the sides, blue-green from oxidation. There was a sign up ahead. His dad usually called those out, since he was leading, but he didn’t seem to see it. Whatever, he could figure this out. Cau-tion. Sure, that made sense. Caution: loo . . . loose g— He sailed past the sign. Given a few more seconds, he would’ve had it. It was harder under pressure, something his second-grade teacher Mrs. Greene never figured out.

  His brain filled in the missing letters with “loose girls,” but he was pretty sure there were no caution signs for those. He turned to look over his shoulder, and sure enough, there was a sign on the other side with the same message. He’d get it this time: loose gr . . . grav . . . He didn’t know if it was his attempts to look over his shoulder that undid his balance, but before he knew it, the tires had slipped out from under him, and he was skidding across the shoulder of the road on his left side. With a shout, his dad jumped off his bike and came running over.

  “Are you okay? What happened?”

  He was still trying to figure that out himself. Disoriented, Daniel tried to sit up, mentally measuring what hurt the most. His hip and hand were scraped, but it was his leg that felt raw and ripped like a rabid dog had gone after it.

  “Just lost focus for a second,” he said, wincing as his dad lifted the bike off his injured leg. Look at that, he thought as he looked around, there is a lot of loose gravel . . . which I would’ve seen if I wasn’t so focused on beating my dumb dyslexia. His dad looked around, his gaze catching on the sign.