Emergency Engagement

She tried to inch by him and stopped. “It’s paid for. I have to go.”

“Don’t we need to tip you?”

“Not unless you’re giving me the five hundred dollars you cost me Saturday night.” Beth marched forward, this time more determined to get through. “Now, I must leave. As I’ll already be homeless tomorrow because of your meddling, the last thing I need to do is lose my job on top of everything else. Besides delivering food I bake pies and cakes, and I’m way behind schedule. So please…” She gestured toward the door.

Quinton stepped aside and let her pass. A moment later she was gone, once again having walked out of his life.

The office manager approached. “Who was that?”

“Your food’s here.”

His office manager cocked her head. “Oh. She’s not the usual delivery girl.”

So Beth didn’t deliver food? Maybe she did bake. And had she said she’d be homeless tomorrow? A gnawing began in Quinton’s stomach as he remembered the eviction papers.

“Tell me, where did you order from?”

“Luie’s Deli. Canal Street.”

“Great,” Quinton said. He started for the exit. He had a break between patients and if he hurried he could catch her and—

“Dr. Searle.”

“Yes?” He turned back around. A receptionist stood there.

“Your mother’s on line three. Says it’s urgent.”

“Thank you,” Quinton said. His errand would have to be delayed. Mrs. Quinton Frederick Searle III—or Babs, to her friends—always indicated urgency whenever she called. Being a doctor’s wife herself, she was a pro at working the system.

Quinton knew that the only urgency his mother had was to see him wed.

In his office he picked up the phone. “Mom,” he said by way of greeting.

“Quinton! I was worried you were too busy.”

“I’m on my lunch break.”

“I’m not keeping you from eating, am I?”

Not unless she got long-winded. “No, I have a few minutes.”

The requisite sigh. “Oh, good. You do remember Shelby and I will be there this weekend, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Super. We have some shopping to do. Unfortunately, Susannah won’t be able to make it. You have asked her to wedding, haven’t you?”

Susannah Joelle Phelps was his family’s handpicked wife candidate for him. Twelve years younger than he was, Susie was twenty-three and in the throes of seeing all her best friends marrying. “No, I haven’t.”

“Quinton, please tell me you’re not being rude to Susie. She’s been waiting for you forever, and you’re getting old son, old.”

“I’m thirty-five, Mother, not dead. And don’t worry, I’ve sent my tux measurements already.”

“You better have. The wedding is Valentine’s Day weekend. Don’t even tell me that you didn’t schedule off the week between your father’s and my anniversary and your sister’s wedding.”

Quinton kept silent.

“You must be here, Quinton. There are family activities all week and you know your father really wants to talk to you. It’s past time to return home. He’s waited long enough, and, well, I’ve waited long enough. Once your sister is married the next thing on my agenda is organizing your wedding. I just want you happy. Susie and St. Louis would make a good combination.”

“I’m happy here, Mother. And no, with Bill on his honeymoon I can’t get away that week. I’ve already got people covering for me two weekends in a row.”

“Stop hiding away from your family responsibilities. You have obligations. You are a Searle. Have I not raised you right?”

Uh-oh. Here came the lecture. “Mom, my nurse just told me I have ten calls to return. We’ll talk soon.”

“You need to be in the week before the wedding.”

“I doubt that will happen.”

“We’ll talk this weekend. With my heart condition you know I can’t take this kind of stress.” Babs Searle definitely knew how to work the system. She’d always been over the top, a one-woman steamroller. But his father had asked Quinton to go easy on Babs because of her heart condition. And Quinton, although he had no desire to take over his father’s practice, did love and respect his father.

Thus, the words were out of his mouth before he could even think to stop them. “By the way, I’m bringing a date to the wedding.”

“What?” Silence fell as both Quinton and his mother contemplated what he’d just said. “Did I hear you correctly?” his mother finally asked.

Well, in for a penny…” Yes,” Quinton said. “A date. But don’t get your hopes up.”

“So you aren’t serious?”

“Mom, I’m never going to be serious about Susie, either. Stop stringing the poor girl along. Just because all her friends are getting married doesn’t mean she’ll be an old maid. You and her mother can matchmake somewhere else.”

“Humph.” His mother exhaled. “I’m not sure I—”

“Got to go, Mom,” and with that Quinton hung up before she could get in another word.

He looked up to see Larry standing in the doorway.

“You have a date for your sister’s wedding?”

“No,” Quinton admitted. “But I have to do something or she’ll book the chapel and have the bride waiting the minute Shelby’s on her honeymoon.”

Larry grinned. “I still think I have my old black book somewhere if you want.”

“No, thanks,” Quinton said. An idea started forming in his head. He’d cost Beth Johnson five hundred dollars. Well, he had a way for her to earn it back and not have to shuck her clothes in the process. As she was the most inappropriate woman for his parents’ social circle he’d ever met, she’d be perfect for the job. He gave Larry a grin. “Believe me, I’ve got someone in mind who will get my mother off my back and not hassle me for a commitment afterward.”

“Those are the best kind,” Larry said.

WHEN QUINTON REACHED Luie’s that evening at six, the woman behind the counter told him that Beth had gone for the day. Quinton purchased a slice of chocolate cream pie anyway, and ate it before returning to his car. The pie had been sinful, and Quinton resolved to do sixty push-ups, ten more than usual, when he got home that night.

The drive from Luie’s to Beth’s building took approximately twenty minutes in traffic—walking the short distance would have been quicker. Again, someone had left the door unlocked, saving him from having to be buzzed in. He took the steps two at a time to her floor.

Nervousness suddenly filled him as he inhaled a deep breath and knocked.

“It’s open, Ida,” he heard Beth call.

Quinton turned the knob and entered.

The sparseness of the place instantly appalled him. She really was moving; she hadn’t been lying or exaggerating when she’d said she was being evicted. Boxes of stuff lined the walls, and faded rectangles of paint showed where pictures had once hung.

The apartment was tiny, probably one of the smaller units in the building. However the main room faced east, giving him a view of the Loop off in the distance.

“Ida, I’ve got most of everything—” Beth wiped her hands on her jeans as she came into the room. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open when she saw him. She froze. “What are you doing here?”

“Auntie Ida?” Running at full speed, Carly almost knocked Beth over.

Carly managed to dodge her mother, and before Quinton could move forward to steady Beth, Carly had tossed her arms around his legs and had given him a huge hug. “Dr. Searle!”

“Are you all right?” Quinton asked Beth as she steadied herself.

“What are you doing here?” she repeated.

“Checking up on me!” Carly blurted. She hadn’t released her hold on his legs and her baby blue eyes gazed lovingly at Quinton. “I haven’t taken any more medicine, and we’re moving.”

“I can see that. Your mommy told me about it.”

“And I was serious,” she said.

“I know that now,” Quinton said. “Will an apology help?” Her expression told him no. “Where are you going?”

“A special place,” Carly interrupted. “It’s a surprise.”

Quinton reached down and gently detached Carly’s arms from his legs. “I bet it is a surprise. Are you all packed?”

“Almost. Everything is going into boxes except for some of my clothes. And my blankie. Those go in a suitcase.”

Quinton straightened and looked at Beth. She was staring at her child, and the pain in her eyes seared his heart. He’d caused this. She hadn’t been lying. He understood, what Carly didn’t—that her mother had no place to stay.

“What number are you?”

“Three at one place, six at another. But…” Beth pointed at Carly.

“I understand.” Little ears did not need to hear. “Is there someplace we can talk?”

“Here I am.” At that moment Ida appeared, and Beth was never so grateful to see her. “You’ve made some good progress. The movers will arrive at seven and I’ll supervise while you’re at work. You’ll be all gone by Mr. Anderson’s deadline.” Ida paused as she saw Quinton.

Beth wanted to groan at the speculation she saw in her elderly neighbor’s eyes.

“This is Dr. Searle,” Beth offered.

“He saved me from dying at the hospital,” Carly added.

“Well, I…” Quinton began.

“We met the other night but weren’t formally introduced. I’m Ida Caruthers.” She extended her hand and Quinton shook it. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you here to help Beth pack?”

“He’s here—he’s…” Beth found herself oddly relieved when Quinton simply took charge and said, “Ida, would you mind giving us a few moments alone?”

“Certainly. Come on, Carly. I have some ice cream in my freezer and I can’t eat it all.”

“Do you have sprinkles?” Carly asked.

“Oh, I’ll have to see what I can muster up. I may not have sprinkles, but I bet I have chocolate sauce.”

“Yum,” Carly said.

Moments later Beth found herself alone with Quinton.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be.” She was too tired for anger, too tired for anything but bittersweet regret. “I fought the good fight, but no one wins against fate.”

“Maybe you can.”

“No, I can’t. As of noon tomorrow I have to be out of here. I broke down and used the last of my money for movers and a storage facility. How I’ll ever scrape up enough for a security deposit and first month’s rent on a new apartment I don’t know.”

He’d caused this, and his conscience demanded he fix it. “Let me help.”

“You can’t.”

Sure he could. He could solve any problem he set his mind to, except perhaps with his family. “Let me pay your security deposit for a new apartment. I’ll even pay the first month’s rent. You can pay me back whenever.”

“I don’t take charity.”

“It’s not charity. Consider it a loan. A favor. In fact, you can repay me with one.”

Beth shook her head. “I won’t take loans. Not from individuals. They end up being charity. And I dislike favors. They have to be repaid at too high a cost.”

“Yet you’d strip to earn the money.”

“Stripping was work. Not politically correct, but honest. I’m not a hooker and I don’t strip bare. I’ve only done it a few times—a long time ago. It’s quick money. I needed that money. But I waited too long—I didn’t think Mr. Anderson would really evict me, not after the past few years I’ve had.” She swallowed.

She was so tired, so sick of fighting to eke out an existence. Still, she pressed on. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like to be poor, would you? You wouldn’t know how hard it is to put food on the table, to make sure your child doesn’t suffer. You wouldn’t know…” She suddenly saw two of Quinton.

Both Quinton’s spoke. “Beth, you don’t look good. You’re pale and…”

“I’m fine,” Beth said. “I’m just fine.” She was always fine. She couldn’t afford not to be.

And then, as if fate mocked her, the world went black.

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