“Oh my God. That’s gorgeous.”

Hollis smiled, pleased that Annie saw the tarnished beauty of the old place. “Well, it was once, and I hope it will be again one day.”

“Are you having it renovated?”

“Nope—I’m doing it myself.”

Annie laughed. “You are a woman of many talents.”

“Not going there.”

“Wise.”

Hollis’s fatigue drifted off on the soft waves of Annie’s laughter. The lightness in her chest was strange, and a little addicting. And Annie was the cause. “I don’t have a lot of time to work on it, so it keeps me pretty busy.”

Annie cocked her head and studied the house. “It looks like you’ve already restored the detailing on the roofline and the front porch.” She narrowed her gaze. “And if I’m not mistaken, that’s original glass in the first-floor windows. You don’t see those a lot anymore.”

“I had to drive around to every estate sale in three states before I found those windows,” Hollis said, “but it was worth it.”

“They really set off the porch. The hardware on the door is Eastlake, isn’t it?” Annie said as they walked up.

“Good call.” Hollis swung open the scrolled wrought-iron gate leading to the random flagstone walkway she’d placed to the front porch, surprised by Annie’s comments. Most people were more drawn to superficial glitz and modern elements, buying historic homes and modernizing them in ways that destroyed the integrity of the original style and design. The average person would never notice that. They might just sense that the house seemed devoid of character, and that, in her opinion, was almost always because all the subtle details that defined a particular era were missing. She’d spent an entire weekend hunting for a doorknob that suited the size and design of her heavy oak front door. “You seem to know quite a lot about that sort of thing.”

“My father is a cabinetmaker. I used to watch him work and he’d tell me the stories he saw in the wood.”

“Did he teach you to work the wood too?”

“No,” Annie said abruptly. “That was for the boys to do.”

“Ah. I wanted to be a firefighter like everyone else in my family, but my dad wasn’t so keen on the idea.” Hollis sensed there was more to Annie’s story than just the gender divide, but she didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. What she wanted was to hear her laugh again.

“I’ve always loved architecture,” Annie went on in the sudden silence. “I think I was drawn to the intimate connection between form and function—a well-designed building should allow for smooth flow and seamless function without ever making it noticeable.”

“I agree with you.” Hollis unlocked the door and held it open. “Me, I just like to look at them, though. I like how all the parts make a beautiful whole. A lot like babies.”

“How whimsical.” Annie smiled. “And how sweet.”

Hollis flushed. “Well, let’s keep it our little secret, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“My lips are sealed.” Annie laughed and shook her head. Hollis made her behave very foolishly, and the oddest thing was, she was enjoying herself. “I can’t believe I actually said that.”

“You did, and now we each have a secret to hold. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“It’s a deal.” Annie followed Hollis down the wide central hall, trying to catch glimpses into all the rooms they passed. As she took in the gleaming woodwork and antique light fixtures, she wondered how she had gone from untamable anger to this easy camaraderie.

“Well, let’s see if I can win more favors with breakfast.” Hollis smiled, a lock of dark hair falling in her eyes. “Hungry?”

“Yes,” Annie said slowly, realization dawning. Hollis Monroe was charming. Charming and intriguing and unexpectedly sweet, a combination of traits Annie found hard to resist. The understanding came to her with a sudden memory of herself a decade ago, caught in the spell of another handsome charmer. She hurried to catch up to Hollis, feeling her control settle firmly into place. Now that she recognized what drew her to Hollis, she could be more careful.

*

Hollis pointed to a high wooden stool next to the counter. The large kitchen faced the back porch and yard beyond. “Have a seat. This won’t take more than a few minutes.” As she spoke, she extracted ingredients from the large refrigerator tucked into an alcove next to the breakfast nook. From there, she passed ingredients onto the small table in front of the bay windows.

“You must have taken out a wall in here to get a kitchen this size,” Annie said.

“I did. There was a butler’s pantry where this alcove was, and I had to sacrifice something in order to get enough counter space. Since I didn’t have a butler, I figured it wasn’t a big loss. You think it works all right?”

“I do. I think the size of the room still fits with the interior layout, but there’s plenty of work space and that window overlooking the yard is especially nice.”

“Good.” Hollis hadn’t entertained before and only her family had seen the house. Annie’s remarks made all the hard work worth it.

“Can I do anything?”

Hollis shook her head as she assembled ingredients. “No, but I forgot to ask if you wanted coffee.”

“I’ve already had more than my quota for the day. Would you happen to have sparkling water?”

“In the fridge.” Hollis inclined her head. “If you don’t mind, you’ll find a few bottles of Saratoga water. You can open one for each of us.”

Annie jumped off the stool and retrieved the water from the fridge. She twisted off the tops and set one of the bright blue bottles next to Hollis. Sipping the effervescent water, she watched Hollis, relaxing despite her vow to remain on guard. Hollis worked quickly and efficiently, no surprise. She sliced mushrooms and broccoli with precise, swift movements, grated cheese with a few long, even strokes, and mixed it all together with eggs she whipped in a crockery bowl.

“Do you operate like you cook?”

“Hmm?” Hollis shot her a questioning look.

“Fast and efficient?”

Hollis grinned. “I don’t do any general GYN surgery, so when I do operate it’s almost always an emergency. So I guess the answer is yes. Speed and efficiency on my part means a better outcome for mother and baby.”

“I can’t help thinking it must be a little bit of a letdown to have to deliver the baby surgically. I mean, I love that moment when the baby emerges and I can lift her up and pass her onto the mother’s breast.”

Hollis stopped chopping and regarded Annie contemplatively. “What do you think is the most exciting moment in a delivery?”

“That’s a very difficult question. I think mothers really remember—”

“I meant for you.”

Annie drew a breath and took her time. She didn’t feel as if she was being tested, but the question tested her nevertheless. How much of every birth was for her? How much of what she did was about her personal pleasure, and not the patient’s? Questions she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer. But, in the interest of their fragile truce, she tried. “For me, the greatest joy is when the baby takes his first breath. Then I know my part is over and the rest of his life is about to begin.” Hollis was watching her intently, and she wondered what her answer revealed about her. “I don’t imagine you have an opportunity to savor the birth, do you? When you’re operating?”

“Most mothers come to me because they have complications or are at risk to develop complications, so a large percentage of my births are surgical. You’re right about that.” Hollis fired up the gas flame under the cast-iron skillet. “But, believe it or not, I do more vaginal deliveries than C-sections.”

That wasn’t a topic Annie wanted to reopen just now. She was enjoying their unexpected connection too much to spoil it. “So? What do you like best?”

“I guess when it’s all over, and I know I’ve done the best I can do and both of them are okay.” Hollis shrugged. “Guess we’re not so very different after all.”

“Maybe not.” Annie rose to take one of the plates with the perfectly turned omelet and half a toasted bagel. “But then, we haven’t even begun to find out, have we?”

Chapter Six

At the sound of a familiar voice just outside her cubicle, Honor paused in the middle of giving discharge instructions. The deep, throaty timbre was unmistakable and never failed to stir her. Refocusing on her young patient and his mother, she said, “And no swimming while that cast is on, all right?”

“What will happen?” the six-year-old asked, his eyes alight with some inner vision Honor was afraid to contemplate. She sensed a wily mind at work.

“The cast will fall off and your mom or dad will have to bring you back here so I can put on a new one.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Not if the cast stays on. Your wrist needs to rest so it can heal.”

“Like a nap?”

“Sort of.”

“I’m too big for a nap.”

“I see that. Which is why we made it so just your wrist can sleep.”

“I almost made it to the top of the jungle gym. Julie and I were racing. She usually wins but I’m getting faster.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Honor saw the mother’s resigned shake of her head and sympathized. “I imagine you’ll catch her one day soon, but no climbing until you’re better. You need two hands on the jungle gym, right?”

“Yeah.” His bright, lively eyes scanned the room as if searching for new challenges.

“Okay, we’re done.” She smiled at his mother. “He should be fine tonight. If his fingers swell more than they are now or the cast starts to look tight, you should bring him back so we can adjust it.”

“Does he need a sling?”

“The nurses will give him one when you leave,” Honor said, “but don’t rely on it. Just remind him not to dangle it, and prop his forearm up on a couple of pillows when he goes to bed.”