The Baby Doctors

“Sleeping,” Lucy said.

“Hon, it’s nearly noon.” As soon as she said it, Elizabeth wanted to take the words back. Everything she said these days made Lucy mad. Being around her was like walking on eggshells. “Why don’t you get dressed and come down here and I’ll make you lunch.”

“Can I come down without getting dressed?”

“Huh? No, I—”

“Joking, Mom,” Lucy said, as if Elizabeth was a child. “I think I would have figured out that I needed to get dressed first.”

Elizabeth felt tears prickle in her nose. Lucy would never talk to Matt like that. Lucy respected Matt, that was the truth of it. And she didn’t respect her mother. She blew her nose. “Okay, suit yourself.”

Through the row of spider plants in macramé hangers that separated the kitchen from the dining room, she could see the guy had finished his breakfast and was looking around the way people did when they wanted to pay their bills.

“I gotta go,” she told Lucy.

“You here visiting?” Elizabeth asked the man as she filled his cup again. He wasn’t one of the regulars, no one she’d seen around town.

“Just for a couple of days.”

“Vacation?”

“I’m a reporter for the Seattle Times. Doing an article on the goings-on at your hospital. Compassionate Medical Systems coming in, shaking things up.” He took a sip of his coffee. “How do you feel about it?”

“I’m all for it.” Elizabeth leaned against the edge of the booth. “My ex is a doctor at the hospital and he’s working himself to death the way things are now. I hear if Compassionate Medical Systems comes in, they’ll bring in more doctors. There’s even talk about building a new hospital, which, God knows, we could use. I was born in that place and I don’t think it’s been remodeled since.”

“Your husband is a doctor there?”

“Ex.”

“What does he think about it?”

“Oh…” She shrugged. “He’s one of those idealistic types. He’d rather work himself to death than bend. But if enough people want it, I don’t think he’ll have much choice.”

She set the check on the table in front of him, and after he left, she went back to the kitchen for a rag and wiped down the already clean tables. Then the door opened on a gust of cold air and a woman came in. Navy sweat suit and baseball cap. No jacket, which meant she was a tourist not used to the local weather. The woman looked at her and then they both did a double take.

“Sarah?”

“Elizabeth! I didn’t know you worked here.”

And then there was an awkward moment when she could see Sarah didn’t know whether to hug her or not, or maybe it was her feeling that way about Sarah who she’d never exactly been on hugging terms with, mostly because Sarah wasn’t the hugging type. But then they both moved forward at the same time and wrapped their arms around each other like long-lost friends.

“I feel bad we haven’t got together since you’ve been back,” Elizabeth said, which wasn’t exactly true, but what the hell. “Every day, I think, okay, I’ve got to call Sarah, but you know how it is.” She plucked at the arm of Sarah’s sweats. “You look frozen to death. How come you’re not wearing a jacket? This is Washington, not…wherever you were. Where was it? Matt told me once, but I forget. Wait, wait, don’t tell me. Panama.”

Sarah smiled. “Nicaragua.”

“But weren’t you in Panama? I remember Matt saying something about the canal.”

“I flew into Panama City.” Sarah pulled off the baseball cap, blew into her hands. “And then I went to Nicaragua.” She glanced around. “I had no idea you worked here,” she repeated. “This was my favorite place as a kid. It was a big treat to come here for breakfast before we caught the ferry.”

Elizabeth smiled. Sarah hadn’t changed a whole lot. Same reddish hair that always looked like someone had taken an electric mixer to it, fuzzy and flyaway. Maybe a few wrinkles, but who didn’t have those? And she didn’t look like she weighed any more than she had in high school, which was more than she could say about herself.

“So, you going to have breakfast?”

Sarah seemed to be thinking it over, then she smiled and sat down in one of the booths by the window. “Sure. Why not?”

The phone by the cash register rang.

“The Landing,” Elizabeth answered.

“I’m sorry for being mean,” Lucy said.

“Aw, honey.” Elizabeth set down the menu she’d picked up for Sarah. “Are you crying?”

“Yeah. I feel sad.”

“Oh, Lulu.” Elizabeth wiped her own eyes. “How come?”

“I don’t know, I just do.” A pause. “Dad called. He was supposed to take me to the mall to get fabric for my costume and now he can’t go.”

“Well, I can take you. As soon as I get off work. We’ll go to the mall and go to the Olive Garden afterward. Mmm, that artichoke dip you like. And lots of bread sticks? How does that sound?”

“Okay,” Lucy said in a small voice. “But I kind of wanted Dad to take me.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “How come he can’t?”

“I don’t know. Something at the hospital.”

“I’ll talk to him, sweetie—okay?” Elizabeth signaled to Sarah that she’d be right there. “Cheer up.”

She hung up the phone, grabbed a menu and set it down in front of Sarah. She poured coffee without asking because she remembered Sarah had always been a coffee fiend and she was pretty sure that hadn’t changed. “The omelets are good.” She watched Sarah scan the menu. “So are the scrambles. Especially the shrimp and crab.”

Sarah looked up at her and smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

“I’m running the show,” Elizabeth said. “Meaning, I’m the cook, too. Come back and talk to me while I fix your food. Bring your coffee. I think I’ll have some, too.”

She poured herself a cup, got eggs and two stainless steel containers of vegetables she’d chopped earlier and set them down by the stove. “So how were your cheeseburgers last night?” she said as she scrambled the eggs.

“Cheeseburgers?” Arms folded across her chest, Sarah stood off to one side watching. “Oh, Matthew told you—”

“Matthew never tells me anything,” Elizabeth said. “Lucy told me. My daughter,” she added. “Well, Matt’s daughter, too. She’s definitely a daddy’s girl. Twists him around her little finger like he’s made of putty. He probably talked your ear off about her, right?” “We started talking shop,” Sarah said, “and that pretty much took up the evening.” She drank some coffee, set the mug down. “So anyway, how old is your daughter?”

“Fourteen,” Elizabeth said. “And…” She stared hard at the chopped pieces of red bell pepper and onions in the frying pan and then, just like in the Safeway, felt the tears start up. “Sorry. Ignore me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me….”

“Sounds about the same way I’m feeling right now,” Sarah said.

Elizabeth glanced at her, but it had always been difficult to tell what was really going on with Sarah. She slid a spatula under the eggs. “You want cheese, right?” Then, without waiting for an answer, she grabbed the container of grated mozzarella from the refrigerator. “You got any ideas why a girl who is loved to distraction by both her parents would rather have a root canal than spend time with her mother, but thinks her father can do no wrong and goes to pieces when she can’t be with him?”

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