Page 20 of Doctor One Night

But then again, I’ve never been the type to go for much older women, so being cordial and comforting with her is easy since I don’t get the notion that she’s wooed by my looks or youth, either.

Thank God for small favors.

“Hello, young man,” she drawls as I make my way across the lobby. She’s the picture of a quintessential grandmother: prim, proper, and ladylike to a tee. She’s an old school Southern lady in modern times.

“Hello, Mrs. Oppenstar.” I’m genuinely happy to see her. She gives me a wide smile when I approach her.

“Busy day, Doctor Parrish? You were a few minutes late by my watch.”

“It’s always busy when we least expect it, Mrs. Oppenstar,” I reply. “They never let me rest, isn’t that a shame?”

“Indeed, it is. Let me know who to speak for about that.”

She reaches out gently with one hand for a lift. Being a gentleman, I offer her my hand as she expects. I’ve adopted her, in a way, as a sort of surrogate grandmother I never had.

As we walk toward the elevators, she regales me once again with everything that’s been going on in her life. She loves her bridge and her grandchildren. These are subjects she never tires of telling me about.

SEVEN

Frankie

Saturday, May 18

Tupilano Boutique

Mountainbrook Village

3:19 pm

I stand in the middle of the boutique, completely out of my element. The racks of dresses surround me, all draped in silks and sequins, every shade of color imaginable.

Carly is buzzing around, pulling gowns off hangers with the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy store. I, on the other hand, am trying to remember why I let her talk me into this.

“This one, Frankie, you have to try this one!” Carly says, holding up a deep emerald dress that looks like it costs more than my mortgage. She practically shoves it into my arms before I can protest.

“Carly, this is a waste of time,” I mutter, but she’s already moved on, diving into another rack.

Shopping has never been my thing. Spending hours trying on clothes, especially ones that cost a small fortune, seems dirty to me. There are a million better things I could be doing with my time.

Besides, I’m not excited about this fancy party like Carly is. The only reason I’m even going is to woo potential sponsors for the pacemaker trial. That’s it. The thought of spending the evening schmoozing wealthy benefactors is hardly thrilling, but it’s necessary.

Carly, of course, has other ideas. She’s convinced that she's going to meet her future husband—or at least a decent stand-in. She’s boy-crazy, clothes-crazy, and just plain crazy sometimes, but I love her for it. She's good for me in that way.

I catch my reflection in one of the boutique mirrors, holding the emerald dress against myself. It’s beautiful, but I can’t help but think about how many other things I could do with the money it would cost. Still, I know Carly won’t let me leave here without trying on at least a dozen dresses, so I head to the fitting room.

As I step into the dress and pull it up, I have to admit it’s a good fit. The color brings out the green in my eyes, and the fabric clings in all the right places. I glance at myself in the mirror, and just as I’m about to shrug it off, Carly’s pipes up from outside the fitting room.

“Let me see! I know that one’s going to look amazing on you!”

I open the door, and Carly gasps, clapping her hands together. “Frankie, you look stunning! I knew that color would be perfect on you.”

The shop attendant, who’s been hovering nearby, nods in agreement. “Your skin tone is gorgeous, and your hair—so naturally wavy. You don’t need much to look fabulous.”

I smile politely, though inwardly, I’m rolling my eyes. Compliments are nice, sure, but I’m not here to be fawned over. I’m just trying to find something that will get Carly off my back.

As I turn in front of the mirror, Carly leans against the doorframe of the fitting room, watching me with a grin. “You know, Hunter Parrish is going to be at the gala,” she says, her tone teasing.

I try not to let my expression change. “So?”

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