Page 4 of Born to Make You Smile

Suddenly, I wondered what kind of function he had to attend. I didn’t want to pry, but my curiosity was piqued.

“Will you be gone all evening?”

“I shouldn’t be too late. Just a dinner. With a friend.” He scratched his forehead.

I stared at him wide-eyed with a grin.

“All right. I have a date,” he admitted.

It was confirmed. His social life was miles above mine. But I was so pleased for him. “Gavin, look at you, that’s great!”

Gavin’s wife, Judy, passed away seven years ago after a grueling battle with cancer. Judy had been a wonderful woman—sweet, kind, caring—and her passing had been extremely difficult, especially leaving two young children behind. My mother took it especially hard as she and Judy had been best friends. I knew no one could replace his beloved late wife, but it warmed my heart to hear he was getting back out there. He deserved to find someone special again.

The man was a catch—for someone his age of course. He was a handsome and talented dentist who owned a successful practice. While a bit dorky, he was kind and charming. And, depending on how you looked at it—as baggage or a blessing—he came with two wonderful and spirited daughters.

Gavin fidgeted in his seat. “I met her a few weeks ago. She’s been divorced for several years and has a five-year-old son and...” He made a face as if to realize he may have been oversharing. “Anyhow, I’m really glad you can watch them. I’ll pay you extra for the groceries and time spent to make dinner.”

I tutted. “No way. Don't you dare.”

***

Including the bit of traffic on our way, it was about a fifteen-minute drive to work. Gavin’s dental practice was in the north part of Toronto, in a prestigious neighborhood known as Forest Hill. He whistled as he unlocked the door and disarmed thealarm system. He was always so nauseatingly sprightly first thing in the morning. On the other hand, I required my coffee fix first.

He held the door open for me, and I thanked him as the medicinal aroma of nitrile, menthol, and cloves—an odor best described aseau du dental office—entered my nose. Artwork in soothing shades of blue and gray adorned the warm cream of the office walls. Two lush planters—which Gavin and I had amusingly named Mandy and Max—sat in the corners of the reception area and brought the space to life. The environment exuded an aura of serenity and calm, like a spa. But it hadn’t always been this lovely. When I started working at Gavin’s practice, the walls had been the color of eggnog, and in my opinion, the outdated artwork belonged in an ’80s museum. Thankfully, Gavin had entrusted me with redecorating, and boy, did it make a difference.

While Gavin walked to his office, I turned on the lights, and the gentle glow illuminated the reception area. With a few tugs of the cord, I opened the blinds halfway, then booted up the main computer. I turned on the stereo system, and a relaxing but somewhat upbeat new age music station filled the office. Making my way to the break room, I started the coffee machine, then put our lunch in the fridge. Today, I brought us a tub of my hearty chicken stew with plenty of vegetables from Gavin’s garden.

While I waited for the coffee to brew, I headed to the treatment room to set up the trays for the day. The first appointment was a standard restoration for our regular patient Bill Salinger.

As I finished setting up and laying out the tools for the cavity preparation, I heard Tina, the receptionist, arrive.

“Good morning, Tina!” I shouted.

She popped her head into the room. “Hi, Grace, how was your weekend?”

“Quiet,” I said. “I read a lot. Watched a movie. Yours?”

“Shuttled the kids around, then spent all weekend listening to my mom lecture me about Fred in angry Portuguese. You know how it is.”

Tina had three children, teenage twin daughters and a ten-year-old son. She had gone through a messy divorce last year with her husband of fifteen years.

I nodded sympathetically as she went on.

“I can't believe she thinks he deserves athirdchance. I’m just so sick of it.” Tina glared at the computer, the color-coded appointment schedule for the day visible on the screen. “Oh God,Bill. Good luck.”

Even with nitrous oxide, Bill was a tense patient, requesting the first appointment of the day to get it over with.

I nodded. “Poor guy is terrified of us sadists!”

Tina laughed.

The coffee was ready, so I poured a cup for Gavin—black, one sweetener, with a splash of cool water—into his blue-and-white University of Toronto Faculty of Dentistry mug. I brought it into his office and placed it in front of him.

“Thank you, love,” he said with appreciation, looking up at me.

Casually, I leaned on the edge of the desk beside him.

“You're welcome, Denis,” I deadpanned.

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