Page 61 of Love Me Sweet

He grimaced. “I forgot to silence it.”

But when he pulled the phone from his pocket and his thumb moved to silence, he paused instead, frowned, before bringing the phone to his ear. “Dr. O’Shea.”

Not sure if this conversation was something she should overhear, Sylvie moved to the hors d’oeuvres table to study the selection. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but it always paid to study the competition.

She’d just selected a grilled scallop wrapped in prosciutto when Andrew walked up. The light that had been in his eyes only moments earlier had vanished.

Without thinking, she held out the appetizer. “Want a bite?”

He shook his head.

Neither did Sylvie, not anymore. Since she’d taken it, other than tossing it into the trash, the only other option was to eat it. She popped it into her mouth, chewed and quickly swallowed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, when they began to walk.

He still hadn’t said a word. The muscle in his jaw worked.

“It’s nothing.”

“That kind of ridiculous answer never works with you, and it doesn’t with me either. I know something isn’t right.”

The remark earned a nod.

“Fern, Mrs. Whitaker, she died.” His voice wavered for a second then steadied. “Seth called to tell me.”

Seth Carstairs, his associate back in Boston.

Slipping her arm through his, Sylvie gave it a sympathetic squeeze. “I’m sorry. I know how much she meant to you.”

“She was eighty-nine.”

“Yes, and she was your first patient. She was special.”

“I prefer not to discuss her right now.”

Sylvie didn’t press. She knew how hard it could be to have emotions near the surface that you needed to keep under control. But tonight, when they were home, she’d comfort him.

Because he’d taught her that’s what you do when someone you love is hurting.

* * *

“Tell me about Mrs. Whitaker.” Sylvie waited until the valet had pulled the car around to ask.

“What do you want to know?” Andrew handed the young man a couple of bills and in less than a minute they were gliding down the highway.

It was a dark night, with only a sliver of a moon. The highway was surprisingly deserted and the headlight beams were the only light slicing the blackness.

Though Sylvie couldn’t see Andrew’s expression clearly, the tight set of his jaw and the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel told her emotion simmered just below the surface.

“What was special about her?” Sylvie cocked her head. “It wasn’t simply that she was your first patient when you opened your concierge practice.”

That may have been part of it, but Sylvie didn’t believe for a minute that was the whole of it.

“She lived down the street from my parents’ home.”

“You knew her when you were a little boy.”

His fingers on the steering wheel relaxed. “Her children were older and they’d all moved away. Her backyard had this huge Oak tree with a wooden playhouse. You had to climb a ladder and then part of the tree to get to it.”

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