Dr. Finn Gallagher found himself at the clinic on Primrose Lane,
wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
In the seven and half hours he’d been there, he’d seen forty-five
patients. Only five of whom actually had something physically wrong with them.
All five were female and under the age of sixteen. As far as he could tell, not
one of them was interested in marrying him.
The other forty had nothing wrong with them. And, as far as he
could tell, were very interested in marrying him. If they weren’t, their
grandmothers and mothers were. Interested in him marrying their daughters and
granddaughters, that is.
At the beginning of the day, it was kind of amusing, even a little
flattering. But by 10:45 it had gotten old and annoying. It didn’t help that he
kept thinking of the patients he saw while working with Doctors Without
Borders. Those people needed him, desperately. They weren’t fake coughing or
complaining about phantom chest pains. They were sick and hungry, wounded and
scared. They weren’t spoiled and whiny and ungrateful.
He winced at his unflattering characterizations and intolerance.
While there was some truth to his observations, the throbbing ache in his leg
injury was making him grumpy. Knowing his father had been right and Finn wasn’t
ready to go back to the Congo wasn’t doing much to improve his mood.
Sherry, Doc Bishop’s nurse and a woman Finn had dated in high
school, opened the door to the closet-sized office. “Pain hasn’t let up, has
it?” she asked with a compassionate smile.
“I’m good. Just had to return a couple of phone calls.” He set down
the cold cup of coffee he hadn’t had a chance to drink, removed the ice pack
from his knee, and surreptitiously hid it behind the welcome-to-the-clinic
plant from the staff, which Finn now mentally referred to as the matchmaking
clinic from hell. He pushed to his feet with a closed-mouth smile that
hopefully hid his clenched his teeth from Sherry’s observant gaze.
“Really? I rescheduled Molly, Sally, and Karen’s physicals to
tomorrow, but if you’re okay to see—”
“No, tomorrow’s good. On second thought, why don’t you schedule
them with Doc Bishop? They’ve been going to him for twenty years. I’m sure
they’d be more comfortable—”
“They would be or you would?” she said with a laugh, and then
proceeded to share way too much information about all three women before
adding, “Dr. Bishop won’t be in tomorrow. Mrs. Fitzgerald invited him to make
up a foursome, remember?”
Finn rubbed his jaw. “I’m not sure that’s something you should
share—”
She made a ha-snort sound and then cuffed him on the shoulder. “Not
that kind of foursome, silly. They’re playing golf.” She ha-snorted again.
“It’s no wonder that’s where your mind went after the offers you’ve had today.
Kerry will get a good laugh over that one.”
If Sherry had her master’s in gossip, Kerry, the receptionist, had
her PhD. Finn figured he’d provided them with enough to talk about for a month
at least. He lifted his chin in the direction of the examination rooms. There
were five. “Who’s next?”
“I cleared out the waiting room of all but legit complaints, so you
only have four. Patient number one won’t take long. She just needs her script
renewed.” She handed him a file.
He looked at the name and handed it back. “Might be better if Doc
Bishop sees Ms. Templeton.”
“He left early. Mrs. DiRossi invited him for dinner, and I think he
wanted to get spiffed up.” Sherry frowned and looked from Finn to examination
room number one. “Is there a reason you don’t want to see Dana?”
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