The Doctor's Undoing (Doctors in Training 3)

“Should have asked me first. I’d have told you that model’s nothing but trouble.”

“I haven’t had any trouble with it so far.”

“You will. And don’t expect me to keep it running for you. I don’t work on those. More trouble than they’re worth.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask.”

The predicted storm hit while they were having dessert. Rain hammered the roof and slammed against the windows while thunder and lightning made the children whimper. Deb comforted her little one. Her mother plied the older one with cake and pie to distract him from the weather. Deb criticized her mother for giving the child too many sweets, to which Carolyn retorted that she knew all about raising children, thank you very much.

T.L. and Mick began to quarrel about some arcane sports statistic, causing Ron to sigh and mutter beneath his breath. “Great. Here we go.”

“I’m going to clean up this mess and then we’ll open our presents,” Carolyn announced, standing to gather the dirty dishes. “You all go into the living room and entertain the babies until I get done in here.”

Haley sprang to her feet. “Let me help you.”

Carolyn gave her a look that might have held a touch of approval for making the offer, though she shook her head. “I don’t like anyone else messing around in my kitchen. No one knows where everything goes, and I end up searching for stuff for days. But thanks for offering, hon.”

“She’s serious, you know,” Deb said with a wry shrug for Haley. “She doesn’t let anyone mess around in her kitchen. And then she’ll spend the rest of the day complaining about how much work she has to do around here.”

Frowning, Carolyn pointed a serving spoon at her daughter. “Watch your mouth.”

“I’m thirty years old, Mom. Don’t talk to me like I’m still a teenager.”

“You treat your mama with respect when you’re in this house,” her father ordered over his shoulder from the doorway. “Don’t matter how old you are.”

“Just let it go, Deb,” Mick said somewhat wearily when his sister looked prepared to continue the argument. “They’re always going to say stuff like that.”

Deb rounded on her older brother. “Don’t you tell me what to do, either!”

“Deb, why don’t you and I show Luis and Haley Mom’s prized African violets?” Ron suggested quickly. “Dad and Mick can watch the boys for a minute.”

She nodded slowly. “All right. Bryce, honey, go with Uncle Mick. You can play with your trucks again and then we’ll open presents when I come back in, okay?”

Still nervous of the booming thunder, Bryce was lulled only by the promise of presents. He allowed himself to be herded into the other room with his brother, uncle and grandfather.

The African violets were displayed on shelves built into a large greenroom off the back of the house. Haley imagined the room would be filled with sunshine on pretty days, bringing a reminder of summer inside even on cold winter days.

“This is a lovely room,” she said, touching a fingertip carefully to a velvety purple petal. “The flowers are beautiful.”

“My mother’s pride and joy,” Deb said, turning a lavender plant an inch in its stand to better display the blooms. “She’s been raising them since before Ron was born.”

Watching the storm sweeping across the yard beyond the greenroom glass, Haley commented, “This room is wonderful. I’m sure she loves sitting out here with her flowers.”

She motioned toward a little wicker table and two matching chairs arranged next to the far wall.

“Dad built it for her for their twentieth anniversary, almost twenty years ago,” Ron commented. “He spent several months working on it. She’s always complained that it should have been larger, and she wishes it had a little more southern exposure and she wishes he’d put in a few more electrical outlets, but she really does enjoy the room, for the most part.”

“As much as Mom enjoys anything,” Deb agreed with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sure she loves it,” Haley repeated.

She suspected Carolyn had obsessive-compulsive tendencies. The very tidy house, the perfectly arranged violets, the fact that no one except her worked in her kitchen—all pointed to control issues she’d have difficulty reining in without treatment. Those same tendencies would make her very trying to live with, especially for people who didn’t understand the underlying neuroses.

And there she went falling into psych-think again, she thought with a slight shake of her head.

“You weren’t kidding about your mother, were you?” Luis asked Deb, throwing a cautious glance in the direction of the open doorway.

Deb laughed shortly. “No. I wasn’t kidding. Why do you think I moved to Florida?”