get some fresh air when he spotted Virginia on the far side of the cafeteria. It surprised him, as he never saw her in here.
She was sitting in the corner of the cafeteria at a table for two, but she sat alone. She was reading some kind of medical journal as she picked at a salad.
The cafeteria was full of other doctors, nurses, interns, but Virginia sat by herself.
She’s the chief of surgery. The boss.
The ice queen.
No one would want to sit with their boss at lunch. They wouldn’t feel comfortable, and he felt sorry for her. She was so young and she didn’t have it easy.
Just like me.
He crossed the cafeteria and stopped in front of her. “May I join you, Virginia?”
She looked startled and glanced up at him. “Of—of course, Dr. Potter. I mean Gavin.”
Gavin took the seat across from her. “How was your choly?”
“Routine.” She smiled and his pulse quickened. He liked the way she smiled and especially when it was directed at him, which wasn’t often. “How was the ER?”
“I think you can guess.”
“I know. I won’t say it.”
“I’m trying to work on interpersonal skills, but I’m having a hard time putting faces to names.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t seem to have that problem with patients.”
He nodded. “This is true.”
“You’re agreeing with me? Amazing.” The twinkle of humor appeared again.
“You’re mocking me now, aren’t you?”
Virginia stabbed a cherry tomato. “So what’s the difference between the nurses and the patients?”
“The patients aren’t all wearing the same kitten patterned scrubs.”
Virginia chuckled. “Not all the nurses wear kitten scrubs.”
“Well pink, then.” Gavin snorted. “Always pink.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.” Gavin didn’t want to talk about his nieces. His private life was just that. It was his and private.
“What did you do in Africa? How did you remember names there?”
“It was easy. There were only ten of us at the most at any given time.”
“It’s a number thing, then.”
Gavin swallowed the water he had taken a swig of. “There are so many nurses. I think they’re multiplying and replicating in the back somewhere.”
Virginia laughed. It was a nice one, which made him smile. “Please, don’t tell them you think they’re cloning themselves. You’re a good surgeon, Gavin, and I’d hate to lose you to a pyre they’d light under the spit they’d tie you to.”
Gavin winked. “I’m trying.”
“Good.” She leaned forward and he caught the scent of vanilla, warm and homey like a bakery. He loved that smell. Gavin fought the sudden urge to bury his face in her neck and drink the scent in. “I have a secret.”
“Do tell.”
“They wear nametags.”
Gavin rolled his eyes. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”
Virginia just laughed to herself as she ate her salad. “So, do you have any plans for the weekend?”
He cringed inwardly and then picked at the label on his bottle of water. “Nothing in particular. Are you off this weekend?”
“Yes, surprisingly.”
“And do you have plans?”
“I do.”
Gavin waited. “Not going to tell me?”
“Why should I? You don’t divulge aspects of your personal life.”
“Touché.” He downed the rest of his water and stood. “I’d better get back to the ER. It was nice chatting with you, Virginia.”
“And with you, Gavin. I hope the ER remains quiet for you for the rest of the day.”
A distant wail of an ambulance could be heard through an open window of the cafeteria. Several people raised their heads and listened.
Gavin groaned. “You had to jinx it, didn’t you?”
And all that minx did was grin.
VIRGINIA WAS TIRED of sitting in her apartment alone. Not even the cactus could get her mind to stop racing.
The two things on her mind were the board’s threat to close the ER and Gavin.
After lunch yesterday she had felt the eyes of the other staff members boring into the back of her skull. They had obviously been shocked that the lone wolf, Dr. Brice, had sat with the ice queen of Bayview Grace, and the kicker had been that they’d both seemed to enjoy each other’s company.
Well, ice queens could get lonely too.
Virginia couldn’t let a slip up like that happen again. She couldn’t afford to have rumors flying around about them.
She’d eat in her office from now on.
At least, that’s what she’d decided on during her drive down to the pier in the calm serenity of her car.
Virginia had forgotten how crowded and noisy the pier was. It was a Saturday and it was August.
Tourist season.
The height of it.
All she wanted to do was get some fresh produce and maybe some shrimp down at the pier for dinner later, but she’d forgotten how jam-packed Fisherman’s Wharf could be. If she had a nickel for every middle-aged guy in an Alcatraz T-shirt wearing sandals with dark socks hiked to their knees who had bumped into her today, she’d have twenty bucks. At least.
Virginia moved through the crowd towards the pier. Her favorite vendor had a stall right near the edge of the market. Nikos knew her by name, knew what she liked and had her order ready every third Saturday of the month.
She liked the conversation and the familiarity, but it also reminded her of how utterly alone she was. How much it sucked that she’d be returning to her apartment in Nob Hill with only the echo of her own voice, her mute cactus and cable television to keep her company.
You can’t have it all, Virginia.
At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. She needed to keep her job so she could keep a roof over her head and send checks to her parents in De Smet. She’d make sure her younger siblings had a better childhood than she and Shyanne had had. Money was what her family needed. Not her presence, even though her mother begged her to visit all the time. A pang of pain hit her. She missed her twin sister and her family with every fiber of her being.
Only she couldn’t earn the money her family needed and take time off to visit them.
A shriek across the market shook her out of her dull reverie and she glanced to the source of the sound. A flurry of pink could be seen in the midst of the crush of locals and tourists.
The cloud of pink, in the form of a very puffy and frilly tutu, was attached to a golden-haired cherub on the shoulders of someone one could only assume was her father.
A pang of longing hit her and hit her hard.
Kids weren’t