Summer at Fraser’s Mill

The Second Dinner

T he grocery store was busy before the Fourth of July. On Friday afternoon a truck came from the store’s supplier with extra provisions and picnic supplies for the weekend. The Fourth was always a big boost for the store, since many people came to buy cookout food for their families. The town was hosting lunch at the fire hall, and they got their food through the grocery store as well. They needed tremendous numbers of pies. Grace kept busy unloading things. The food coolers were stocked to full capacity.

Grace was helping an evening customer, looking forward to closing the store and making dinner, when Doc came in the door. He often came in after the clinic closed to get food for dinner and the next day’s breakfast and lunch. Why he didn’t shop once a week or every few days like most people, Grace didn’t know. Maybe, living next door, it was easier to shop every day.

Doc approached the register, his arms full of groceries. “Hi,” he said. “Did you hear back about the van?”

He looked either tired or sick. Dark circles sat underneath his eyes, and he leaned on the counter.

“Ed called yesterday,” Grace said. “The van’s gonna need a new muffler, exhaust pipe, and tailpipe. Are you okay? You look awful.”

Doc yawned. “I’m fine,” he said. “I was up late, and then I got a call at three A.M. A woman down at the other end of town was having a baby, and as it happened, her midwife was in the middle of delivering somebody else’s baby. So they called me.”

“Good grief! How’d it go? Are the mom and the baby okay?”

“They’re doing great. The baby’s a girl. She was born an hour after I got there, and then I had appointments at the clinic starting at eight.”

“Wow. How do you feel?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I’ll get plenty of sleep tonight.”

Grace looked at Doc’s food—two cans of minestrone soup, a bag of potato chips, and a jug of milk. After staying up all night, he was eating that?

“I’m going to be nosy here,” Grace said. “Is this supposed to be your dinner?”

Doc grinned. “I plead the fifth.”

Grace shook her head. “This is disgraceful. What you need is a home-cooked meal. You’d better come over for dinner. My mom’s at a birthday party and I’m making dinner for myself and my dad.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t owe me anything for yesterday.”

“That’s not what I was thinking.” Grace pushed his groceries back across the counter toward him. “You’re my next-door neighbor, and you just stayed up all night delivering a baby. I’m not going to let you go back to your house to eat canned soup and potato chips.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! I’ll come.”

“Good. Do you still want me to ring up this stuff?”

“Sure. It might come in handy,” Doc said. “For your information, potato chips aren’t nearly as bad for you as a lot of other foods.”

“All right then.” Grace rang up the items and bagged them.

“What time should I come over?” Doc asked. “I can bring a first-aid kit in case you spill boiling juice on your hand again.”

Grace made a face at him. “I’m starting dinner as soon as I close up,” she said. “It’ll be ready around seven-thirty. You can come whenever you want, and leave the first-aid kit at your house. We’re having baked salmon, green beans, and pasta with red sauce. Unless you hate any of those things.”

Doc laughed. “Sounds like a feast. I’ll be over before seven-thirty.”

§

At seven, Grace closed up the store and went home.

“Hey, Dad,” she called as soon as she got in the door. “Where are you? We’re gonna have company for dinner.”

“In here,” Dad’s voice called from the living room.

Grace found him sitting in a chair with a dumbbell in each hand. “Dad, what are you doing?”

“Getting some exercise. Don’t worry, I’m not putting any weight on that foot.” Dad waved away Grace’s concern.

“I invited Doc over for dinner,” Grace said. “He was up all night helping a woman have a baby, and he was just in the store buying a can of soup and a bag of potato chips for his dinner. I thought he could use a home-cooked meal.”

“Fine with me,” Dad said. “He’s an interesting guy. Tells good stories. You need any help in the kitchen?”

“No, thanks, I’ve got it,” Grace said. “It’s all pretty easy.”

She hurried into the kitchen, put a pot of water on the stove for the pasta, and placed the frozen salmon onto a baking sheet with butter and lemon pepper. The green beans could wait while she dealt with everything else.

Someone knocked at the front door. Grace opened it to find Doc standing on the porch in khakis and a light green button-down with the sleeves rolled up. He was holding something flat.

“This is for you,” Doc said. “Can I help with anything?”

Grace took the thing he handed her. It was a bar of chocolate with raspberry, a kind they didn’t carry in the grocery store.

“Thanks!” Grace scrutinized the package. “You didn’t buy this at the dollar store, did you?”

He grinned. “I wouldn’t live to tell the tale if I did. I got it at the gas station.”

“Well, thanks. I like raspberry chocolate,” Grace said. “Come on in. You can snap the ends off the string beans if you want.”

He came in, seeming extra tall in the small entryway.

“That you, Doc?” Dad called from the living room.

“Hey, Ben.” Doc went into the room.

Grace followed him and stopped short. On his hands and knees, Dad was doing kneeling push-ups.

Doc cleared his throat. “I get the feeling you didn’t check with your doctor about starting an exercise regimen while still in a cast.”

“I’m not putting any weight on my foot,” Dad protested. He did another push-up.

Doc shook his head at him. “All right. You can do that if you’re careful. But the minute you put any weight on that foot, you’ll have to answer to me.” He turned to Grace. “Grace, you’re my official spy. Make sure your dad doesn’t put weight on his cast.”

“Sure,” Grace said. “If he does, I’ll tell my mom on him.”

“I don’t need half the family ganging up on me.” Dad chuckled. “Don’t you two have cooking to do?”

In the kitchen, Grace set Doc to work snapping beans while she set the table. Doc still looked tired, but he said he’d had a cup of coffee and was feeling a lot better.

Dinner was cheery. Doc regaled Grace and her dad with tales of his New York residency and his first impressions of Fraser’s Mill. He had had a rocky start because people were used to his uncle and didn’t trust him at first, but things had improved.

“Grace, you won’t believe this,” he said. “You asked if people ever paid me in chickens. Well, last week, somebody did. Two fresh ones he’d just killed and plucked. They were in a cooler in his car. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

Grace laughed. “Wow,” she said. “What did you do with them?”

“I put them in the freezer. I still have to figure out how to roast chickens.”

Near the end of dinner Doc was yawning again, but he didn’t move to go home.

“You oughtta get some sleep,” Grace said, “or you won’t be able to function tomorrow.”

He grinned. “Do you always get rid of your dinner guests this way?”

“Nonsense. You need sleep.”

“I guess I am gonna get up early to work on that float.” Doc rose from his chair. “Thanks, Grace. The food was great. The company wasn’t bad either.”

He held out his hand to Dad. “Ben. Good to see you.”

Dad shook Doc’s hand heartily. “Thanks for coming, Doc. Come again sometime. You oughtta try my wife’s scalloped potatoes—they melt in your mouth.”

Doc left, and Grace began to clear the table.

“Can I help with anything?” Dad asked, pushing back his chair.

“No, no, thank you,” Grace said. “I’ve got it.”

“Then I’ll just keep you company for a while,” Dad said. “That was a good dinner. Your mother couldn’t have made better salmon.”

Grace smiled. “Thanks, Dad.” She stacked up the plates and took them to the sink.

“Doc looked like he enjoyed himself, too,” Dad said. “The two of you seem to get along well. Must have been a good trip to Cadillac yesterday.”

Was that an offhand comment, or was Dad matchmaking? Grace started filling the left side of the sink with water. “Yes,” she said. “It was a surprisingly good time, considering it started out with the car breaking down.”

“Uh-huh,” Dad said.

Grace turned around. He was grinning.

“Dad,” she protested. “There’s nothing romantic between me and Doc. We’re just starting to be friends.”

“Whatever you say, Gracie.” Dad chuckled. “I’m not trying to make matches here. I know you’re getting ready to go back to California. But I’m glad you and Doc are friends now.”

Grace smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

It was comfortable talking about Doc with Dad. Of course he would suspect something going on between her and Doc, after she invited Doc to dinner. But Dad didn’t press the issue, like others might.

She could just imagine Alex’s reaction when she heard about the last couple days. Alex would crow over her, saying that was proof Grace and Doc were good together. Sure, in a way Alex had been right; they did actually get along when they spent time together. Doc was surprisingly fun to hang out with, and it was a lot nicer to be his friend than it had been to imagine herself his enemy. But Alex could forget her matchmaking entirely, because Grace wasn’t planning to get involved with anybody from Fraser’s Mill right before leaving Michigan. Grace needed to find a guy in California. Doc liked Hannah, anyway.

So what guys were in California? Lucas. Just thinking of him gave Grace a sinking feeling. She should have known long before that she wasn’t interested in Lucas. But she hadn’t realized it until he asked to visit her. Before that, sending emails back and forth had been low-pressure enough that she hadn’t had to think too seriously about it. She couldn’t uninvite him now—that would seem rude. But if he asked her for another date, she’d have to kindly tell him they weren’t a good match.

There had to be somebody else. Grace hoped he would show up soon, because time was ticking. She was twenty-seven. She’d spent so much time on school and work the last few years that she hadn’t spent a lot of time dating. Sure, school and work were important, but Grace didn’t want to be an old maid either. Maybe she’d find some other guy out in California, a guy who was less like Lucas and more like…Doc? No, no, no. There was no way Alex was right.