Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
E very time Celeste Rutherford came for a visit, she behaved as if it had been years since she’d last seen her children, when in this instance, it had only been four months. She’d flown to Atlanta earlier that year to spend Easter with the family, and before that she’d stayed for two weeks following Christmas. She would have remained longer if her husband—after enduring one too many winter nights alone—hadn’t begged her to return home to Minnesota.
When Michael saw his mother standing alone in the bustling airport terminal, he wondered if she’d left Grant behind again. At the sight of Michael, she beamed with such radiant joy he couldn’t help asking himself how he’d ever doubted her love for him.
“Darling!” she cried warmly, rushing forward and wrapping him up in one of her rib-crushing embraces.
Michael smiled, holding her close. “Hey, Mom. How are you?”
“Couldn’t be better, now that you’re here.” She clung a moment longer, then drew back and cradled his face between her soft hands, cinnamon-brown eyes shining with tender adoration. “I swear you get handsomer every time I see you. How is that even possible?”
“I don’t know.” Michael grinned crookedly. “Are you still refusing to wear your bifocals? ”
She laughed, lovingly stroking his cheek. “You look just like your father. It’s like stepping back in time.”
Michael smiled. “And speaking of that, you look really good, Mom. All your friends must hate you.”
“Oh, go on with you, boy,” she guffawed, blushing prettily.
In her early sixties, Celeste’s café-au-lait skin glowed with an age-defying radiance. Her hair was woven with silver and cut in short, sleek layers. Since becoming a frequent flyer in recent years, she’d learned to dress for comfort rather than style, though she still managed to epitomize casual elegance in a breezy summer top and linen slacks.
Michael glanced around curiously. “Where’s Grant?”
“In the restroom. He’ll be right out.” Celeste’s gaze suddenly landed on Reese, who’d hung back a little to give mother and son privacy. With a discreet glance at Reese’s hourglass body poured into snug denim, Celeste undoubtedly reached the conclusion that she was one of her son’s latest conquests.
“Hello,” Celeste murmured politely.
Michael turned as Reese stepped shyly forward. “Mom, I’d like you to meet Reese St. James. Reese, this is my mother, Celeste Rutherford.”
Celeste offered a friendly yet distant smile. “How nice to meet you, Reese.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rutherford,” Reese said warmly. “Did you have a good flight?”
Celeste looked pleasantly surprised, as if she hadn’t expected Reese to sound so gracious or articulate.
Damn , Michael thought with a stab of irritation. What kind of women does she think I date? I’m not Quentin!
“Yes, I did enjoy the flight,” Celeste answered smoothly. “Thank you for asking, Reese.”
Noting the speculative gleam in his mother’s eyes, Michael hastened to explain, “Reese just won my apprentice contest.”
“Oh! Congratulations!” Celeste exclaimed, clasping both of Reese’s hands between hers. “You must be so excited.”
“Ecstatic,” Reese enthused. “It’s an opportunity of a lifetime. I’m a huge fan of your son’s.”
Celeste beamed with pleasure, completely missing the sardonic glance that passed between Michael and Reese .
“I can’t tell you how many friends and coworkers tried to bribe me into putting in a good word with Michael,” Celeste confided. “After the contest was announced, you won’t believe the number of cards, gifts and baked goods I received. And every time I turned around, someone was dropping by for a surprise ‘visit.’” She grinned, shaking her head at Reese. “You’re going to be the envy of a lot of heartbroken women.”
Reese sighed dramatically. “Better them than me, I suppose.”
Celeste laughed, amused and delighted.
Michael had never been more relieved to see his stepfather approaching. Grant Rutherford was of medium height and build, with a receding thatch of curly gray hair and sharp green eyes that revealed his biracial roots. Dressed in a crisp polo shirt and neatly pressed khaki trousers, he looked like he’d just strolled off his favorite golf course.
He grinned broadly and greeted Michael with a backslapping bear hug. “Good to see you, Michael. Your mother has been looking forward to this trip ever since she returned from the last one.”
Michael smiled. “I’m glad you could both make it.” Turning to Reese at his side, he quickly performed the introductions.
As Reese shook Grant’s hand, she said, “You wouldn’t happen to be Dr. Rutherford of the Mayo Clinic, would you?”
Grant nodded. “That would be me.”
Reese’s face lit up with excitement. “Oh my goodness! It’s such an honor to meet you, Dr. Rutherford. I’ve been following your studies on stem cell research in the New England Journal of Medicine .”
“Is that right?” Grant beamed, his chest puffing with pride as he eyed her with keen interest. “Young lady, are you a physician?”
Reese nodded. “Obstetrics and gynecology. I work at Houston Methodist.”
“You don’t say?” Grant’s brows lifted in obvious approval. “Houston Methodist is an exemplary hospital system. I understand it was recently recognized as one of the nation’s best hospitals by U.S. News & World Report .”
Reese grinned. “Yes, sir. We’re very proud of that accomplishment.”
“As you should be. Where did you go to medical school, Reese?”
“Johns Hopkins.”
Grant and Celeste traded looks of such unconcealed delight, you’d have thought Reese just announced she’d found the cure for cancer .
As they left the busy airport terminal and headed toward the parking garage, Grant and Reese talked shop while Celeste fell in step beside Michael, slipping her arm companionably through his.
“Reese seems like such a wonderful young woman,” she gushed. “It looks like you really struck gold with your apprentice search.”
Michael did a mental eye roll, wondering if there was anyone Reese couldn’t charm and impress. His only hope was Sterling, who’d hated practically every woman Michael had ever dated. Though he’d never admit it to the old man, Michael had always valued his father’s opinion above anyone else’s. Not only did Sterling genuinely have his best interests at heart, but after thirty years as a homicide detective, he’d acquired an uncanny ability to read people. He knew bullshit when he smelled it, and he never hesitated to call a spade a spade.
If anyone could resist Reese’s charms, Sterling Wolf could.
Michael only wished he could say the same for himself.