leaned down and picked up her daughter, murmuring in her ear. Gillian recognized her. She lived three doors down from Lauren, at the end of their block, a new neighbor as of six months ago.
“The lady doesn’t seem to be interested in continuing the conversation. Why don’t you leave?” Mustache Man leaned down and picked up the sketch table and papers now scattered on the ground. With his other hand, he righted Gillian’s three-legged stool and gave her an encouraging grin.
Nick ’s hands fisted. He looked as though he wanted to hit someone but now seemed to think better of the idea. He grimaced at Gillian. “I’ll talk to you later.” He stalked away.
She’d been only dimly aware of her pulse earlier. Now it seemed to pound in her ears. “Everything’s fine now.” She waved at the small crowd of onlookers as they slowly dispersed, looked up at the man in the floppy hat and sat down on her stool. “Thanks for helping.”
“What about you? Are you okay?” the stranger asked. He glanced at the sketch of the trees that had fallen out of the folder. “You do good work.” He handed the drawing back to Gillian.
“Thanks. Who knew that sketching a few pictures would draw a crowd?” She gave a short little laugh, willing her heart to slow to normal speed. So much for a relaxing morning in the park. “I want to thank you, uh …”
“Mo. Maurice, actually,” he grinned crookedly, “but I go by Mo. And you are?”
“ Gillian Griffiths.” She held out her hand. “Thank you, Mo.” She peered more closely at him when they shook hands. His blue eyes were soft, like he cared about people. “Aren’t you the doctor who joined the clinic over on Revard Street? Didn’t I read—?”
“The one and only Doctor Shellenberg,” he chuckled, stroking his mustache. “My name is hard to forget for most people. Hard to spell, too.”
She nodded. “Unusual enough for easy recall. I should call you Doctor.”
“No need. Mo’s good enough.”
She acknowledged his comment with a little shrug. “You look like you’ve been hiking this morning.”
“ My day off. I was warming up for a longer jaunt. Who was that goon? He looked loaded for bear.”
“My old boss.” Her hands shook slightly as she reached for the sketch Mo was holding, wondering if her knees would ever stop shaking. “It was nothing.”
“Then why are you trembling? Maybe you should stay seated.”
“I’ll be all right. Actually, I’m more embarrassed than scared. I hate being the center of attention.” She tried to smile, the muscles in her cheeks feeling stiff.
“ You’ll feel better after some coffee,” Mo suggested. “Doctor’s orders. Why don’t you join me?” He pointed in the direction of the espresso place on the far side of the park. “I was about ready to head home, anyway.”
“ A good idea.” She stood up, relieved that her legs no longer felt like spaghetti, and reached for her drawing table, which Mo now held.
He pulled it closer to his side. “I’ll carry it. You have too much other stuff— that three-legged stool and your pictures.”
She ambled with him in the direction of the cafe. When they were seated, she let out a quiet breath, aware that her pulse had finally slowed to a near-normal rate. “Thanks for challenging Nick. I’m not sure how quickly he would have left if you and those women hadn’t stopped.”
“What did he want?”
“I have no clue. These last few months, I’ve had to fire a few employees, something Nick always made me do. Two weeks ago was the worst. That’s when he fired me, too. When he did that, I figured what he’d save in my salary would protect at least two, maybe three, other people from having to be let go.” She clasped the mug with both hands as the coffee steamed, warming her hands, calming her. Recalling the emptiness of the office when she’d walked by all those empty cubicles to ask Nick about Shelley’s check, she added, “Or maybe not.”
She peered
“The lady doesn’t seem to be interested in continuing the conversation. Why don’t you leave?” Mustache Man leaned down and picked up the sketch table and papers now scattered on the ground. With his other hand, he righted Gillian’s three-legged stool and gave her an encouraging grin.
Nick ’s hands fisted. He looked as though he wanted to hit someone but now seemed to think better of the idea. He grimaced at Gillian. “I’ll talk to you later.” He stalked away.
She’d been only dimly aware of her pulse earlier. Now it seemed to pound in her ears. “Everything’s fine now.” She waved at the small crowd of onlookers as they slowly dispersed, looked up at the man in the floppy hat and sat down on her stool. “Thanks for helping.”
“What about you? Are you okay?” the stranger asked. He glanced at the sketch of the trees that had fallen out of the folder. “You do good work.” He handed the drawing back to Gillian.
“Thanks. Who knew that sketching a few pictures would draw a crowd?” She gave a short little laugh, willing her heart to slow to normal speed. So much for a relaxing morning in the park. “I want to thank you, uh …”
“Mo. Maurice, actually,” he grinned crookedly, “but I go by Mo. And you are?”
“ Gillian Griffiths.” She held out her hand. “Thank you, Mo.” She peered more closely at him when they shook hands. His blue eyes were soft, like he cared about people. “Aren’t you the doctor who joined the clinic over on Revard Street? Didn’t I read—?”
“The one and only Doctor Shellenberg,” he chuckled, stroking his mustache. “My name is hard to forget for most people. Hard to spell, too.”
She nodded. “Unusual enough for easy recall. I should call you Doctor.”
“No need. Mo’s good enough.”
She acknowledged his comment with a little shrug. “You look like you’ve been hiking this morning.”
“ My day off. I was warming up for a longer jaunt. Who was that goon? He looked loaded for bear.”
“My old boss.” Her hands shook slightly as she reached for the sketch Mo was holding, wondering if her knees would ever stop shaking. “It was nothing.”
“Then why are you trembling? Maybe you should stay seated.”
“I’ll be all right. Actually, I’m more embarrassed than scared. I hate being the center of attention.” She tried to smile, the muscles in her cheeks feeling stiff.
“ You’ll feel better after some coffee,” Mo suggested. “Doctor’s orders. Why don’t you join me?” He pointed in the direction of the espresso place on the far side of the park. “I was about ready to head home, anyway.”
“ A good idea.” She stood up, relieved that her legs no longer felt like spaghetti, and reached for her drawing table, which Mo now held.
He pulled it closer to his side. “I’ll carry it. You have too much other stuff— that three-legged stool and your pictures.”
She ambled with him in the direction of the cafe. When they were seated, she let out a quiet breath, aware that her pulse had finally slowed to a near-normal rate. “Thanks for challenging Nick. I’m not sure how quickly he would have left if you and those women hadn’t stopped.”
“What did he want?”
“I have no clue. These last few months, I’ve had to fire a few employees, something Nick always made me do. Two weeks ago was the worst. That’s when he fired me, too. When he did that, I figured what he’d save in my salary would protect at least two, maybe three, other people from having to be let go.” She clasped the mug with both hands as the coffee steamed, warming her hands, calming her. Recalling the emptiness of the office when she’d walked by all those empty cubicles to ask Nick about Shelley’s check, she added, “Or maybe not.”
She peered
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