Epiphany
"Hi, this is Barbara Mason. I'm not home right now, but if you'll leave a message after the tone, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. If you are in need of medical attention, please call my service at 555-7238 and they will refer you to the physician on call. If this is an emergency you can go directly to the emergency room at Penobscot Medical Center." The warm, familiar voice was followed by a long beep and then silence.
Great! Benton Quest thought in disgust. Just what I want to do . . . talk to a machine. In a falsely cheerful voice, he said, "Hi, Barbara. It's Benton. Why don't you give me a call when you get in. Nothing urgent, just when you have a minute. Talk to you later."
Benton dropped the phone back onto the desk and sighed. He was fidgety and needed to get out of the house for a while. Knowing that Barbara Mason, the local physician in the Rockport/Camden area, didn't have office hours on Saturdays, he'd hoped that she might be free and willing to join him on an outing that afternoon. Barbara was a good friend and the two of them often did things together. They had an easy rapport and enjoyed many of the same activities. The Annual Church Street Festival was scheduled to begin today in Belfast and he was going to ask her if she wanted to go. He was sincerely disappointed that she hadn't been home. He sat for a minute longer and then shoved himself up out of the chair with determination. Well, if she wasn't home, then she wasn't home. He'd just go by himself.
Benton strode leisurely through the crowded downtown streets of Belfast, Maine, enjoying the cool, clear fall afternoon. He had seen a host of people he knew and had stopped to talk with many of them, but he was still on his own when he turned the corner and entered the courthouse square. Here, the sidewalks were lined with a host of food vendors, offering everything from fresh boiled lobster and steamed clams to newly pressed cider and taffy apples. He smiled as he wandered along with no particular aim in mind.
A sudden burst of familiar laughter caused Benton to turn his head, and he spotted Barbara Mason sitting on a nearby bench. She was dressed in a dark red sweater and black pants, and her lightly silvered dark hair was wind-blown. Her back was to him and standing next to her was a tall, distinguished-looking individual he didn't recognize. Benton inspected the man carefully from his vantage point some 20 feet away. He was probably in his early 50's, with a golden tan, sun-bleached, light brown hair, and brown eyes. He moved with the easy grace of an athlete, and his casual elegance and expensive clothes marked him as being successful in his chosen profession. As Benton watched, the man rested a foot on the bench next to Barbara and leaned down to say something. Whatever it was caused her to toss her head back and laugh in delight again. The stranger stood and bowed with exaggerated gallantry and then knelt at her feet. Seemingly out of nowhere he produced a single red rose, which he offered to her. When she reached out to take it from him, he smiled and kissed her hand. Even from that distance, Benton could see her blush. He felt the easy smile that he had worn just moments before fading away. Without a second thought, he veered toward the couple.
"There you are, Barbara!"
She swiveled around on the bench and smiled up at him as her escort's grin faded. "Benton, how good to see you!" She reached out a hand to him as a slight frown creased her forehead. "Were you looking for me? Is there a problem?"
Benton laughed and caught her outstretched hand reassuringly. "No. I just tried calling you earlier this afternoon to find out if you wanted to play hooky with me."
Her lilting laughter was like a tonic. "Like minds . . . But I'm afraid Mark beat you to it. He called last night to ask if I'd play tour guide."
Benton turned and smiled coolly at Barbara's companion. Offering his hand, he said, "I don't believe we've met. Benton Quest."
"Mark Renquist," the man replied in a deep baritone, taking Benton's hand and squeezing it firmly. He could see the other man sizing him up, as the stranger took in his graying red hair and beard, hazel eyes, and faded blue jeans. Benton could almost feel himself being cataloged and dismissed.
"Mark and I attended medical school together, many eons ago," Barbara supplied. "He was in the area and remembered I lived here, so he looked me up."
Renquist chuckled, looking down at her in a way that made Benton grit his teeth. "Well, not exactly. A mutual colleague in D.C. mentioned that he'd run into you a couple of months back at the AMA continuing education conference in San Antonio. I was there, too, but somehow I must have missed you. At any rate, he told me that you'd moved back to the old homestead to practice. I'd been planning to take some time off before winter, and when he mentioned you, I got it into my head to come up here for that vacation. It's been a while since I've been to New England in the fall, and it gave me an excuse to look you up again." He smiled at her with a gleam in his eye. "I never should have let you get away in the first place, you know."
Barbara snorted. "My dear Mark, back then all you could think about was getting through med school with the highest grades in the class so that you could have your pick of residency placements."
"Yes, but I didn't accomplish it." He reached out and caressed her nose lightly with one finger. "As I recall, you came away with that honor."
Barbara blushed furiously. "Don't be silly, Mark," she said hastily. "You know as well as I do that grades don't necessarily tell the whole story. A lot of being a doctor still goes back to how well you relate to your patients. Furthermore, not finishing at the head of our class didn't hurt you at all. You still got the most prestigious neurology residency in the whole United States."
He smiled down at her fondly. "A position you could have had."
"I didn't want it!"
"So you're a neurologist, then?" Benton queried, taking an instant dislike to this man.
"A neurosurgeon," Renquist agreed. "I have a clinic in Bethesda, Maryland. What about you, Quest? What do you do?"
There was a tone of challenge in that question. Out of the corner of his eye, Benton saw Barbara inhale. "I'm a researcher," he replied hastily, deciding to be deliberately vague. He saw Barbara exhale as she raised an eyebrow at him.
"A researcher? On what? Sealife?"
"Sometimes," Benton agreed.
"Isn't this a rather backwoods sort of place if you plan to really accomplish anything?" Renquist replied, this time sounding amused and more than a little condescending. Benton could literally hear himself being dismissed once more.
"Oh, I don't know. It's quiet, which tends to cut down a lot on the interruptions." Benton shot back. A swift glance at Barbara told him that she was struggling not to laugh. He was fairly certain that she was thinking about some of the various 'interruptions' that she'd been required to clean up after.
"You live here in Belfast, then?" Renquist continued, obviously trying to learn more about him.
"No. I have a place just outside Rockport." He paused and then added drolly, " . . . . just up the road from Barbara, actually." Benton didn't miss the small frown that flickered across the other man's face, but it was gone in an instant. Starting to enjoy himself, Benton decided to go on a fishing expedition of his own. "You live in Maryland, you said? Is that where your family is from?"
Renquist laughed. "No. My parents were originally from the south, but they died while I was still in medical school. No, it's just me. I've got a place in the country on the outskirts of Silver Spring."
"Nice neighborhood," Benton commented dryly.
"I like it."
"Wife? Kids?"
"An ex-wife in Orlando and another in Georgetown. No kids. You?"
"Two boys, both grown. My wife died some years ago."
"That's a shame. My condolences." He did sound sorry, but Benton got the impression it wasn't for the usual reasons.
"Thank you." Glancing down nonchalantly at Barbara, Benton commented, "By the way, Barbara, I've been meaning to ask you if you're free next weekend."
"I'm on call. Why? What's up?"
"I managed to land tickets to that new Broadway show in New York everyone's been raving about and I thought you might like to go with me." Benton watched Renquist out of the corner of his eye. This time, the man's frown was obvious.
Barbara smiled up at him and said, "That would be lovely! Let me do some checking. I've got some people who owe me favors. Maybe I can trade off and free myself up. What night?"
"Why don't you try to get Friday, Saturday and Sunday? We can leave after your office hours on Friday evening and make a weekend of it."
"I'll see what I can do and let you know."
"Great! Well, I think I've intruded long enough, so I probably should be on my way. Nice to have met you, Renquist."
The man's sour expression said that the feeling wasn't mutual, but he replied pleasantly, "You too. Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime."
"You never know." Benton turned back to Barbara with a warm smile. "You take care and I'll see you soon." What devilish urge made him reach out and run his fingers lightly down her cheek, he couldn't say, but the expression on the other man's face made Benton feel extremely smug as he leisurely strolled away.
Benton, Race and Estella were all sitting in the family room later that evening when the phone rang. Estella, being closest to it, answered.
"Quest Compound. Hello!" She chuckled. "Yes, I know, we keep saying we're going to get together for lunch but we just never seem to accomplish it." She looked thoughtful. "Tomorrow? Yes, I think I'm free. Brunch sounds wonderful. When and where? That's sounds good. I'll meet you there about 10:30. Benton? Yes, he's here. Hang on a second . . ." She extended the phone to him. "It's Barbara Mason."
Reaching over, he took it. "Hi, Barbara."
"You are not a nice person."
"Me? What did I do?"
"You had Mark sulking the rest of the day. I spent all of dinner trying to explain to him that we're just really good friends."
"Well, he was being such a pompous ass . . ."
"Now, now," Barbara chided him. Then she laughed. "He can be a bit overbearing at times, I'll admit. But he's a good person at heart, Benton, and he's a really fine surgeon. You just have to forgive his manner sometimes."
"I don't have to forgive him anything," he said in a deliberately finicky tone, but they both heard the undercurrent of laughter behind his voice. "So what about next weekend?"
"Oh, Benton, I really wish I could, but there's just no way I can get coverage. I've called everyone I know, but they've all made plans. We're looking at the last few weekends of nice weather before winter sets in and everyone is taking advantage of it."
"You're tied down all three days?"
"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry."
"Well, that's okay," he said, although his disappointment was obvious. "When's your next free weekend? Maybe I can shift the tickets around to another date."
"If you're talking about the entire weekend, not until right after Thanksgiving."
"Good Lord, Barbara, almost two months? Why? Surely you haven't traded off to work that much."
"No, but you know we're short of doctors in the area right now. The Medical Center has lost two of its staff ER doctors in the last month, and with Dr. Quigley retiring this past June and that new GP in Camden changing his mind about staying, we're spread pretty thin."
"I don't understand. There are a number of doctors in the area. Why are you the one always stuck on call?"
"Now you're starting to sound like Mark!" When Benton didn't respond to the deliberately light tone, she explained patiently. "Benton, it takes special certification to be able to work ER/trauma so not everyone can do it. Furthermore, most physicians don't like working the ER. It's high stress and there's a high risk of liability. I don't like it much, either, but we've got such a need for emergency room physicians, that I make it a point to stay certified and available. Unfortunately, that means I'm on call a lot of the time."
Benton sighed. "Okay, I'll see if I have any chance of exchanging the tickets for the weekend after Thanksgiving. How about dinner tomorrow evening instead?"
"Can't. Mark's taking me to dinner tomorrow."
"Monday?"
"Community Center function."
"Tuesday?"
"Late office hours."
"Wednesday?"
"Mark again."
"How long is he going to be here?!?" Benton snapped in frustration.
Barbara burst out laughing. "I'm sorry," she gasped, "but you sounded so put out." Struggling to control herself she said, "He'll be here through next weekend, but I've got to warn you . . . I'm trying to get him to chuck Bethesda and move up here."
"What?! Why???"
"Because he's a damned fine doctor, and we don't have a good neurosurgeon any closer than Boston."
"He'll never find enough patients to make a full practice around here."
"Yes, but he says he's ready for a change and he's bright enough to make the transition to family practice and ER without too much trouble."
"Not with his attitude, he's not."
"We'll see," she replied noncommittally. "Why don't I call you about dinner once Mark's left?"
"I really didn't like that guy," Benton grumbled.
She chuckled. "Well, the feeling's mutual, my friend, because he didn't like you much, either."