Charles finished the last of the spaghetti on his plate, but even the satisfaction of his wife's cooking couldn't quite quell a thread of inner irritation. He blotted his lips with his napkin, glancing across the table at her. "Superlative as always, Beloved."
"Grazie," she dimpled back, and began to clear off the table. Charles watched her do it, his gaze taking in her figure with both personal and professional interest. The pregnancy wasn't showing yet, but he still felt a surge of quiet delight in her other curves.
"You're too quiet," Charlotte accused over the sink-full of suds. "What's wrong?"
"It's simply that I don't understand why you opted for Mayfair over Colman," he confessed, the irritation surging again. "You are the wife of the chief of thoracic surgery and entitled to the best professional Boston General has. That means being attended by the head of the Obstetrics department, not just . . . one of the staff there."
"I didn't feel comfortable with Doctor Colman," Charlotte replied patiently. "And Doctor Mayfair is well-qualified, Charles. She really is."
"I've heard comments about her," Charles muttered. "Spent a lot of time in Russia and Paris, apparently. Picked up some odd ideas about psychoprophylactic birth techniques and who knows what else."
"Innovation can be good," Charlotte countered a little defensively. "Think of all the new techniques you picked up in Korea."
He waved a dismissing hand. "Those came about out of trial and error compounded by necessity; birth has an established routine, particularly at Boston General. Frankly I just think it's a little insulting to pass over the department head, Charlotte, particularly when I went out of my way to set up the appointment with him."
As he watched, Charlotte slammed her hands on the rim of the sink and took a deep breath. She turned to him, her gaze sharp. "All right, maybe this will make it a little clearer. We're going to play pretend here for a moment, mio Orso. You are going to be me, newly pregnant and slightly vulnerable, all right? Can you put yourself in my shoes?"
"What?" Charles blinked at her, startled by her flare of hostility. Charlotte wiped her hands on the dishtowel on the counter and came over to him, holding his gaze with her own.
"And I'll be Aubrey Colman, the doctor meeting me for the first time."
She glided over with a bright false smile, resting her still damp hands on his shoulders, squeezing them slightly. "Ooooh Mrs. Winchester, how nice to meet you." Charlotte leaned in until her breath brushed his face. "You're quite pretty. Now I'm going to have you breathe deeply . . ."
Charles felt Charlotte slide her hand up his chest, pressing lingeringly caressing his left pectoral muscle. "Charlotte," he protested, thrown off-balance by the grope, particularly since she was still hovering very closely to him.
"Shhh, yes, good strong heartbeat. Your husband seemed very pleased about this pregnancy and I can see why," Charlotte breathed, her tone slightly lascivious. "You're so dainty and petite. Let's see about those lymph nodes . . ." She shifted back to stand in front of him, leaning in closely and cupped his face. "When was your last pelvic exam, dear? Do we have time to get you on my table today for a good checkup?" Charlotte continued, caressing his jawline with her thumbs, her face fractionally from his, her gaze bright and predatory. "Oh your husband really is a lucky man."
Charles stared at her for a deeply uncomfortable moment before whispering, "Oh."
Charlotte dropped her hands and pulled back her expression bitter. "Yes. And that's the problem, Charles. It was that uncomfortable. Nothing overt it's just . . . he just seemed a lit-tle too happy to keep touching me."
Disbelief gave way to anger. "That's . . . completely unprofessional!"
"Yes," Charlotte admitted. "But it's also just on the borderline. After all, he's the head of the department and a professional. If his hand stays on my breast a little too long, well he's checking my heartbeat, and all those things he said? Clearly I just misinterpreted them because I'm pregnant and emotional."
"Atrocious!" Charles felt himself begin to growl. "He cannot be allowed to get away with behavior like that, particularly with YOU!"
Charlotte reached out and lightly rested her arm around his shoulders, giving him a gentle hug. "He won't because I'm not seeing him, Charles darling. Maybe I AM being difficult, but I don't want to go through this pregnancy with someone who makes me so ill at ease."
Charles pulled her into his lap and held her tightly, tamping down his anger even as he comforted her with light kisses along her hairline. "Point well made. Good lord, had I known the man was a lecherous cad I never would have made the appointment. Aside from what he did to you, this is distressing on a professional level as well."
Charlotte burrowed against him. "Mayfair warned me away from him, if you need another reason to support my choosing her. I'd be curious to know if anyone else at the hospital feels the same way about Colman."
"I intend to find out," he assured her, his tone hard.
She looked up at him, slightly alarmed. "Chaaaarles," Charlotte warned him gently, "Be prudent, please. Yes Aubrey Colman is . . . creepy, but I don't want you to jeopardize your position over this! You're just getting established."
He drew in a deep breath. "I want to be calm and fair but it's damned difficult, knowing what he's said and done to you in the course of a single visit, Charlotte my love. The very thought is revolting and a horrendous abuse of his position. How many others has he toyed with, and possibly molested?"
"Mayfair mentioned," Charlotte murmured thoughtfully. "That he'd been in New York and Philadelphia prior to this, less than three years at each place."
Charles locked gazes with his wife, both of them aware of what those short stints hinted at in the scheme of hospital staffing. "Perhaps a few letters of inquiry would be the more discreet way of building a case," he mused, still disgruntled.
"Perhaps," Charlotte agreed, her tone lightening. "But that's for tomorrow. In the meantime, I have parfait for dessert."
Charles gave her an indulgently suspicious look, smiling crookedly. "You only make that particular delight when you want to ask me a favor," he reminded her. "What is it this time?"
She laughed, swooping in for a kiss. "Put away the dishes, come join me in the living room and you'll find out."
'It' turned out to be a crate that held a brand-new stereo cabinet complete with a built-in record player and high fidelity speakers. Charles looked at it and back to Charlotte, who laughed delightedly as she told him, "My first commission came through and I thought I'd splurge a little."
He shot her a tender look. "You shouldn't have," he murmured, feeling a sense of delight and love as he used the crowbar to pry off the top of the crate.
"I wanted to," she replied, pulling some of the excelsior out and throwing it at him. "Now we can fill the house with all sorts of music and make sure the baby gets only the best influences. Mozart, Chopin, Verde, Joplin . . ."
"Rachmaninoff, Mahler, Rimsky-Korsakov—"
"Goodman, Krupa, Davis," Charlotte countered, and Charles gave a deep sigh, setting the crowbar down
"This is about Honoria and her current musical infatuations," he murmured. "You're trying to bribe me, Charlotte Lucia Winchester."
To her credit she didn't deny it, and came over, rubbing her nose with his. "Is it working?"
Charles glanced down at the partially uncovered cabinet, with its sleek wood peeking through the clumps of wood shavings. The thought of rich symphonies flowing through the house in majestic strains while he read in the study made him smile. "Possibly. Alas, I suppose every teenager goes through a period of questionable choices and tastes."
"What were yours?" Charlotte wanted to know, brushing her cheek against his and making it hard to think.
"The Ritz brothers, and plus fours," Charles admitted with a sheepish grin as Charlotte laughed.
