'Kay- like I said last time, this one's pretty short... But this scene happens to be one of my favourites! Please, please do review, I'd really like to know how this has come across to all you readers! Huge thanks to all those who seem to favour this humble fic of mine...

Carlisle

"Job well done, Dr. Cullen," the tall, dignified dark-skinned man compliments me. "You'll be sorely missed in Forks."

I smile, too, in acknowledgement of the compliment. "Thank you, Dr. Sheridan. I think Forks is in able hands as it is," I say graciously, peeling off the blood-stained white gloves and tossing them into the disposal bin.

Dr, Sheridan nods good-humouredly and takes leave. I direct my steps from the ER to my office, finally finding the time to do what I've been meaning to all day.

I settle myself into my comfortable chair, swivel around to face the window behind my desk, and speed-dial one from my cell phone.

She answers before the first ring is through. "Carlisle," she sighs happily.

"Hello, dearest," I smile, feeling the warmth in turn at the sound of her voice.

"It's been a hell of a day," she sighs. I can almost see her massaging her brow.

"Tell me everything," I say soothingly.

"The tiles, Carlisle, the Italian porcelain tiles! Vintage and cost a fortune! And those brainless nitwits at the supplier's have shipped them to God knows where, and now I can't find them!" The situation is quite comical, but the anguish in her voice is genuine, and I'd be a fool if I laughed at her now in her moment of trivial distress.

"What do you mean you can't find them?" -I ask her gently, knowing that she has to get it all out of her system.

"That's just it!"- she snaps exasperatedly. "I don't know where. I asked them how the hell they could screw up a simple address to bloody 'Forks' and all they can do is mumble inconsequentially in Italian." I smile, trying to imagine Esme's furious face at the moment. Esme rarely swears, except when she's in a rare mood, but it's always entertaining to watch her become a positive firebrand. Entertaining for me, since Esme never gets mad at me, and it is usually our not-so-innocent children who are at the receiving end of her admonitions.

"And it's not like my Italian is bad," she continues, a hint of hurt escaping her tone, "since you taught me well enough, but those bloody thankless fools at the supplier's just have to stress on the fact that I'm a crude American and so have to speak in unintelligible dialects!"

I chuckle gently. "Ah, come on, Esme. You know there's nothing crude about you. And I'm sure they do that on purpose, knowing they can't stand a chance against your wonderful debating skills."

"Aren't you the sweetest?"- she comments wryly, and I laugh outright.

"Let it go, darling," I tell her, finding it safe enough to tell her so. "It isn't the end of the world."

She sighs. "No, I suppose not," she admits. "But it cost a fortune," she repeats wistfully.

"Esme, you know money is not an issue-" I start gently, but Esme cuts in decisively, "And it should be! Sure, we make enough money to end world poverty, but that doesn't mean we can spend indiscriminately!" I wince slightly, knowing that Esme is very firm upon this subject, and in her present mood, she is positively passionate. "Absolutely no regard for money- I've lost track of the number of times I've told the kids off about this. Honestly, I think Bella's the best thing that's happened to this family in a long time. Sometimes I think she's the only sensible one in the entire household!"

I quickly direct the conversation into a new avenue. "Of course Bella's the best thing that's happened to us in a while. Hadn't we agreed on that two years ago?"

As my ruse works, I almost hear the smile in her voice. "Yes we did. Edward is a lucky young man indeed."

"Nothing he doesn't deserve," I say quickly. We've had this conversation hundreds of times, but it never fails to bring us a sense of happiness and contentment at the fact that our first son is happy as well.

"Speaking of Edward and Bella," I say after the usual pause, "how's our little angel?"

"Thriving," Esme laughs. "She's romped about quite a bit with the wolves today." Quickly, she tells me the 'Messy Nessie' incident.

I laugh as is required. "And are you done searching for- you know?"-I ask delicately, hoping the words wouldn't fall on the wrong ears.

Esme laughs again. "None of the three are here, Carlisle, they've already returned to the cottage. Do you think I'd swear with Nessie in the house?"

"Ah, of course not. So, did you find what you were looking for?"

"Ye-es," Esme mumbles uncertainly. "It'll be an uphill task, but of course, anything works if it's for my granddaughter."

"Of course," I smile.

"For my part, I'm just glad I don't have to order anything over the internet this time," she continues. "After this porcelain tile incident, I'm not sure I want to order anything over the internet ever again."

I hear Emmett call out clearly, "What about your gardening catalogues, Esme?"

My chuckle fortunately goes unheard as Esme snaps- "Emmett Cullen, you eavesdropping monster! Mind your own business!"

I hear Rosalie call out in the tone of a weary mother-hen, "I'll handle him, Esme."

I am still chuckling when Esme returns to me.

"Honestly."-she fumes.

"Well, Esme, I suppose it's a good thing you won't have the porcelain tiles after all," I tell her half-humorously, half-soothingly. "You wouldn't want any sort of breakable porcelain around Emmett."

"That's true enough," she murmurs darkly.

I laugh again, while Esme sighs. "Sometimes it's just so much, Carlisle," she says softly. "Most of the time I'm just wild with happiness at home, but at times I just can't wait to step over the threshold in the mansion on Isle Esme. With you." She rarely admits something like this, for I know the family is her life. She must really be stressed today to think like this.

"Esme," I say softly, while she pauses to take a breath.

"Yes," she says, her voice sounding just a little abashed at her unthankful confidences.

"It's alright, sweetheart. I'm coming home soon."

She heaves a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God, I was going crazy here."

I laugh again. "You don't say."