Dr. Milton's Office ….
Meg waited in the dull, white waiting room decorated with pastel pink, and sea foam green swirls. A cooking program played on the television in the corner. She pulled out her address book and began compiling the list of baby shower guests she'd started her last appointment. Things around the consulate had kept her from putting it together sooner.
"Ms. Thatcher, you're next." The nurse called Meg back into the exam room. Dr. Milton was washing his hands as she took a seat on the leather covered table.
"Hello, Ms. Thatcher, have you given it any thought as to what we discussed during your last visit?" The doctor used a paper towel to push his glasses up onto his nose.
"Yes, I'm definitely ready to chose a donor, Dr. Milton, I've filled out the paperwork." Meg responded, taking a sheaf of pages out of her briefcase and handing them to the nurse standing in the corner of the tiny room.
"Why don't you and Lisa here go into the consultation room, she'll give you the details and assist." Dr. Milton motioned toward the exam room door.
"This way, Ms. Thatcher." Lisa, a woman just shy of forty, with kind eyes and an easy smile ushered Meg down the hallway.
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Meg walked out of Milton's office with more confidence than she'd walked out with. Her top five donors were Ivy League graduates from middle class backgrounds. She looked forward to meeting her child, of watching them mature.
As the lady Mountie rode in a cab back to the consulate, she read the real estate ads in the newspaper, hoping to find a two bedroom apartment. Her life was changing and she felt ready for it, ready to see where life took her. It wouldn't all be sunshine and roses, Meg knew that, but she didn't care, she'd blown through adversity before.
By the time Meg had arrived at the consulate her newspaper had a few ads circled to check out later. Right now, she just wanted to sit down with a tuna salad sandwich and apple juice. Turnbull stood absolutely still on sentry duty outside the consulate. Inspector Thatcher walked up the steps with a professional but still pleasant expression on her face.
"Good afternoon, Inspector Thatcher." Fraser's voice rolled down the hallway.
"Hello, Constable Fraser." Meg answered with a pleasant nod as she reached for the door to her office. The Mountie walked briskly down the hallway, catching her there.
"May I inquire as to how your appointment went earlier?" Fraser held open the door for her. Meg met his gaze, turning her head to one side.
"Come in to my office, Fraser." Inspector Thatcher invited him cautiously, wondering where the sudden interest was coming from. She left the door open, leaving it for Fraser to choose whether to close it or not. He left it partially open.
After taking a seat, Meg watched Fraser sit down as well. He was nervous and trying to hide it. Meg couldn't deny, things between them had changed since she'd told him her decision to begin the IVF process.
"How did you know I had an appointment earlier?" Meg wondered, she hadn't told anyone. She wasn't entirely comfortable discussing how she'd spent two hours comparing sperm donors with Fraser.
"You left early but the master schedule was clear." Fraser explained quickly. It was everything he could do not to squirm.
"Be a friend to her." Ben reminded himself. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the goal he'd set for himself.
"My appointment went well, Constable Fraser, thank you for asking." Thatcher spoke as if talking to Turnbull or the cashier at her favorite deli.
"You've taken a great challenge on, being a single parent, Inspector, I admire your conviction." Ben made himself tell her, watching closely for any disapproval. He remembered how she'd told him of her mother's lack of support. The Mountie could see things from both perspectives; Meg's and her mother's.
Meg's eyes widened and a pleased smile played at the corner of her lips for a moment. Admiration, he admired her for something? As high as Meg had felt walking out of the doctor's office earlier, she soared hearing Fraser say that.
"Thank you kindly, Fraser, I appreciate hearing that." Meg nodded a bit, her eyes shining.
"You're welcome, Sir." The Mountie stood up to take his leave of his commanding officer.
"Good afternoon, Constable." Meg said by way of an unofficial but polite dismissal.
"You as well." Ben wished her before turning to leave. Meg hated that he left but loved watching him go.
"Hmm, Fraser admires my conviction does he?" The lady Mountie thought to herself with a real satisfied smile playing across her features. "If he only knew what I admire about him." She sighed, pulling her prescription glasses out of her desk drawer.
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"You'll be on call at the drop of a hat, Ms. Thatcher, it's best to strike when the iron is hot so to speak." Dr. Milton chuckled at his own joke, his gray hair running amok all over his head.
"I understand, Dr. Milton." Meg sounded calmer than she felt. They'd harvested her eggs, a rather uncomfortable procedure for her, but the lady Mountie knew it would be worth it in the long run.
"Let me know immediately if you feel there's been a complication." Milton shook a finger at her, a grandfatherly air about him.
"Yes, immediately." Meg almost squirmed, ready to be out of the exam room. Between the doctor visits and the medication he'd prescribed her, her bank account was taking a hit. Meg couldn't afford to be gone from work any longer than necessary.
"Have a good afternoon, Ms. Thatcher, I'll see you in a day or two." Dr. Milton shook Meg's hand before releasing her.
"Right this way." A nurse ushered Meg down the hall toward the receptionist's desk.
"Good luck." They all wished her with sincere smiles. Meg thanked them then made her way out the door to find a cab in the nippy, fall air.
The Consulate ….
The smell of something burning pervaded the entrance hall of the consulate as Meg walked in after her appointment. A wisp of gray smoke drifted from the kitchen in the rear. The scent grew stronger as she neared the room. The window above the sink was open and Constable Turnbull was using a cookie sheet to fan the smoke away.
"Good heavens, Turnbull, what have you done?" Fraser's voice cut through the unpleasantly pungent smoke.
"I must have set the oven too high for the cinnamon raisin oatmeal cookies." Turnbull answered, trying to push the smoke out the open window and the open back door. The whole place reeked of burnt cinnamon. Meg choked as she stood in the door way with her hands on her hips.
"Constable Turnbull, do I even have to tell you what disciplinary measures I plan on taking?" Meg asked rhetorically. Her dark eyes blazed with anger and smoke induced tears. Turnbull stood at attention, an apron tied over his uniform and Halloween oven mitts on his hands.
"Why do I want a child, I have Turnbull." Meg thought to herself, shaking her head.
"Get this place cleaned up, I'll be back to inspect it in an hour." She turned on her heel and briskly walked back toward her office. She heard heavy footsteps behind her so she stopped and turned around, right into Fraser's chest. He stepped backward, steadying her by the shoulders.
"What is it, Constable Fraser?" Meg asked, straightening her suit jacket, a forest green affair with matching satin trim and gold buttons.
"I came to inquire about your appointment." Ben asked softly, so as not to be overheard. Meg met his gaze, blinking quickly for a moment. She nodded toward her office doors before turning away. Fraser followed her into her office where she closed the doors.
"Constable Fraser, I don't see the need for the rest of my staff to know about this process at this juncture, what with the unreliable nature of … things." She took a deep breath before continuing. Fraser taking an interest in her fertility clinic appointments had come as a surprise. Usually something so personal, so feminine, would send him running for the exit, the nearest window even.
"I understand, Inspector, I've remained discreet since the letter mix-up." Fraser stood at the corner of the Inspector's desk, his usual spot, his voice low.
"Thank you, Constable Fraser, I appreciate your discretion. Everything is going smoothly." Thatcher answered coolly, she didn't quite know how to proceed. She didn't know if she'd even tell Fraser if something were wrong. The walls of rank, professionalism, perception, and self-preservation kept the lady Mountie locked down tight.
"That's good to hear, Sir." Fraser shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He hadn't managed to find out anything of a personal, friendly nature since he'd started trying to be Thatcher's friend.
"I uh, I should help Turnbull with the kitchen." Fraser volunteered, hoping to be released.
"Yes, he does need a keeper." Meg smiled, rolling her eyes a bit. The corner of Fraser's mouth quirked up into a similar smile. For a moment they were on the same page, and that felt good.
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