divided rounds so that we were not together at any point we could avoid it.
That hurt. I understood why it had to be like this, but I couldn’t help remembering how much we’d enjoyed working together right after the wing had opened. Of course, at first it hadn’t been so much fun—we’d been at each other’s throats for a while—but once we’d reached a point of compromise and understanding, we’d been a terrific team. I missed that.
“Yeah, you were the talk of the hospital.” Deanna waggled her eyebrows. “I knew of you—hell, I mean, everyone at St. Agnes has heard of the great and powerful Deacon Girard—but it was nothing like the talk that was going around last year.” She shrugged and rested her elbows on the edge of the table between us. “So I figured when you got back, I’d try to meet you. I hadn’t gotten around to it—it’s been busy in the heart department lately—but then I drew the short straw to go to the board meeting tonight, and there you were.”
I set down my mug. “Imagine that.”
“Right?” She lowered her voice. “Listen. I don’t know what your relationship status is—like, if you’re seeing someone or what—but if you wanted—”
“Deacon Girard, I hope that’s decaffeinated you’re drinking!” A small, determined dynamo of a woman appeared suddenly next to our table, one hand on her hip and her eagle eyes focused on me.
“Miss Sissie.” Being a gentleman who still lived with a healthy respect for—and fear of—all of my elders, particularly the female ones, I pushed back my chair and jumped to my feet. “How are you tonight?”
“I’m well, thank you for asking, Deacon. My arthritis is acting up just a tad, but at my age, I can’t complain. It doesn’t slow me down.”
“I’m glad to hear it, ma’am.” Knowing that I needed to remember my manners before Miss Sissie pinched my arm to remind me, I stepped back slightly. “Miss Sissie, do you know Dr. Deanna Reynolds? Deanna, this is Miss Sissie.”
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, no.” Miss Sissie held out her hand, allowing Deanna to shake it. “Do you work at the hospital, too, dear?”
“Yeah, I’m a cardiologist,” Deanna responded.
Miss Sissie’s mouth tightened just a little, and I had a feeling I knew why. It was likely a mixture of Deanna’s casual reply, lacking in the use of a respectful ma’am’, and the unmistakable Yankee accent in which it was said.
“How lovely for you.” The older woman gripped her purse a little tighter.
“Miss Sissie, would you like to join us? I can pull up a seat and get you a tea, if you’d like.” I glanced around for an available chair.
“Thank you, darlin’, but I’m here to meet with my Progressive Ladies of the South Society.” She pointed to the corner where four women of various ages were grouped around a table, waving to us.
“What’s the Progressive Ladies of the South Society?” Deanna smirked, and there was an almost condescending undertone in her voice that I knew Miss Sissie wouldn’t miss.
I was right. Miss Sissie drew herself up to her full, diminutive height and lifted one fine eyebrow.
“We are a group of women who desire to present to the world an alternative to the stereotypical Southern woman who clings to old, tired ways. We’re educated, we read, and we make up our own minds about politics, religion, and issues of social justice.”
“Oh, that’s the cutest thing.” Deanna laughed.
I winced. Making fun of someone like Miss Sissie just wasn’t done. Also, her laughter kind of irritated me, because Miss Sissie was my friend and someone I loved almost as much as I did my own grandparents. I felt as though I should defend her, but before I could formulate a plan, Miss Sissie spoke up.
“Dr. Reynolds, dear, are you married?”
Deanna shook her head. “No. Not yet.”
“Oh, well, then, I have good news for you. My neighbor down the street would be a perfect match. He’s quite the carpenter and a very lovely man, but his family has a long and sad history with a very rare heart condition. I think you’d find it fascinating.”
“Oh, well, I don’t think—”
“He was just telling me the other day that one of the big hospitals up north is trying to convince the family to be part of a ground-breaking study, but they really would like to work with someone at St. Agnes.”
Deanna frowned and leaned forward. “Do you know what this rare heart condition is called?”
“Oh, my, let me