“You mean he isn’t?” Hope flared. Naw, he had to be married—and probably had a passel of kids to boot. All in diapers, no doubt. Knowing the type of doctor he was convinced Marjorie that Sam Bretton would be a devoted husband and father. She, on the other hand, was definitely not the mother type.

“I don’t know anything about a wife,” Lydia answered thoughtfully, chewing on the corner of her bottom lip. “I really don’t think he’s married. I can’t remember seeing a wedding band, can you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Marjorie muttered. He’d been wonderful…more than wonderful, but she had far more important matters to deal with that didn’t involve risking her heart over a physician whose second job entailed throwing women’s equilibriums off balance.

In order to change the subject, Marjorie scooted her gaze past Lydia to the bouquet of carnations and roses on the bedside table. “Thanks for the flowers.”

“Hey, no problem. They’re from all the salespeople at Dixon.”

“All?” Marjorie cocked one delicately shaped brow suspiciously. “Even Al Swanson?”

Lydia grinned sheepishly. “He tossed in a buck and suggested I buy a cactus.”

That Marjorie could believe. Al had made it clear that he didn’t approve of women in the car business. That was tough, she mused, since she was at Dixon Motors for the long haul, no matter what Al or anyone else thought. It wasn’t that Al had taken a dislike to her and her alone. He had a problem with everyone. He had yet to learn that sales work was often a team effort. Marjorie’s gut feeling was that Al Swanson wouldn’t be around Dixon much longer.

“Oh!” Lydia exclaimed. “I nearly forgot. Dr. Sam phoned and told me to get the key to your apartment so I could pick up some personal items you’re going to need.”

Once again the man had amazed Marjorie with his thoughtfulness. “I hate to put you to all the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. Honest. You’d do the same thing for me.”

Marjorie smiled her thanks. Accepting anyone’s assistance was difficult for her—more than it should have been, she realized. She’d practically raised Jody with little or no help from any state agencies. With a limited college education, she’d forged her own way in the world, designed her career, and earned enough to support herself and pay for her sister’s college tuition. Sam Bretton had the wrong impression of her, and to Marjorie’s utter embarrassment, she had to admit she’d been the one to give it to him.

“The key,” Lydia reminded her.

“Oh, it’s in my purse.” Guessing where it would be stored, she nodded toward the closet door.

Lydia stood and moved in that direction. “Dr. Sam gave me a list, but you might want to read it over.”