Читать книгу Rom-Com Collection - Kristan Higgins - Страница 16

“BOOM-BOOM-BOOM, GOTTA get-get!” I sang the following week.

“Boom-boom-boom, gotta get-get!” my students obligingly echoed, much to my delight. Of course, this was our seventh time through the song, and so far, only Jody Bingham had the moves down.

I’d taken a vacation day today; it was the after-school Brownie field trip, and I’d swung by the Senior Center for lunch (small town, not much going on, people who liked to see my smiling face … you get the picture). My yoga ladies had been clucking in dismay … Leslie hadn’t shown up for the Senior Citizen Flex class. Loath to miss an opportunity to be a jewel, I plugged my iPod into the stereo and was teaching my very first hip-hop lesson. See, much to the pity and disgust of Kiara, my college roommate who happened to be a dance major from Trinidad, I knew a few moves—oh, yeah. Uh-huh. Clearly, I was the hippest white girl in the state of Vermont (which wasn’t saying much, but still).

I crisscrossed my arms, looking very gangsta, I was sure. “Side, step, kick, back! Again! Don’t forget those arms!” I said, doing my best impression of a young and very cool person. Not a great impression, mind you, but considering my audience, I might as well have been Soulja Boy. “Boom-boom-boom!”

“Boom-boom-boom!” the ladies echoed.

“Watch that hip, Mary!” I shouted over the music. “Don’t want to lose your investment! Carol, look at you, you trashy thing! You got it, girl!”

Our rather different style of music (Leslie chose that drippy harp and flute stuff designed to make you either narcoleptic or homicidal) had drawn quite a crowd. In the back were about a dozen appreciative senior males, including, I was shocked to see, Noah. He stood in between Josephine, who was dancing quite competently and putting us all to shame, and Bronte, who was clearly suffering a moment of adolescent humiliation the likes of which the world had never seen, thanks to her auntie. I pointed at her and increased my swagger as I shuffled and hopped, earning a magnificent eye roll as a prize.

When the song was over, I staggered over to the stereo and turned off the music. “That was great, ladies! Next you’ll all be dancing in some rap video on VH1!”

My peeps laughed, clearly delighted with their new status, then grabbed towels to wipe the sweat from their wrinkled brows.

“How’s work, Callie?” Jody asked, stretching her arms behind her back as if they were rubber bands.

“Work’s … it’s fine,” I said, almost telling the truth.

After the hike last week, we’d all had a merry dinner with Muriel’s dad and his minions. Charles had made sure I sat next to him, and it seemed like a great success. My defection was made light of (I stuck with the no-lunch theory), and we’d all laughed and swapped stories and had a great time. Except that Muriel kept shooting me evil looks across the table, which I resented. It wasn’t like I was about to wrestle her dear old dad to the floor and have my way with him … he just seemed to be one of those flirty older men who enjoyed women. When I failed to show the proper contrition, she employed a more effective strategy … kissing Mark. That one … that one worked.

I shook off the memory. Mark could be with Muriel if he wanted to. I was supposed to be moving on.

“So you’re happy there?” Jody asked.

“Sure,” I answered. “You bet.”

“Well. Good for you, hon. See you soon, I hope.” She squeezed my arm, eliciting a little wince on my part, then walked over to Noah, smiling her big smile. Yeah. Good luck, Jody, I thought. Noah would eat a baby before even looking at someone who wasn’t Gran.

“That was so much fun,” Elmira Butkes said, coming up for a little chat. “You’ll have to teach us more next week. Yoga is such a bore compared to this. I loved that music! The Black-Eyed Susans, you said?” She fished around in her giant pink vinyl purse and withdrew a notepad and pen.

“Peas. Black-Eyed Peas,” I answered, hoping her hearing aid hadn’t picked up the obscenity-strewn lyrics. “But I can’t really teach. That was the only dance I know. I’m a one-trick pony.”

“No!” she cried staunchly. “You’re so talented.”

“You’re really not,” Bronte said as she approached. “You shouldn’t ever dance in public again, Callie. I’m totally serious. Plus, you’re, like, way too old to listen to the Black-Eyed Peas.”

I feigned outrage. “I am not! I’m young and incredibly cool. Besides, who introduced you to them in the first place, huh? I’ve liked Fergie since she was first dating Leo from All My Children, thank you very much!”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Whatever, Callie.”

“What are you doing here, sweetie?” I asked.

“Mom still won’t let me get off the bus alone, so I had to go to Noah’s because Grammy was, like … working.” My niece shuddered. “And Noah had to drop Josie off with you, and I had to come because no one in this family, like, acknowledges the fact that I’m way too old to be dragged around like chattel.”

I regarded my niece, impressed with both her sulkiness and her vocabulary. “What’s the matter, hon?” I asked, unable to resist petting her pretty cheek.

“There’s like this stupid, idiotic father-daughter dance at school this weekend, and like, of course I can’t go.” She glared at me in the way only a teen can manage … disdain, fury, vulnerability all rolled into one hot glare.

“Poppy would go with you, Bronte! He would love that!”

“I don’t want to go with my grandfather. If I don’t, like, have a dad, forget it.” Her eyes filled. Though Bronte had never met him, her biological father had died in Iraq, and of course, Hester had not provided an alternate father figure. “Do I, like, have to go on this stupid field trip?” she asked.

“No, sweetheart. You can stay with the grumpy old man, if you want.” I studied her mercurial face. “You want to talk about the dad thing?”

“No,” she said, then, realizing she was treating her beloved aunt with contempt that should only be reserved for her mother, gave me a grudging smile. “But thanks, Callie.”

“You’re welcome, baby. I’m always here.”

“I know,” she said. “You, like, tell me every week.” She gave another eye roll and glided away. My admiration for my sister grew. One thing to have children … another to keep them when they hit adolescence.

It was nice to be away from the office. The mood at Green Mountain had changed once the BTR people went back to San Diego. Ever since, Mark had barely spoken to me; we were busy, but still. There was something about being a child of divorce … I’d always felt somehow responsible for everyone’s mood. If I was cute and cheerful enough, I believed, everyone would be happy. If they weren’t, clearly I wasn’t trying hard enough. That was how it felt with Mark these days … like I was somehow failing him. And Muriel … forget it. What she actually did remained a mystery, though she sat at her desk each day, dressed to kill in her black and white—I had yet to see her in a color—clattering away on her keyboard.

“Are you ready, Auntie?” Josephine asked, grabbing my hand and nearly wrenching my arm from the socket. “Can we go? Please? Are you ready? Can we please go?”

“Sure, honey. We just have to swing by my place so I can change, and then we’ll be on our way. You have directions, right?”

“In my backpack,” Josephine replied. “Come on! I don’t want to be late!”

“We won’t be late, sugarplum,” I said. “Come here. Are you too big for Auntie to pick you up?” I scooped her into my arms. “Oh, I see that you are! Blerk! I almost dropped you!” I pretended to let go for a second, a game she always loved, and received her musical giggle as reward.

I set her down, took her hand and headed toward Noah. And get this. He was talking. To Jody, a woman who was not related to him by blood! This was a change. Jody had worked her magic, because Noah, while not looking exactly joyful, had not run for the door, either.

“Noah?” I called. “I’m taking Josephine to her Brownies meeting. Bronte’s going to stay with you.”

“Fine,” he grunted. He glanced over at Bronte, who was reading The Iliad. “You can sand.”

“Oh, joy, oh rapture unforeseen,” she returned without looking up.

“She’s a smart-ass, that one,” Noah said, unable to suppress a proud smile.

“You’ve got to love a child who reads,” Jody agreed.

I leaned in to give Noah a hug. “You could do a lot worse than Jody Bingham,” I whispered. He swatted my shoulder. “Ow. You hurt me. I may file charges,” I said. “Bye, Jody! Bye, Grampy! Love you!”

“Bye, Grampy! I love you!” Josephine echoed. There. Made him look good even if he resented it.

HALF AN HOUR LATER, I was clean and sweet-smelling and wearing comfortable pants so I could eat lots of Cabot’s cheese, food baby or no food baby. Josephine bounced on my bed, Bowie barking in approval. “Give me the directions, honey,” I ordered.

She hopped down and dug in her backpack, then handed me a sheet of paper. “Can I wear some of your lip gloss?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, scanning the sheet. Oh, heck! We weren’t going to a cheese bar … we were going to the Georgebury Veterinarian Practice. Ian’s, in other words. Huh. Clearly, this must’ve been set up long ago by Dr. Kumar, because I just couldn’t imagine Ian welcoming in a bunch of giggling five-year-old girls.

I was right, I found out twenty minutes later.

“Dr. McFarland will be right out,” Carmella Landi said for the fifth time.

“Marissa, don’t eat that, sweetie,” I said over the din. “It’s for doggies. Spit it out.” I turned to Carmella. “Is he hiding?” I asked.

“I think so,” she said. “He looked like he was passing a kidney stone when I told him this was on the calendar.” We both laughed merrily.

“How’s business?” I asked.

She sobered a bit. “Well, it’s a little quiet. Dr. Kumar was so … lovable. This guy … not so much. People want someone to worship their pets like they do. Dr. McFarland’s kind of an iceberg, know what I mean?”

“I do.” Clearly, Ian needed my professional help.

Given that the girls weren’t breaking anything yet and Michaela Oh, the other chaperone, was meting out bribes in the form of Life Savers, I took the opportunity to wander down the hall and find our host. The place seemed mostly empty. A tech I didn’t know was getting ready to go … there was no sign of Earl, my old buddy.

As I passed an open door, Ian’s beautiful Irish setter rose gracefully to her feet. “Hi, Angie!” I said, kneeling to pet her and, apparently unable to help myself, began channeling Mick Jagger once more. ‘“Angie … Aaannngie … You can’t say we never—’”

At that moment, Ian emerged from his office, looking much as Carmella had just described him. He wore a suit, but in place of a jacket, he had on the expected white lab coat with his name embroidered in black. His shirt was blue, his tie red, and he looked … well, formal. Stiff. But kind of nice, too. Aside from creepy Louis, I didn’t know a single man who wore suits. There was a lot of Carhartt up here, a lot of flannel. Ian … he stood out. Once again, the image of a Russian assassin came to mind. I smiled up at him, and Angie’s tail swished.

He did a double take when he saw me squatting on the ground with his dog. “What are you doing here, Callie?” he asked. “Don’t tell me one of those … children … is yours.” He swallowed.

“See, that’s exactly what I could help you with,” I said, my smile dropping like lead. I stood up. “A more appropriate greeting would be, ‘Hello, Callie, it’s so nice to see you!’ And is it really so hard to imagine that some guy found me attractive enough to knock up? Hmm?” No wonder business was off.

He rubbed his jaw. “I didn’t mean … I—never mind.” He looked down the hall, where the noise level in the waiting room was approaching home-run-in-the-bottom-of-the-ninth levels. I took pity on him.

“I’m here with my niece. Don’t worry. We’ll make this as painless as possible.” He looked dubious. “Come on, big boy,” I encouraged. “They don’t bite. Well, Mariah and Paige might, but the rest of them are completely safe.

“Girls!” I said, opening the half door into the waiting room and shouting a bit to be heard. “Dr. McFarland is here, and he’s so happy that you all came to learn about how he takes care of animals! Dr. McFarland, thank you so much for seeing us!”

He looked at the girls like a wounded calf might regard a school of underfed piranhas. “Hello,” he said.

“I have three dogs!” Keira Kinell shouted, lifting her skort and dancing in place. “They’re purebreds! They cost $4,000 each!”

“I have a cat named Eddie and he’s so cute!” Hayley McIntyre claimed.

“No, you don’t!” said Josephine hotly. “You don’t have a cat. I was just at your house! That cat is fake!”

“He’s not fake!” retorted Tess McIntyre, Hayley’s twin. “He’s imaginary! And he didn’t like you, so he hid!”

“I have a pony and two dogs and a hamster,” Kayelin Owens said, “except the hamster died and I found it in the cage and it was all curled up into a ball and I cried and my mother said it was in heaven so we buried it in the backyard!”

Ian looked as if electrodes were being applied to various parts of his body. Again, I grinned. “Dr. McFarland is going to give us a tour, girls! You can see where he does all that vet stuff that keeps our pets healthy. Right, Dr. McFarland?” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “All right. Um, please don’t touch anything and follow me.”

“Good luck!” Carmella said, booting up solitaire on her computer. Michaela and I herded the girls into the rough approximation of a line and followed Ian down the hall.

“This is the operating room—please don’t touch that,” he said, as Keira began fondling an oxygen tank. Keira looked at him assessingly—she was a piece of work, that one—and, correctly assessing his efficacy, touched it again.

“Hands in your pockets, Keira,” I said, and she obeyed with a mutter.

Ian took a deep breath. “Well, this is where we operate when—”

“Do you cut out uteruseses?” Josephine asked, proud of her vocabulary, given that her mommy was a doctor.

“Um … sometimes,” Ian said. “We call that spaying.”

“What about peniseses?”

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh.

“Well, not exactly, no.”

“What’s a girl dog called?” Tess asked, smiling angelically. “It rhymes with ‘witch.’”

Ian, sensing that he was being led into a trap, glanced at me. I shrugged. Ian decided to ignore that question and attempted to educate the girls. “It’s important that a dog or cat or any pet doesn’t have a litter unless—”

“I never litter,” said Caroline Biddle.

“Not that kind of litter!” Keira shouted. “Dummy!”

Caroline looked like Keira had slapped her. “Keira, apologize to Caroline immediately,” I ordered.

“Sorry!” Keira sang with great insincerity, and my jaw clenched, something like hatred rising hot and ugly in my chest. Keira was the daughter of New Vermonters and new money, and a nastier, more spoiled child there had never been. And Caroline, who often played with Josephine, was a special-needs kid, sweet as a butterfly. I wasn’t sure what her official diagnosis was, but since I volunteered in Josephine’s kindergarten, I knew that Caroline was a few years behind her peers.

I took Caroline’s hand and kissed it, and she gave me a watery smile, making me wish all sorts of misery on Keira. That the Jonas Brothers would come to Georgebury and forbid Keira to come to the concert, where Caroline would have a front-row seat. That her purebred dogs ate the heads off all her Barbies. That … well … other bad stuff. But not too bad. She was just a kid, after all. It was her parents who really deserved to be punished.

“Do dogs sometimes die in here?” Hayley asked.

“Yes,” he said. We all waited for more. More never came.

“Are there ghostses?” she persisted, clearly hoping for something a little more colorful.

“No,” Ian answered, jamming his hands in his pockets.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Marissa said, and Michaela led her from the room.

“Dr. McFarland,” I said, “can you tell us some of the most common operations you do?”

He shot me a grateful look. “Okay, well, we neuter and spay animals so they can’t, um, have babies. Sometimes, animals get something stuck in their intestinal tract, their stomachs, so we might have to operate for that. Uh … I remove tumors, set broken bones—please don’t touch that,” he said as Hayley began squeezing the pump on a blood pressure cuff.

“Maybe we could move on, Dr. McFarland,” I suggested.

“Sure,” he said, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.

“I broke my leg once,” Paige offered. “I screamed so loud. Then I got candy at the hospital.”

“My mommy screamed when she had my little brother,” Leah Lewis said. “She said it was beautiful, but I heard the screaming and I’m never having babies. I only want puppies.”

We herded the girls back into the hall. “Ian, why don’t you examine Angie and sort of show them what you look for,” I suggested in a low voice. “And if you gave out a souvenir, that would be great.”

“I don’t have souvenirs, Callie. This is not a gift shop,” he said tightly.

“Tongue depressors, Ian. Cotton balls. They’re five. They won’t care.”

He nodded. Swallowed.

“You’re doing fine,” I said, laying my hand on his arm. “They’re just kids.” He gave me a dark look, as if I’d just said, It’s just a pit of poisonous vipers, Ian, but he went down the hall to his office to fetch his dog.

Michaela and I crammed the girls into an exam room. “Crisscross, applesauce,” I called out, and like magic, all the girls collapsed Indian-style on the floor. When Ian brought Angie in, they squealed in delight.

“She’s so pretty!”

“I want a dog like that!”

“Can I ride her?”

“No, you can’t ride her,” Ian said, but he smiled. He gently lifted Angie up onto the metal exam table. “This is Angie, my dog.”

“Does she know any tricks?” Josephine asked. “Auntie’s dog pulls her up the hills when she rides her bike!”

“Is that right?” Ian asked, glancing at me. His eyes smiled, and something fluttered in my stomach. “No, Angie doesn’t know too many tricks, but she’s very well-behaved. Now, the first thing I do when someone brings in a dog is try to make friends with it. Like this. Hi, Angie. You’re a good dog, aren’t you?”

“Does she ever talk back?” Hayley asked, and the girls dissolved into giggles.

Ian smiled a bit uncertainly, almost like he wasn’t sure if he was included in the joke, and my heart lurched. Suddenly, it occurred to me that despite the fact that he looked like a Russian assassin and acted like an iceberg, Ian McFarland might be a little … well … shy.

It was oddly appealing.

For the next few minutes, Ian showed the girls what a routine exam looked like, holding their interest pretty well, considering that they had the attention span of hummingbirds.

“I think I want to be a vet,” Caroline said, pushing her thick glasses up her nose. “Do you have to be smart to be a vet?”

“Yes, dummy, so that means you can’t,” Keira answered immediately.

The words were as sharp and vicious as a razor, and for a second, I was knocked speechless. Caroline bowed her head. “Keira, you’re done!” I said sharply, jolting out of my seat. “Out in the waiting room, right now.” Oh, would that the Brownie handbook would allow me to … I don’t know … do something to change her evil little heart and make her see how cruel she was. My own eyes filled with helpless, angry tears, and my fists clenched.

“I’ll get this,” Michaela whispered, taking Keira by the shoulder.

“What?” Keira demanded as she was steered out of the room. “I didn’t lie! She’s not smart enough!”

The room was silent, the other ten girls realizing that Keira had crossed a line. Josephine, God bless her, put her hand on Caroline’s back, but Caroline didn’t move, just stared at the floor.

“In order to be a vet, Caroline,” Ian said matter-of-factly, kneeling down in front of her, “you have to have a big heart. Do you have one of those?”

Caroline didn’t look up. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“She does,” Josephine confirmed.

“You do, Caroline,” Hayley seconded.

“Would you be very gentle? Sometimes the animals are scared,” Ian said seriously.

Caroline gave a minuscule nod, still not raising her head.

“You also have to love animals. All different kinds.”

“I do,” she whispered. “Even snakes.”

“Well, then,” Ian said. “Sounds like you’d make a great vet.”

She looked up at him. “Really?” she asked, her voice wobbly. Ian nodded.

My tears sloshed over, and in that moment, I loved Ian McFarland. Quite a lot, in fact. And Josephine and Hayley should get medals of honor, as far as I was concerned. I wiped my eyes surreptitiously, not wanting the other girls to see me cry.

Ian stood up and took a stethoscope out of his coat pocket. He held it out to Caroline. “Want to listen to Angie’s heart?”

“Can I, too?” Marissa asked.

“Can I? Can I?” the other girls chorused.

Caroline forgot Keira’s nasty remark in the thrill of using real live medical equipment, and Angie, who must’ve sensed that the little girl needed some extra love, licked her face. Caroline’s smile lit up the room.

Half an hour later, the girls were once again shrieking with glee in the waiting room, as Ian had given them each a pair of latex gloves and my gifted niece had blown hers up into an udder-like balloon. As they played makeshift volleyball, I went over to Ian, who was watching from behind the half door that led to the exam rooms.

“You did great,” I said. “Especially with Caroline.”

He gave a formal little nod of acknowledgment. “Thank you for your help.”

“Was it hell?” I asked, smiling.

“A bit,” he admitted. One corner of his mouth rose a fraction. He could use a shave, I noted, and suddenly my knees were a little weak.

At that moment, Hester came in through the door. “Hi, Josephine!” she boomed, scooping up her daughter and kissing her loudly. “Did you have fun with the vet?”

“I did!” Josephine said. “We saw his dog!”

Hester set Josephine down and lumbered over to Ian and me. “Guess what?” she said to me. “My fifty-four-year-old patient is pregnant! Isn’t that great?”

“So great,” I said. “Um, Hes, this is Ian McFarland, the new vet. Ian, this is my sister, Dr. Hester Grey.”

“You know,” Hester said in her loud, bouncing voice, “I thought about being a vet. But I’m not really fond of animals, and my scores weren’t high enough. Had to go slumming in plain old medical school. Johns Hopkins. Where’d you go?”

“Tufts,” Ian said.

“Impressive,” Hester practically shouted. “Our brother just dropped out of Tufts.”

“How was your seminar?” I asked.

“It was great. All sorts of new hormone therapies, just waiting to plump up Miss Egg for Mr. Sperm. Well, gotta run. See you soon, Callie. Nice meeting you, Owen.”

“It’s Ian,” I corrected, but my sister was already halfway out the door. “She’s a fertility doctor,” I informed Ian.

“I remember,” he said. At my look, he added, “From the DMV.”

“You love to bring that up, don’t you?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Her daughter looks just like her,” he observed.

“I know,” I said. “Which is funny, since both Hester’s kids are adopted.” I looked up at him. “Do you have kids, Ian?”

He shook his head. “No. No, my ex-wife … no. We didn’t.”

There was more to that story, I could tell, but whatever discussion might have ensued was swallowed as the latest batch of mothers came to fetch their Brownies. One of them was Taylor Kinell, Keira the Cruel’s mother. She was clad in expensive, skintight and age-inappropriate clothing … anemic T-shirt with fabric so thin it was basically gauze, low-slung dark jeans, hand-torn by the designer, no doubt. She bent down and opened her arms to Keira, giving us a flash of her tramp stamp and thong. “Hello, baby girl!” she cooed in the general direction of her child, though she was looking at Ian. Ah. Mother of the year parades wares in front of hottie vet. Sure enough, she whipped off her Prada sunglasses and blasted a huge smile at Ian.

“I have paperwork to do,” Ian muttered. With that, he fled down the hall to his office. I couldn’t blame him.

Walking over to Taylor Kinell, I slapped on a fake smile. “Taylor, we had a little problem today with Keira,” I began.

“Mommy! Mommy? Mommy!” Keira began, tugging her mother’s hand. “You said we could go out for dinner! I want to go out for dinner! I hate eating at home! Can we go? Mommy! Mommy? I’m bored! This was so boring! Mommy! You said we could eat out!”

“Yes, honey, I said we could. Where do you want to go, huh?” Taylor said. Keira kept yanking her mother’s anemic arm so hard I was surprised she didn’t rip it off and, being Keira, start gnawing on it.

“Keira, I’m talking to your mother right now,” I said patiently. She was only a kid, after all. Being evil was probably more nurture than nature.

“So? I’m hungry! Let’s go, Mommy!”

“Taylor, Keira made fun of another child today, twice, and as you know, bullying isn’t allowed in Brownies. Or really, anywhere else, right? Keira, saying mean things hurts people’s feelings, honey.”

“I don’t care,” Keira said.

Ooh. I turned to look at Taylor once more. “She won’t be able to stay in Brownies if she doesn’t learn some basic manners. Keira, would you like it if someone called you a dummy?”

“Which no one would, because you’re so smart, angel-love,” Taylor said immediately, shooting me a death glare. “As for Brownies, we were planning on leaving anyway. It’s a little bourgeois. Come on, baby. You can have two desserts tonight. Let’s go.”

My blood pressure bubbled dangerously. Did Taylor think she was doing her child a favor, raising her that way? I almost felt sorry for Keira. In ten years, she’d be the despised popular girl in high school, no true friends, everyone gossiping about her behind her back as she wielded her parents’ money like a weapon.

“Thanks for chaperoning, Callie,” said Sarah, Caroline Biddle’s mother. She held her daughter by the hand, her face bright with the joy of seeing her child again. Now here was a mother.

“Oh, my pleasure,” I said, then paused. “Did Michaela speak to you?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she answered, her eyes speaking volumes. “Please tell Dr. McFarland he’s CNN’s hero of the year, as far as I’m concerned.”

I smiled. “Will do. Sorry I couldn’t … do more.” Once again, the thought of Caroline’s dejected little face made my throat grow tight.

Sarah smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Caroline, thank Callie for the special day, honey.”

“Thank you, Callie!” the little girl said, locking her arms around my thighs and hugging tight. “Bye! I love you!”

“Bye, sweetness,” I said, smiling down at her. “I love you, too.” I watched as they left, Caroline chattering away, beaming, still holding her mommy’s hand, and I couldn’t help feeling a pang of envy at the sight of them, mother and child, so adoring of each other that nothing and no one else mattered. Caroline’s dad was a prince, a builder who thought the sun rose and set on his wife and child. Annie, Jack and Seamus were like that, too. The three of them together—the essence of happiness. Everything else was gravy.

The last of the Brownies left, and the office was abruptly quiet. “Callie?” I jumped. Ian had reemerged from his office, now that the coast was clear. “Can I see you for a minute?”

“Sure! Sure, of course.”

“Ian, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Carmella said. “Great seeing you, Callie. Nice job with the ankle biters.” “Thanks.” I grinned.

I followed Ian to his office, where Angie was sleeping, curled in her dog bed. The room was orderly—that was putting it mildly—but it wasn’t sterile, not like Muriel’s black-and-white blank space. My own office was cheerfully cluttered, occasionally bordering on chaotic, sticky notes and photos scattered hither and yon, coffee mugs and the like. Ian’s, on the other hand, was very tidy. There were his diplomas, NYU undergrad, Tufts for his DVM. Shelves with heavy textbooks, a small sculpture of a dog. On the wall was a rather nice painting of a sailboat, lots of juicy oil and texture.

But most interesting of all was the framed photo on the cabinet behind his desk. It showed a younger Ian and a very, very beautiful woman. Long blond hair, creamy skin, bone structure to rival Natalie Portman’s. They were both smiling, and an unexpected twinge hit my heart. Ian looked very happy in that picture.

“Your wife?” I asked.

He glanced at it. “Ex-wife.”

Not quite ex in your heart, pal, if you keep her picture here to torture yourself every day. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Yes.” He said nothing else.

“Ian?” I said after a minute had passed.

“Yes?”

“You wanted to speak to me, remember? Though this is quite fun, too.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “Right.” He sighed. “I think I might need to hire you. If you think you can really do something, that is.”

“The warm and fuzzy campaign!” I clapped my hands, startling him. “Good for you, Ian. This will be great!”

“Will it?” he asked.

“Oh, come on. I’m not the dentist, for heaven’s sake.” At that moment, my stomach growled.

“Not again,” Ian said.

“Hush. I’m just hungry. I had a hard day. First I taught old women to hip-hop, then I had to herd the Brownies. Want to grab some dinner? We can talk about things while we eat.”

Ian looked wary. “All right,” he said after much deliberation.

“We can go to Elements,” I suggested. “It’s near where I live, and I can swing by and grab my laptop.”

“Fine,” Ian said. He looked at me steadily for a minute. Man, those eyes were so … blue. Betty Boop folded her hands under her chin and sighed deeply.

“Okay,” I said, remembering that I was a professional person and this was not prom night. “Um … do you know where it is? It’s a little bit hard to find, because it’s down this little one-way street, then you have to sort of turn into a parking lot, but it doesn’t look like a parking lot, it’s more of an alley, but it leads—”

“Why don’t I just follow you?” he suggested drily.

I smiled. “That, Dr. McFarland, is a great idea.”