you do, too,” Estelle declared. “Jinni always had a vase of flowers in your room when you were feeling ill, and you loved looking at them. You said you did, anyway.”
Val heaved a sigh. “Okay, fine, I do like flowers in the house, but I don’t like Reed Kingsley’s flowers.”
“Now, that makes sense,” Estelle said dryly. “Should I throw them out?”
“I’ll do that myself. Let’s talk about something else. Jim, I think those pups might be full-blooded Labs.”
“Well, the mother sure is. Why in heck someone would desert a nice dog like her sure beats me.”
The female Labrador had been hanging around the Animal Hospital for several days before Jim brought her inside. He’d been putting food out for her because she obviously had no home.
Val had then examined her and told Jim to put her in the Dog House to await the birth of her pups—the large area designed and constructed for the care and kenneling of dogs. The Animal Hospital also had a Cat House. That name often tickled Jim’s funny bone, which it had done to Val, too, when she’d thought it up and had signs made for both of the kennel areas.
They all chatted about the animals presently under Val’s care until the end of the meal. Jim and Estelle had a slice of cake with a dollop of whipped cream on it, but Val just sipped her tea and waited for them to finish.
“I’ll take care of the dishes,” she told Estelle. “You did enough today.”
“Well…the pans I used are already washed and put away. I suppose putting the dishes into the dishwasher wouldn’t be too strenuous for you. All right, we’ll go on home. Come on, Jim, I’m just about ready for bed.”
Val rose from her chair. “You worked hard all day. You always do much more than I pay you to do, Estelle.”
The older woman waved her hand. “We’ll have none of that now. I know my limits and I rarely overdo.”
“This house was never kept as clean as it’s been since you took over,” Val said.
“Well, I do like things clean and smelling good.”
Val followed Estelle and Jim around until they had collected their things and left through the back door. Immediately Val felt the silence of the house, but she didn’t mind it. Sometimes she liked being alone, which had a lot to do with why she had bought her cabin in the mountains. Whenever she felt crushed under the weight of old memories or current problems, she drove the eighty miles to the cabin and absorbed the peace and quiet for a weekend.
She’d been thinking a lot about her rustic cabin lately, and she considered going to the mountains this coming weekend. She was well enough now to make the drive, wasn’t she? If only those darn weak spells would stop. She’d discussed them with her doctor, and he’d told her they were normal and would gradually subside.
Okay, she decided, I’ll go to the cabin this weekend if there are no more spells this week. If there are, then maybe I’ll put it off for another week.
Val was in the kitchen, wiping down the counters and the front of the appliances, when something on the floor caught her eye. It was small and white and lying under the edge of a cabinet. Estelle had obviously missed seeing it or it wouldn’t be there. Val bent over and picked it up. It was a small envelope with a Jilly’s Lilies logo in the upper left corner, and it was sealed.
Obviously it had come with the flowers and fallen to the floor before Estelle had seen it. Frowning, because it of course contained a message from Reed Kingsley, Val thought about tossing it in the trash without opening it.
She couldn’t quite do that, and grimacing over what could only be described as plain nosiness, she slit the tiny envelope open with a knife and extracted the card. Embossed at the very top of it were two words: Sweet Talk.
Val moved to a chair and sank down on it. Sweet Talk. For God’s sake, why would Reed Kingsley pick out a card with that heading? Below it, of course, was some handwriting—his, obviously.
Val, I can sweet-talk with the best of them but, strangely, not with you. Still, I keep wishing you’d give me the chance to try sometime. Anytime. Forgive my transgressions, if you can, and let yourself see the real me. Reed K.
Groaning, Val put her arms on the table and her head on them. He wanted to “sweet-talk” her? Why? Damn it, why?
Chapter Four
Val’s announcement appeared in the morning newspaper, and the phone at the Animal Hospital started ringing before she even opened the place for business. When she walked into her office there were messages on her answering machine, and she pushed the Play button to hear them.
“Dr. Fairchild, this is Ruth Machler. I’m so pleased you’re feeling better. I’m sure you recall my little dog, Spotty. He’s fine right now and doesn’t need an appointment, but I just had to let you know how relieved I am to hear you’re all right.”
“Good morning, Valerie. This is Harry Lund. So glad you’re in good health again. My family and I prayed for you all during your ordeal. Valerie, I was going to drive Pumpkin to Whitehorn to have her teeth cleaned, but I would much rather bring her to you. I’d like to make an appointment for tomorrow, if possible. Please let me know.”
“Hello, Doc. My heavens but I was delighted to read that announcement in the paper this morning. I, and many of my friends, were so worried about you. I can’t begin to describe how thrilled we all are that you beat that dreadful illness and are back to work full-time.”
The messages went on and on, almost every one of them conveying worry for her health and gladness that she was well again. The kindness and consideration of the community—some who left messages weren’t customers—stunned Valerie. She sat at her desk in amazement while the messages played one after another.
Jim walked in and realized what was going on. He sat down and listened, and after the machine switched off, he smiled. “Sounds like Rumor loves you, Doc.”
Before Val could reply to his remark, the telephone rang. She reached for it but didn’t pick it up immediately. “I…I’m truly touched, Jim,” she said with a catch in her voice.
He nodded and got to his feet. “The dogs and cats are fed. I’m going to clean out the kennels now. Is there anything special you want done this morning?”
“Not that I can think of. Thanks, Jim. Catch you later.” She picked up the phone and said, “Animal Hospital.”
It was a busy, stimulating day. People dropped in with their pets, some without a pet. Val felt very much as she had during those quite enjoyable years when she’d been as close to genuine happiness as she’d ever expected to get. She hadn’t asked a lot out of life for a very long time; working with animals, and having her own home and veterinary practice, had been enough. And it had never occurred to her that something might be missing in her day-to-day existence.
Now she wondered about that, although she wasn’t at all thrilled with the notion that a silly, certainly unsolicited message about sweet talk on a florist’s card could actually make her rethink all that she’d made of her life. She did know, however, that an element she’d never expected to intrude upon her peace of mind was now doing exactly that. Behind
