odd thing was that she seemed familiar, and yet for the life of him he couldn’t think why. He didn’t own a dog, and he wasn’t the type of guy who forgot the women he dated. Could she be a friend of a friend? Someone he’d met in a group?
He asked a few more questions about his niece, ended the call and poured himself a whiskey. He drank it neat, but it did nothing to salve his conscience.
He had a right to be annoyed, but he didn’t have a right to make her the target of his frustration.
Since when had he been a bully?
To work off his tension, he grabbed two large garbage bags and started cleaning the apartment. He tried to look on the positive side. At least the dog didn’t seem to have bathroom issues. There was no water damage. Nothing lasting. The dog—he had to remember to call it Madi. Madi Madi—hadn’t peed.
But what if tomorrow she did?
What if tomorrow she took her boredom out on his sofa? And if she carried on howling it would make him unpopular with his neighbors. He didn’t have time to deal with aggravation in his private life. Hopefully Harriet would return with the dog, but even if she did the problem wouldn’t be solved. There was tomorrow to think about. And the next day.
He took his frustrations out on the cleaning and didn’t stop until the place was shining. No one would have guessed a dog had ever entered his apartment.
He’d cleared up the last of the mess when the doorman called up to tell him Harriet was downstairs.
Despite the fact that he was about to let the perpetrator of the mess back into his apartment, Ethan felt nothing but relief.
She’d returned with the dog and saved him difficult explanations and more stress.
He opened the door and Harriet walked straight past him, keeping her head down.
Ethan closed the door carefully, knowing he had a situation far more complicated to unravel than the one with Mrs. Crouch.
What was the best approach? Should he raise the fact that she’d stammered? Should he apologize or would that embarrass her more? No, it was probably better to pretend he hadn’t noticed. He’d keep his apology general.
“I apologize for shouting. Not that it’s an excuse, but I had a difficult day.”
Finally she looked at him, and her eyes were accusatory and angry. “So did Madi.”
He tried again. “I meant that my day was difficult before I arrived home. I work in the emergency room. I lost a patient.” The moments the word left his lips, he regretted them. Why had he said that? Death was part of his job. He dealt with it in his own way, and his way never involved sharing his feelings with other people. What was he hoping for? Sympathy? Or was he simply offering up an excuse for his behavior, hoping for forgiveness.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She unclipped Madi’s lead and eased her out of her coat. Her gaze was a little less fierce. “That must be difficult to handle. I guess every day is difficult for you.”
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not an excuse.”
“I would think it would be almost impossible to forget it. And I don’t see it as an excuse. It’s an explanation and I’m grateful for it.” She removed Madi’s coat and then sat on the floor, opened the backpack she was carrying and carefully cleaned the dog’s paws.
Ethan felt more and more guilty. “I appreciate the effort you’re taking, but you don’t have to do that. Turns out I’m pretty good at cleaning up.”
“I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for her. The snow is bad for the dog. They use salt and other de-icers and it irritates their paws.”
Ethan, who rarely felt out of his depth, felt totally at a loss. “I never knew that.”
She glanced at him briefly. “It seems there’s a lot you don’t know about dogs, Dr. Black.”
“Ethan. You clean the paws of every dog you walk?”
“If I think it’s necessary, yes.” She dealt with the final paw, taking her time, meticulous and careful. “Just as you probably take the blood pressure of every patient you see, if you think it’s necessary.”
She was telling him that what she did was important too.
He got the message.
“So why do you think Madi—” he emphasized the name, hoping to earn his way back into her favor “—tried to destroy my home?”
“I don’t think she was trying to destroy your home. I think she was expressing boredom. Or fear.” Having dried and checked the last of Madi’s paws, she stood up. “Spaniels are an active breed, and they crave companionship. They need to be well trained. Behavioral problems are not uncommon. What we have to do is evaluate the cause of the behavior. She’s in an unfamiliar environment. I suspect that’s all it is.”
All?
Ethan thought back to the carnage he’d witnessed. He opened his mouth to suggest she might be minimizing the problem and then closed it again. “So what do you suggest?”
“She needs to be shown patience and kindness and then she’ll be fine.”
“That’s it? Are you sure? What if you’re wrong?”
Her eyes narrowed. “When I came to the ER the other night, I didn’t question your professional opinion, Dr. Black. You told me I didn’t need an X-ray. I accepted your judgment.”
When I came to the ER…
That was where he’d seen her before. Of course. The girl with the injured ankle. And she was right. She hadn’t questioned his opinion.
He felt thoroughly put in his place. And he noticed that she was no longer stammering. Nor did she seem afraid or intimidated.
“I remember now. That explains why you look familiar. How is your ankle?”
“It’s improving, but I did as you instructed.” She said it pointedly and he took the point.
“So what, in your professional opinion, am I going to do with this dog to settle her down? How do I care for her?”
“You can’t care for her. It wouldn’t be fair.”
Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you appreciate that. It’s more than my sister did. I have a busy, responsible job and it certainly isn’t fair on me to expect—”
“I was talking about Madi.” Her gaze was steady on his. “It isn’t fair on Madi to be with someone so unsympathetic and ignorant of her needs. And I can’t teach you. You don’t have the patience for it.”
Ethan was taken aback. “I work in the emergency room. I have more patience—and patients—than you can possibly imagine.”
“The difference is that your patients matter to you,” she said. “I don’t believe Madi matters. I think
