hello, Stella.” He came around his desk and went to greet her. “How are you today?”
“Oh, I’m marvelous, Jack. Just marvelous.” Her pleasantly plump cheeks held more of a rosy glow than usual. And her blue eyes positively twinkled.
“Good. Good.”
She smiled at him.
Puzzled, Jack waited, but she didn’t explain her presence. To his knowledge, Stella didn’t own any pets.
She simply smiled at him some more.
Rocking back on his heels and burying his hands in the pockets of his lab coat that he’d forgotten to take off, he asked, “So, what can I do for you? Do you need help moving something…?”
“Oh, no. Nothing, really. I just thought I’d stop by and say hello. I noticed Dr. Wood’s truck isn’t out front. Is she on a call?” She reached up and patted at very curly hair through its protective barrier in a very feminine way.
A sizzling arc of panic went to ground right through the bottoms of his feet. No. Not Stella. She had to be in her mid- to late-fifties.
But she was also single.
Then the reminder of why she was still single cooled him in a rush of relief. She had loved and lost also, though she and her young man hadn’t had the chance to marry, their engagement ending tragically with his death. Stella, along with ol’ Henry Faulkner who had lost his wife ten years ago, understood why Jack didn’t feel the necessity to move on.
Still, her obvious delight made him nervous. “Yes. Melinda is out at Wyla’s, I believe. Vaccination time. Can I get you some coffee, tea…” He was pretty sure Melinda had heated some water before she left the first time this morning and had a decent selection of instant coffee and tea bags to warm them up after being out treating livestock in the freezing weather.
“You are a dear, but no, thank you.” She found an escaped blond curl and tucked it back undercover. “Oh, you know, Irene and I thought we’d do some baking. What sort of cake do you like best, Jack?”
“Cake?”
She smiled even more sweetly and nodded encouragingly.
He shrugged. “Chocolate, I guess.”
“Chocolate. Wonderful. With raspberry filling?”
He shrugged again, wondering what his opinion had to do with anything. “That’s always good.”
“Wonderful, wonderful.” Her pleasure was amazing. “Well, I better let you get back to work. Have a wonderful day, Jack.” She wiggled her fingers at him and was back out the door before he had a chance to respond.
Wonderfully bemused, he stared at the door for a moment, then went back to his desk. That was odd. Especially considering the fact it was Gwen who usually did the baking. She made the most incredible pastries. He made a mental note to stick his nose in at the bookstore across the street, Ex-Libris, where Amanda Bradley let Gwen sell her baked goodies, and snag a muffin or two before he headed home. Perhaps Stella and Irene Caldwell, who also lived at Gwen’s boardinghouse, were helping out in the kitchen. That was very likely, since Irene treated Gwen more like a granddaughter than a landlord. He shrugged and went back to work.
Not fifteen minutes passed before Irene blew into the clinic’s waiting room, a cheery yellow scarf tied over her gray hair and a puffy, quilted black coat bundled around her. In her early sixties, Irene had really found a place to belong when she moved into the boardinghouse six years ago. Her husband had passed away four years before that, and without any children of her own, she’d been too alone.
She spied Jack and headed for him before he had time to get up. “Jack, dear! I’m so glad you’re in. I have a quick question for you, if I may?”
He set his pen down. Clearly, this was going to be one of those days. “Of course, Irene. What can I do for you?”
“Not a thing. It’s only that Stella and I are making a tape of everyone’s favorite slow songs for, ah, for the Founder’s Day celebration dance, and we were wondering what your favorite is? To dance to? Ah, slow?”
“I thought you and Stella were baking today.”
“Are we?”
He raised his brows. Doddering was one thing these older ladies were not.
“Oh, yes.” She put a hand to her cheek and laughed. “Of course we are. But we’re also making a tape. Of music. To dance slow to.”
Jack immediately thought of the song he and Caroline had danced to for the first dance at their wedding. On the sly she’d arranged for the band to start out with a traditional love song, then switch to playing a punk rock song about a white wedding. She’d laughed so hard at the look on his face. If only they could have stayed in that moment. Happy. Safe.
His thoughts must have shown in his expression, because the smile lighting Irene’s softly lined face faltered. Not wanting to distress her, he threw out the first song that came to mind.
She smiled in obvious relief. “Ooh, that’s a good one, Jack. Thank you, dear.” She turned on her sensible heel and hurried out.
The door had barely shut behind her before it opened again. Only this time it wasn’t to what he considered a friendly face. Marina Andrews, the blond TV news reporter from a station in Great Falls, along with her cameraman, who’d made Jester their home away from home since the lottery win, came into the waiting room. He could understand their attention right after the win. What had happened had been newsworthy. To a point. And certainly for a limited amount of time. In Jack’s mind, that time was up. Their continued attempts to dig up a story where there wasn’t one anymore was wearing on him.
And that big-bucks bachelor routine definitely hadn’t earned them any points.
“Dr. Hartman, might we—”
The phone rang.
Saved by the bell. Jack held up a stilling hand and picked up the receiver with the other. “Jester Veterinary Clinic. Dr. Hartman speaking.” He put on the airs for the sake of his audience.
“Jack, it’s Ruby Cade.”
“Hey, Ru—”
“I need you, Jack. Right now.”
For the first time in nearly two months those words coming from a woman didn’t illicit dread from him. Not only was Ruby married, she was a fellow lottery winner. Though Jack couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Ruby’s husband Sam around town. Since Sam was a military man of some sort, his absence shouldn’t be cause for note. But Ruby owned The Mercantile just down Main Street from the clinic with Honor Lassiter and lived in the apartment above the store.
And she didn’t have a pet.
He cleared his throat. “Ah, what can I do for—”
She cut him off. “It’s that damn goat, Jack. The one that’s been hanging around town.” Her upset was clear in the quaver of her voice. “It must have wandered into my back storeroom when we were unloading a delivery earlier. Now it’s got its head stuck inside a damn bucket and is
