hauled the Springer Spaniel back up the driveway. “I’m sorry?”
“Oh.” Amy tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I was on the phone with the girls and I heard an awful noise that sounded like breaking glass. Of course, when I couldn’t get an answer on the phone, I hurried over to check. You see, my grandmother fell a few months ago and…” She paused.
Had she said too much? Perhaps insinuated that Mrs. Wilson wasn’t properly looking after her granddaughters?
The older woman crossed her arms over her chest and appeared to be considering something. Her smile settled Amy’s concerns. “It takes a special person to find that level of concern for children.” A pause. “And for me. I do appreciate what you’ve done today.”
“I feel a little silly,” Amy said. “And I’m terribly sorry for assuming.”
“Don’t you dare.” The older woman waved away her concerns then winked. “So, did the girls manage to place the ad before the chaos began?” When Amy told her no, Mrs. Wilson’s grin reappeared. “Come on inside and let me get my purse.”
“Mrs. Wilson,” Amy said carefully, “you do understand the girls were—”
“Playing matchmaker for their daddy?” Her smile broadened. “Yes, of course, dear. Who do you think dialed the phone for them? Now won’t you come in and let me offer you some sweet tea and a slice of pie while I write a check for whatever this ad’s going to cost?”
Chapter Three
Amy shifted her purse off her shoulder then opened it to stuff her sunglasses inside. “Did I miss anything while I was gone?”
Bev swiveled around in her chair to give Amy her full attention. “Other than the earth-shattering news that the Vine Beach Washateria will be slashing their prices on the Sit and Spin special? No, nothing.”
“Wow,” Amy said with a half grin. “I’m going to miss working where the big news happens.”
Shrugging, Bev pressed her glasses up a notch. “So, the classifieds emergency. How’d it turn out? Everything okay with the lady who wouldn’t answer her phone?”
Amy groaned. “Turned out there was no emergency, after all. It was a misunderstanding. Though I did meet three adorable little girls and their grandmother. Oh, and their Springer Spaniel named Skipper. Whom I saved from running headlong into Elm Street. The girls had a little help in dialing the phone, and were calling to put an ad in the paper for a wife for their father. Not a girlfriend. Their father isn’t interested in one of those. Their grandmother Susan thinks he’s afraid to move on after his wife’s death. So she paid for the ad, which will run in the next edition. I’m going to email her the receipt.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as she turned toward her cubicle. “All right, then. Back to the classifieds I go to watch the phone not ring.”
“No, you don’t.” Bev followed Amy into her office and leaned against the door frame. In one hand she held a legal pad, and in the other, a pen. “You can’t just leave me like that. I’m a reporter and this sounds like quite a story. Spill it, girl.”
“Spill what?” Amy settled back into her chair.
“The dad. What’s his name?”
Amy stowed her purse in the bottom drawer. “Dr. Eric Wilson.”
“That yummy new vet?” She scribbled another note. “This just keeps getting better.”
“Yes, that’s the guy.”
“Go on. Tell me everything from the beginning.”
So she did, starting with the phone call and ending with the conversation she had over iced tea and peach pie with Susan Wilson, or “Grammy” as the girls called her. She did, however, skip the part where she’d spent a few minutes speaking to the vet in the park during her lunch hour. That, Amy decided, was off the record and definitely not pertinent to the story.
“I did get ad copy while I was there, but I’ll work longer this evening to make up for the time I was gone,” she added.
Bev waved away her statement. “You might not have realized it, but you were working, Amy. Even when you weren’t getting ad copy.”
“I was?”
“Yes, you were.” She scanned her notes then glanced back at Amy. “This is a great story. Definitely a human-interest angle.”
“It is?”
“Plus, we haven’t done anything on the new businesses in town in quite a while. What with Dr. Wilson taking over the practice, that’s newsworthy in itself. Then there’s the side story of his girls and their search for their new mama. All to draw attention to the ad, of course.” She giggled. “Why, this is practically going to write itself. What did you say the name of the Cocker Spaniel is?”
“Skipper. And he’s a Springer Spaniel.” She peered over at Bev’s notepad. “Are you really thinking about writing a story on this?”
“Why not?” Bev said. “Sure beats the article on the Sit and Spin special.”
Amy laughed. “I suppose so.”
“So, what does the ad say?”
Amy fished the paper from her purse. “‘Best daddy in the world needs a wife. Must love dogs and little girls and sailboats and want to be married forever. Ask for Dr. Eric Wilson at Wilson Vet Clinic. Tell him Daddy’s little matchmakers sent you.’” She paused to laugh at the memory of how long it took them to get the wording just right. “That’s it. The girls came up with the ad and their grandmother paid for it. Susan assured me that Eric wouldn’t mind the extra attention, what with the vet clinic being in need of new clients.”
Bev nodded. “So this could be a PR stunt.”
“I thought of that, actually,” Amy said. “But if it is, the girls and their grandmother aren’t showing any signs of it. They really appear to want Eric to find someone. Nothing more. I promise I asked a whole lot of questions before I agreed to take the ad.”
“All right, then. I’ll need a couple of quotes from you.” She waited, pen poised.
“What kind of quotes?” Amy shook her head. “Hold that thought while I put my purse away.”
“I’ll get started on the article.” Bev turned to head back down the hall. “Come into my office when you’re done and we’ll talk about it.”
For all the interest this story might generate, it seemed a bit presumptuous to think this family might want this kind of publicity. In fact, given the tragedy surrounding Dr. Wilson’s status as a widower, they might want just the opposite.
“Hey, Bev, do you really think this is worth writing about?” she called as she opened her desk drawer. “The Wilsons seem like nice people. And I haven’t even spoken to Dr. Wilson.” She paused to reconsider the statement. “At least not about the girls and this ad. Don’t you want his side of the story? To make it more balanced?”
“No
