Pick and Chews

by Linda O. Johnston

  Fortunately, all went well at both shops and at my clinic shift that Monday. Looking back, I was probably somewhat complacent. My assistants on duty, including Vicky in the morning and Janelle in the afternoon when I headed to the clinic, all did a great job baking and waiting on customers—and discussing how well the adoption had gone that weekend.

  At the clinic, with Biscuit in doggy daycare and lots of canine and feline patients in for regular checkups and no major illnesses or injuries—and a date with Reed to look forward to that evening—well, I dared to enjoy myself and believe all was well in my life and in the lives of my brother and the friends and employees I cared most about.

  Ha. I should have known better.

  Reed picked me up at seven that night, once I’d closed up the shops and gone home. No dogs tonight. We sometimes brought them along if we were planning on spending our time in the bar at the Knobcone Heights Resort, but not in its restaurant, unless we wanted to eat on the outside patio. The resort was another of our favorite places, and I couldn’t hazard a guess at how often we’d eaten there.

  We arrived and parked in the lot in front of the various sprawling, elegant buildings that composed the resort. Each building was a couple of stories high, with a sloping slate roof over thick white walls and dark wood-framed windows. Reed and I walked together toward the registration building, which contained the bar and restaurant. My bro was scheduled to be on duty at the reception desk that night, so when we arrived I led Reed past it, waving hello to Neal before we went to eat. Though he was talking with a couple of guests, Neal saw me and gave a slight wave back.

  Reed and I entered the posh restaurant beneath the arched doorway. We were of course known by the restaurant’s maitre d’, Harvey, so though the place was crowded and few tables were available, we were shown to a nice one in a relatively quiet corner. As anticipated, our table was covered with a pristine white cloth.

  Our server that night was Stu, a relative newcomer who nevertheless had been there long enough to know the restaurant’s procedures. He appeared immediately to place our matching napkins and flatware in front of us. He was young, with short hair and a welcoming smile. Like the other servers, he wore a white shirt with a name tag on the pocket.

  “Hi, Carrie. Hi, Reed.” Despite the formality of this place, Stu knew us and greeted us as if we were friends. “Would you like the usual to drink?”

  My “usual” drink changed periodically but was currently a glass of Merlot from a Napa Valley vineyard, and it was indeed what I ordered that night. Reed enjoyed imported beers, currently a Canadian one.

  “Yes, please,” I said, and Reed did the same.

  Once Stu was gone, Reed looked at me and smiled. “I figured I’d wait till we were here before telling you about the news I just received.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Arvie called and said he’s made an offer to Jon to join our clinic.”

  I leaned over the table toward him, trying to read whatever might lie behind his expression. He seemed happy, but I asked anyway. “And that’s okay with you?”

  “Definitely. Oliver would have been a good fit too, but the more I considered both of them, the more I hoped that Arvie would decide on—”

  He broke off suddenly, and the happiness on his face segued immediately to something less readable. If I had to guess, it was a combination of shock and anger. Reed was staring beyond my shoulder, so I turned to see what had affected him that way.

  Raela had walked through the arched doorway into the restaurant and now stood beyond the crowded tables, staring into the room.

  Not only that, but Dr. Oliver Browning was with her.

  Harvey, the maitre d’, joined them nearly immediately, blocking them from our view. I looked back at Reed. “Why is Oliver here with her?” I asked, realizing that he was most likely wondering the same thing. But I hoped he would tell me if he actually knew the answer.

  “Damned if I know,” Reed growled almost under his breath. He started to stand, as if he planned to stalk over and find out.

  “Let’s just ignore them,” I said in a soft but pleading voice. Whatever their reason was, I suspected that any discussion that took place in the restaurant could get ugly. Any discussion anywhere, probably, but especially here, in public, where we were known, and where Neal worked—well, it would be a really bad idea.

  “Yeah. Sure.” Reed’s tone suggested he was being totally sarcastic, but he did settle back down, and I tried to smile at him again. He stared straight into my face as if wanting to look anywhere but at those two, though I knew otherwise.

  Then his shoulders stiffened, his eyes narrowed, and I turned once more to see what he saw.

  And wasn’t surprised that Raela was maneuvering among the full tables toward us, Oliver following.

  In moments, she’d reached us. She wore a sexily snug black dress and stiletto heels. The smile on her otherwise pretty face looked so nasty I could hardly bear to look at her. “Well, fancy meeting you here,” she said. Then, moving to look straight toward Reed, she said, “I know about the dinner you vets had last night. You should have invited me—and yes, I know that most of you work at your damned clinic, but not all of you.”

  She glanced back toward where Oliver stood. Could he hear her? Most likely, since even with the hum of conversations around us, her voice seemed to project as if she were on stage and wanted the world to hear.

  “Well, it’s done with, even though I’m not happy I wasn’t asked to join you. I do have some news you’ll be interested in, and I could have told you about it then. I’m not going to tell you what it is anymore. But think about it—and you can be sure I’ll tell you soon. When it suits me.” She emphasized the last word as if everyone in the room, everyone in the world, should care about what did and didn’t suit her. “But you can be sure it’s already a done deal.”

  She pivoted, then, moved around Oliver, and gestured for him to follow her, which he did. They sat down at a table across the room, where Harvey stood waiting for them.

  Seven

  I looked up at Reed from beneath my eyelashes. My mind immediately pondered what I should say to him next. Laugh at the situation and say what a pompous and nasty fool Raela was? Speculate on what she hadn’t told him or me—her “news”?

  I unfortunately had a good idea of what her news might be. And as soon as Reed had taken a huge drink of his beer, I realized he, unsurprisingly, did too.

  “Is that bitch actually opening a veterinary clinic here in Knobcone Heights?” he demanded, as if I knew the answer. Which, unfortunately, I thought I did.

  “She’s only been here for a few days,” I replied. It had been nearly a week, and she’d made that threat when I first met her. A done deal. Could she have found and bought or rented a location so soon? Maybe. But gotten it set up as a new animal hospital?

  Unlikely. But maybe she could do something makeshift while obtaining needed approvals and getting the place ready.

  Still, how would she get patients? Would any pet parents trust her—or such an impulsive situation?

  And why was Oliver with her? He might already know he hadn’t been chosen for the job at our clinic. Did that mean he’d be receptive to working with a horrible person like Raela?

  Reed had said she wasn’t considered a particularly skilled vet at their San Diego facility. Was that everyone’s opinion—including Oliver’s? Or might he be angry enough to jump in to work with her, maybe even mentor her as a vet, to make up for any disappointment he felt for not getting the job offer at our clinic?

  And while it was more Reed’s concern than mine, if all three of those vets wound up staying in town, what was going to happen to the clinic they’d worked at in San Diego?

  Okay, this guesswork was getting me nowhere, especially since I kept it to myself.

  Stu returned then to take our orders. I wasn’t hungry anymore and suspected Reed wasn’t either. I’d planned on an actual dinner, one featuring a chicken casserole, but that now s
ounded like too much. I retreated to my sometimes usual, a Cobb salad. Reed ordered a tuna wrap—more like a lunch than a substantial dinner.

  I half wished we’d simply asked for the check and left, though I was concerned Reed might use that as an excuse to just drive me home and end our evening together on this sour note.

  It wasn’t likely to get sweeter anyway, but I realized our leaving that quickly might give Raela additional pleasure at the situation she’d caused.

  And so we stayed and ate and talked about some of the patients we’d seen that day at the clinic and others who would be in to receive somewhat unusual treatments that week. I also threw in some ideas I had for additional dog treat recipes to create and sample. It was all neutral stuff that was of interest to both of us, and it kept us from discussing what was really on our minds.

  The table where Raela and Oliver were seated was near the wall of the restaurant, toward my right and Reed’s left. We both could see them, but we managed to mostly keep looking at each other, pretending to ignore those ugly veterinary elephants in the posh restaurant.

  I noticed, though, from the corner of my eye, that Raela sometimes turned her head to stare in our direction, as if wanting to remind us that she was indeed here. But if Reed noticed he didn’t mention it, and neither did I.

  Our food arrived, and I don’t recall ever eating as quickly as I did then. Reed too finished his meal in what might be record time. We soon waved Stu over for our check. Reed and I had an agreement that I’d pay for every third or fourth meal when we got together. He still made more money than I did, even with my stores, but though we were dating I didn’t want to seem like an old-fashioned princess who expected to always be cosseted and treated. When we visited each other’s homes, the one who was hosting that night took care of dinner, too, and we were about equal there.

  Tonight was my turn, yet when Reed took the check, I understood and let him pay. Not that it was likely Raela could see what was going on, but it might embarrass Reed, under these circumstances, to be the one who apparently was being pampered.

  I’d hoped we would go to Reed’s for a nightcap—and more—before he dropped me off, but neither of us was in that kind of mood. I was glad, though, that Neal was home. He accompanied Biscuit and me out for our last walk of the evening after Reed left. Having someone close to me like my bro was always a good thing, and I really wanted to talk that night.

  “Maybe she had something else in mind,” Neal said as we stood in the chilly night air, beneath a streetlight just down the block from our house, while Biscuit did her business. “Maybe she’s just teasing and is about to head home to San Diego—and she and Oliver are just flirting and showing that off to Reed in case it’ll make him jealous.”

  I looked up at Neal, his face shaded as he smiled down at me encouragingly.

  “Yes, maybe to all of that, but for her to act so pleased and smug—well, I’ll be interested to hear what she tells Reed, and when she tells him.”

  We returned to the house. It was only eight thirty, not extremely late. I considered calling Reed but doubted either of us really wanted to talk.

  I also wondered if he would call Arvie that night to let him know that we had seen Raela and, speculation or not, there was a possibility she was about to provide the chaos and competition to our clinic that she had threatened.

  Enough. I decided to be active and learn what I could. I went into my bedroom, sat down on the coverlet on my bed while Biscuit curled up on her fluffy mat on the floor beside me, and called Arvie.

  “Well, hi, Carrie,” he said almost immediately. “Good to hear from you.” Then he asked, “Is everything okay?” Though we had each other’s phone numbers, we nearly never communicated this way. I mostly found out at the clinic when they wanted me to come in, and had any discussions about scheduling in person. Arvie and I got together now and then for meetings and meals, but these too were nearly always planned during conversations when we were face-to-face.

  So he must not have heard from Reed, I figured. “Not sure,” I replied, and described our fortunately brief but unfortunately disconcerting meetup with Raela earlier. I also told him my speculation about what she’d been hinting at.

  Arvie was silent for a few seconds. I wondered what my boss was thinking but didn’t ask.

  If things went wrong at the clinic, I still had my businesses, and they seemed to be doing well. I could most likely support myself fully that way now. But I really liked my part-time job—and the people I worked with there, most particularly Reed and Arvie. What would they do if competition from Raela hurt their business?

  Even more important, in many ways, was the question of how our pet patients would fare if they were taken someplace else for treatment—like to a clinic run by Raela, who had apparently been perceived by her coworkers as somewhat incompetent, even if they didn’t kick her out.

  “Well, it’ll be interesting to learn what’s really going on,” Arvie finally said.

  That was an understatement, but I didn’t say so. Instead I said, “I’m scheduled to come in tomorrow afternoon for a shift. Maybe we can talk then.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Maybe by then we’ll have a better idea of what’s going on.”

  I hoped so … didn’t I?

  But as it turned out, there was no further news from our buddy Raela when I got to the clinic about one o’clock the next afternoon and left my dear Biscuit in doggy daycare.

  I inquired of Faye when I got there about how things were at the animal hospital and in her facility, without being more explicit as to why I was asking. Faye looked puzzled as she replied, “Fine, Carrie. But why do you ask?”

  “Oh, I’m always concerned.” I bent to give Biscuit a hug before encouraging her to run off to the area where other dogs were already playing with one another, Al and Charlie on their knees and ensuring all was well.

  I hurried into the clinic, seeing a another vet tech leading a canine patient and her owner into an exam room down the hall. I quickly changed into my blue scrubs and headed to the vet tech room to sign in and find out if anything unusual was on the agenda for that day.

  Yolanda was in there, at the computer. Although she was often moody, she was a really good vet tech, and because of that we generally got along fine. She didn’t seem any grumpier today than usual, so I figured all was well … or at least I hoped so.

  “Anything exciting going on?” I asked.

  “Nope. But since you’re here, why don’t you just head out to the reception area and bring Falcon back for his shots.”

  Falcon was anything but a predatory bird. He was a pit bull mix, a frequent patient whose owner was highly protective and always concerned that something was wrong if the dog even coughed or shook his head or whatever. At least his being here just to get shots shouldn’t be anything too exciting. I’d wait and see, though, in case the owner had anything else to disclose about the pup.

  I looked at a different computer to see who the day’s patients so far had been and learn what appointments were scheduled for that afternoon. I was glad to note that the vet likely to handle Falcon’s exam was Reed. I closed the computer screen and said to Yolanda, “I’m off to get Falcon. See you later.” I left the room.

  I took my time, since both Arvie and Reed were most likely already in exam rooms with patients, at least according to the posted info. I hoped to talk to each of them without other people around, although if a dog or cat happened to be present and eavesdropping, that would be fine.

  I couldn’t help taking a deep inhale of breath as I strode down the hall toward the reception area. The air smelled a bit more heavily than usual of disinfectant, though that scent was nearly always there. The clinic and its facilities were cleaned often, like my shops and their kitchen. I liked that smell here. I always had, from the time I’d become a vet tech.

  But of course I liked the aroma of my baked goods a whole lot better, even the meaty and other unique scents of my healthy dog biscuits.

  I won
dered, not for the first time, if a kitchen should have been set up at the clinic—for healthy munchies and other homemade food for pets with special needs. But when I suggested it to Arvie before I wound up starting my Barkery, he hadn’t wanted to either use the space or add another venue within the clinic that would need to be kept completely clean.

  I quickly reached the door into the reception area and opened it. I first saw that Kayle was behind the front desk again, and I smiled and nodded at him.

  Funny. The look on his young face appeared strained and uneasy, and he held a phone in his hand. I was about to ask if anything was the matter when I turned slightly and realized what had triggered that expression.

  Raela was there, dressed in white veterinary scrubs, a large tote bag over her shoulder and her blonde hair pulled back. “So this is how it is, folks,” she said to the half dozen people sitting on the waiting room chairs, dogs or cat crates at their feet. “I can understand why you’re here, since this was the only place in town—was being the operative word.” She held a stack of what looked like flyers in her hands, handing one to each of the pet parents. “But I’ve just opened the Heights Veterinary Care Clinic down the street. You can check the website to learn about my excellent credentials and read a lot of good reviews. You may be stuck here today, but this can be your last time.”

  Only then did she stop and aim her gaze at me. She’d clearly known I’d arrived but had chosen to present her spiel so I could hear it, too.

  “Well, hello there, Carrie.” Her voice was as smooth as if she’d coated it with whipped cream. “Fancy meeting you here. I suspect you and the others won’t be here much longer, though.”

  I still stood in the doorway, my hand on the knob, and I clenched it to avoid running into the room and punching the brazen, horrible woman in her grinning mouth.

  But suddenly I felt hands at my shoulders, thrusting me off to the side as the door opened even wider. I turned quickly—and saw Reed enter the room at my side.