Reunion in October (The Calendar Girls Book 2) (3 page)

I nodded. If I were honest with myself, I’d admit I kinda suspected he was dying a week ago. I just chose to bury my fear for the dog the same way I buried a lot of other fears in my life. Like an ostrich, I was really good at pushing my head into the sand. “What should I do?”

“For starters, I think you should talk it over with your husband. Discuss what’s feasible for you.”

Talk with Roy. Because we excelled at communication these days. He didn’t even know about today’s vet appointment. Besides, I knew what he’d say. We couldn’t afford regular medication for a dog who’d already outlasted his life expectancy. Roy wasn’t cruel; he was a realist. Without the health insurance we got from his job at the hospital, we wouldn’t be able to afford the occasional prescription for the kids. Unfortunately, our insurance carrier didn’t consider Freckles a covered dependent, even if we thought of him as a close member of the family. Tears clogged my throat, and I nodded at Dr. Herrera’s questioning look. “I understand. What happens now?”

“I’ll keep Freckles here overnight to run the tests, and I’ll do a CT scan for confirmation. I can call you with the results, if you like, or you can call me tomorrow after ten. And of course, in the meantime, if either you or your husband has any questions or wants clarification on anything, you can call me. I’ll give you my private number.”

Her private number. In all the years I’d come to Snug Harbor Veterinary, Dr. Bautista had never given me his private number. Of course, in all fairness, Freckles had never been this sick before, either.

Dr. Herrera’s fingers clasped mine again, squeezed gently. “I’ve read his entire file, Mrs. Handler. Freckles had a wonderful life with you and your family. Fifteen years is an extraordinary life span. Sometimes, our furry friends know it’s time to go and prefer to leave this world with dignity.”

Gratitude overwhelmed me. This woman, this
stranger
, seemed to understand my fears and knew exactly what to say to comfort me. Which made what I’d heard about her background ridiculous. “Are you really from Brooklyn?” I blurted.

She pulled away from me, face pale. “Of course I am.”

Great. I’d insulted her. How could I apologize and explain without shoving my foot farther into my mouth? Somehow I doubted the excuse that she seemed “too nice” to come from Brooklyn would win me friendship points. Roy always warned me my words often jumped too fast for my brain. I finally settled for, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

Dr. Herrera relaxed and offered a smile, icy at the corners. “It’s okay. I get it.” Lifting Freckles, she passed him off to the vet tech. “Put him in cage three,” she said, then turned to me. “Do you want to say goodbye?”

I flinched. “For good?”

“No,” she said hastily. “Just for tonight.”

I stepped closer to the young lady cradling Freckles and rubbed his head. His soulful gaze connected with me, and I understood what Dr. Herrera had hinted. I sensed my dog’s pain, his exhaustion, his need for me to let him go. “I’m gonna do what’s right, boy,” I murmured, “I promise.”

The tech headed for the doorway and paused to wave a fat brown paw. “Bye-bye, Mommy.” She mimicked a child’s tone.

My breath caught, and my heartbeat hitched.

“That’ll do, Miranda,” the vet admonished.

The young girl blushed a deep red and ducked her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

Great. My callousness was contagious. I waved off her apology. What else could I do?

Apparently, Dr. Herrera wasn’t satisfied. As soon as the tech left the exam room with Freckles, the vet closed the door and turned back to me, arms folded over her chest. “I really am sorry. I doubt she intended to be unkind. She’s young and inexperienced, but not mean. Believe me, I
know
mean. That’s not it.”

Numb from the morning’s events, I didn’t pursue that statement. “I know,” I said instead. “It’s okay. Really.” That familiar ache bloomed in my chest. Heartburn. Too much coffee, not enough healthy stuff. I glanced at the clock above the window. “I have to go to work. You said I could call you after ten tomorrow?”

“Yes, unless you’d prefer I call you.”

“No,” I answered in half a breath. “The kids. I mean…”

Smiling, she held up a hand. “Trust me. I understand.”

I stood for a long minute, shuffling from one foot to the other, awkward as a teenager in front of her first crush. “Umm…thank you,” I murmured and backed toward the exit.

“My pleasure,” she replied and walked me out, a manila folder in her hand. Once we stood in the narrow waiting area, she plopped the folder on the receptionist’s desk.

Becky, Dr. Bautista’s administrative assistant, flipped it open and began punching in numbers on a calculator. “That’ll be one hundred twenty eight dollars,” she said brightly.

I dropped the pet carrier I’d used to bring in Freckles and pulled out my checkbook with trembling hands. I glanced at my balance, and the indigestion in my belly burned hotter. I had exactly $63.72 in my account until I got paid two days from now. “Can I give you fifty today, and I’ll pay the rest later?”

Becky lowered her jewel-rimmed glasses on her nose and shared a questioning glance with Dr. Herrera, who—thank God—nodded.

After writing out the check and handing it to Becky, I looked up at the new vet again. “Thanks again. Nice meeting you.”

“Same here.” She nodded and returned to the exam room.

Meanwhile, Becky took my check, stamped the back of it, and called out, “Bootsie Garcia? Dr. Herrera will see you now.”

An elderly lady rose and tugged on a leash, jerking a Great Dane to its massive paws. “Come on, Bootsie,” she sing-songed at the gigantosaur. “That’s us.”

Bootsie. Good grief. I slipped out of the office into the crisp autumn air, and after a deep breath for courage to face the rest of my day, strode to my minivan for the trip to work. A day full of keys locked in cars, fender benders, and the occasional vandalism call waited for my placid intervention.

Later, I’d have to intervene with Roy and the kids.

****

Francesca

After work, I sped home, my mind focused on the contents of my closet. What exactly should I wear to Promises, Promises? With Josh Candolero. My wardrobe consisted of work scrubs, a few dress slacks, and a silk dress or two—grown-up clothes that didn’t fit my date or my destination with him. I’d never considered myself vain, but I was human. I didn’t want anyone to mistake me for Josh’s mom, for God’s sake. I only had one option and I dreaded it. Swallowing my pride, I called my younger sister, Claudia, aged twenty-five and close enough to my size to make a clothing swap possible.

By eight forty-five, I looked like
nobody’s
mother. Claudia had rushed over with a dozen different alternatives. I’d finally settled on a pair of black jeans, a beaded silk top in shimmering forest green that scalloped around my waist, and my own shoes—a strappy pair of black spiky heels I’d nicknamed my gladiator sandals.

“Perfect,” she confirmed as I stepped into the living room.

“Thanks,” I replied and did a little hip wiggle.

Claudia, curled up on my sofa, tucked one bare foot under the opposite thigh. Her sneakers cluttered my carpet. Clearly, she had no intention of leaving just yet. I glanced at my watch. Josh would be here any minute.

“So you and Josh Candolero, huh?” she said with a smirk. “I gotta admit I didn’t see that one coming.”

I stiffened in my sassy heels. “Why not?”

“Well, for starters, I thought you would have married what’s-his-face by now.”

What’s-his-face? Nice. I’d dated the man for ten years before we became engaged, and she couldn’t even say his name. Annoyance heated to outrage. “Michael. His name is Michael.”

“Well, of course I know that.” She shrugged. “You haven’t said his name since the day he left. Mom told us all to tread carefully, that you were still hung up on him.”

“Mom is the one who’s hung up on him. She keeps holding out hope he’ll come back and things will return to what they were. For God’s sake, she’s got my wedding dress hanging in her closet, waiting for the day he and I finally say, ‘I do.’ He won’t come back, I’m not going to marry him, and I’m not going to fall apart if you mention his name.”                           

“Okay, then. I’m glad we got that settled.”

“Yeah, me, too.” When she stretched her legs across the cushions, I added, “Thanks for your help. You can go home now, Claudia.”

“Nuh-uh.” She fluffed up the throw pillow at her neck and propped her elbows behind her head. “I wanna see him.”

My bones sagged in defeat. “You what?”

“You heard me. I have to make sure he’s good enough for you.”

“We’re going to a club, not a justice of the peace.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m the only member of the family who knows about this momentous occasion so it’s up to me to approve him before I spring the news on Mom.”

“You are not going to ‘spring the news’ on anyone. And it’s not a momentous occasion, either. It’s a few drinks and a couple of dances.”

“Yeah, right. That’s why I had to drive over here at the last minute to help you pick the right outfit.” She sat up and leaned forward. “You haven’t dated anybody since Michael left. Now I look at you, and you’re all aflutter. You’re blushing, for God’s sake!”

Maybe the power of suggestion played a part, but I swear my cheeks caught fire the minute she mentioned my blush. “Knock it off. I’m a big girl. I don’t need you to check out my dates for me.”

Laughing, she pointed a finger at me. “You’re afraid I’ll embarrass you. That I’ll whip out naked baby pictures or tell him about the time you wrote your name on the dining room table in permanent Magic Marker.”

Well, yeah, but more than that. “I’m afraid he’ll think you’re here for moral support because I’m afraid of him.”

Understanding lit up her green eyes. “Ah. Handing over the power position to him.” She nodded slowly. “I could see where that might have you a little freaked.”

“So you’ll leave before he gets here?” I pulled a tailored black denim jacket out of my closet.

“Nope.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I still wanna see him.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, it’s Josh. You’ve seen him before.”

“Yeah, but not with you. I wanna see if you two mesh.”

Before I could utter any retort, the doorbell rang. Toss me fish and call me Flipper. He was early. I jabbed an index finger in my sister’s direction. “If you say one stupid thing…”

She held up her hands in surrender. “I’ll be good, I promise. You won’t even know I’m here.”

I knew better, but didn’t waste time arguing. I strode to the front door, opened it a crack, and slipped outside onto the porch. “Hi.”

“Wow.” Josh stood there, a beaming smile on his beautiful, scar-free face. “You look phenomenal.”

“Thanks.” The night air was crisp with a hint of moisture that signaled a morning rain. I cracked the front door open again and reached for my purse slung on the doorknob behind me. Once I had the strap in hand, I pulled the bag free and closed the door again. “Let’s go.”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Not now. The place is a mess.” Our hasty departure would steam Claudia, but too bad. A borrowed blouse didn’t give her the right to run roughshod over me or Josh.

He gave me another head to toe visual sweep, then looked past me. “Sorry if I’m staring. You just… you look…” Switching his gaze from some spot behind my shoulder to my actual face, he said, “I’m speechless.”

“You?” I teased.

“Yeah, I know.” He wrapped an arm around my waist, and a pleasant shiver ran through me. “It only happens when I’m around an incredibly beautiful woman.”

I refused to allow him to see how much his compliments affected me. “Aren’t you smooth?”

He shook his head and led me down the steps to his car in the driveway, a black late-model Mustang. “Not smooth. Honest. If I didn’t think that about you, I wouldn’t say it.”

“Do you always say what’s on your mind?”

“Usually, yeah. Don’t you?”

“No.” I pondered this for a moment, then clarified. “I think it’s the doctor in me. If I told all my patients what I really thought, it could get ugly. ‘Well, Mrs. S., if you stopped smoking two packs of cigarettes a day, you’d lose that cough you claim requires a stronger antibiotic.’ And, ‘Mr. G., your son’s concussion could have been prevented if he’d been wearing a bike helmet like I advised you last time you brought him here.’ I’d probably face disciplinary action on a regular basis.”

“I can see where that might be a problem.” He opened my car door.

Nice. When was the last time a guy had opened a car door for me? I honestly couldn’t remember. Probably Michael, early in our relationship, long before he slipped an engagement ring on my finger. After that occasion, he began to take a lot of things for granted—mainly me.

“Hey.” Josh’s voice broke my hold on the past. “You with me here?”

“Uh-huh.” I slid into the passenger seat and buckled up.

After closing my door, he walked around to the driver’s side, buckled his seatbelt, and started the car.  As the engine roared to life, he looked at me again, his smile dazzling. “We’re gonna have a blast tonight, Frannie, I promise you.”

And he delivered on that promise. I had an amazing time with him. We laughed and talked and danced. The night flew by on a blur of happiness. The happiness came simply from our being together, not from tequila slams, which probably would have disappointed Helena Gershon, but delighted me. I had no head for alcohol.

For his part, Josh admitted he respected his work too much to get drunk the night before a morning involving sharp power tools. “Especially since I finally got you to come out with me,” he added with a wink. “So there’s no reason to continue taking those quick trips to the emergency room.”

“Does this mean I won’t be seeing you anymore?” I hadn’t wanted to admit how his visits always made me smile. Now, though, I’d miss those quirky episodes.

“That depends on you,” he replied. “If you agree to go out with me again, I won’t have to keep coming up with injuries to see you at the hospital. What do you say, Frannie? Save me from myself. Say you’ll go out with me again. Yes?”