My head drops to the side as I take in Dottie’s smug grin. “Is that true, Dottie?”
She holds her hands out to the side. The look on her face proves she knows she’s been caught in a fib and doesn’t know what to do about it.
I raise a brow and turn back to Joe. “I was on time yesterday, Joe. I was here all day, and I assure you that I haven’t tried Birdie’s apple pie yet . . . even though she did deliver one yesterday.”
He gasps.
Dottie gasps in mock horrification.
“Dottie Mae,” Joe says. “Are you holding out on me?”
“You little shit,” she says with a laugh. She smacks my shoulder as I walk behind her. She shakes her head. “Lord help me. I’m going to head into the back and start sorting deliveries before I fire you both.”
We laugh as she marches through the archway into the supply room. She throws her hands in the air, mumbling to herself about not trusting insolent men.
“Tell your grandfather I said hello,” Joe says.
“Will do,” I tell him.
Joe leaves with a floor mat stuck under an arm.
With him gone and Dottie still in the back, the building is eerily quiet. I slip off my jacket and hang it on the hook by the window. Then I grab a seat on one of the wooden stools behind the desk.
I’ve just reached for the schedule when I notice a small stain on the edge of my shirt. Lifting the hem, I see that it’s gravy from breakfast.
Chuckling, I drop the fabric.
I had a suspicion that Sophie was a good cook from watching her in the kitchen last night. But I had no idea she could whip up a meal like she did this morning. From-scratch sausage gravy, biscuits that seemed like they were handmade this morning, and eggs so fluffy that they were like pillows awaited me when I woke up. I could totally get used to that.
I could totally get used to other things too—things like having her in my life again. I’ve had women in my life in various roles, but none I’ve enjoyed being around quite like her. She was my first best friend. When we toilet-papered Dottie’s house, she was my partner in crime.
Just thinking about it makes me laugh.
Glancing down, I see the schedule is open. An oversize green sticky note is slapped in the center. I don’t know how I missed it yesterday.
Holden,
If I haven’t called by now, I’m reeling in king mackerel the size of my body and the phone service in the Gulf stinks. Hope Dottie is treating you well. If she gets out of hand, bring her a doughnut in the morning. It’s a trick that’s worked for years.
Love,
Pap
Beneath that, there’s a circle with a different set of handwriting inside.
I can read this, you know.—Dottie
I grin and stick the note in my pocket. I’m about to take another drink of my coffee when the door to the clinic bursts open.
A boy, probably around sixteen or so, comes in. His eyes are wide, panic clearly set in, as he carries a ferret to me.
“Where is Dr. Fred?” he asks.
I get off my stool. “He’s not in today. Can I help you?”
“Are you a vet?”
“Yes.” I round the corner of the desk and do a quick visual exam of the ferret. It appears fine as it squirms around in its yellow harness. “I’m Dr. Holden. I’m filling in for Dr. Fred for a while. Is something wrong with your buddy here?”
He strokes the ferret’s head. “This is Fidget. She’s been pooping blood all morning. And, um, I don’t know what to do.”
His voice trembles. His hands shake as he holds Fidget out to me.
I take his pet. Her eyes are clear, her fur soft and shiny. There’s no weird discharge from her nose or ears or around her mouth.
“Tell you what,” I say. “Let’s go into an exam room and have a look at her.”
He forces a swallow. “Okay.”
Dottie comes around the corner. “Hey, Patrick.”
“Hi, Miss Dottie.”
“Is Fidget okay?” she asks.
“I . . .” Patrick looks up at me. “I don’t know.”
“We’re going to have a look at her.” I smile at Patrick. “But she seems pretty playful. Has she been active?”
He follows me into one of the exam rooms and closes the door behind us.
“She’s been acting fine,” he says. “I mean, I lost her for about an hour last night. She got out of my room and escaped. She’s a freaking Houdini.”
“Where did you find her?”
“In the bathroom.”
I roll the ferret over in my hands and check her tummy. And then I look at her backside.
“Is this the blood?” I point to some red residue near her bottom.
“Yes.”
I press my hand on her belly to feel around. She thinks I’m playing and nibbles at my hand.
“What did you do when you found her?” I ask him.
“Well, I figured she wanted a bath. She loves water. So we did that and then”—he thinks back—“I took her back to my room while I went down for dinner. Then I took a snack up and watched a movie and let her run loose in my room until I went to bed.”
“What did you snack on?”
“Cinnamon gummy bears.”
“Sugar-free?” I ask.
He wrinkles his nose. “No. Do they even make them sugar-free?”
“They do. And it’s important because xylitol is an additive to sugar-free foods that’s very toxic to animals, including ferrets.” I take a swab out of a container and capture some of the residue. “Is there any chance she’s gotten into any cleaning products? Any other food items? Anything she shouldn’t have been besides the candy?”
He shakes his head. “No. She’s in her cage unless I’m with her. And Mom doesn’t let me have food in my room. I had to sneak the gummy bears in there.”
“That’s good.” I hand Fidget back to Patrick. “Hold on to her for me and I’ll be right back.”
He nods as I take the swab and leave the room.
The lab my grandfather has set up is across the hall. It takes only a few minutes to confirm my suspicions.
I wash my hands before I return to the exam room. Patrick is talking softly to Fidget when I enter.
“It seems to me that your friend here likes the same snacks as you do,” I say.
“Huh?”
I smile softly. “Go home. Give her another bath. And next time you have gummy bears, keep them out of her reach.” I put my hand on Fidget’s head and give it a gentle shake. “She’s a fan too.”
“Really? Oh, that’s great,” Patrick says, bringing the pet up to his chin and nuzzling it. “She’s gonna be fine, then?”
“She’ll be fine. She might have a bit of a sore tummy, though, because cinnamon is pretty strong. Keep an eye on her, but I think she’s going to be good as new.”
He looks at me like I just hit a game-winning home run. I think he’s trying to decide whether he should hug me or not.
“Thanks, Doctor. Seriously, you just saved my life.”
“I don’t know about that, but you’re welcome.” I open the door. “Now go see Dottie before you leave, okay?”
“Got it.” His grin splits his cheeks as he heads to the counter.