Buch lesen: «White Picket Fences»

“I’ve got a date tonight.”

“You do?” Becca couldn’t quite keep the excitement out of her voice, but Randi gave her full marks for effort. “Who with?”

“Zack Foster. He’s the new partner at the veterinary clinic.”

“Oh?”

Randi almost smiled at the eagerness her sister-in-law was trying so hard to conceal. Except that she felt so miserable, smiling wasn’t currently an option. “I can’t go,” she muttered.

“Why not?” There was curiosity and concern in Becca’s voice.

“I don’t know,” Randi admitted. “I’ve only met the man once, and he…he scares me.”

“Zack? I’ve only seen him a couple of times and he’s big, I’ll grant you. But a teddy bear.”

“It’s not that Zack scares me, exactly,” she said, staring down at the logo on her shoe. “When I was sitting in his office yesterday, it was almost like I’d been hypnotized. I was practically ready to agree to anything he said. It was the oddest sensation….”

Dear Reader,

I’m really glad you’ve decided to join me here in Shelter Valley. I’ve been visiting this town on and off for a while now, and I find it harder and harder to leave each time I have to return to my “other” world. There’s so much going on here—so many great people, so many stories to tell….

Like the story of Randi Parsons and Zack Foster. Now, here are two interesting people. They’re both attractive, successful, honest and hardworking—and they’re both living at home at a time when they should be starting families. Because underneath all the smiles they have scars no one else can see. They touched me, I think, because they’re like a lot of us who put on our smiles to face the world when deep inside there’s pain most people never know about. Pain that sometimes attacks us in the middle of our busy days with no warning at all. Pain brought on by seemingly inconsequential things—a song on the radio, a phrase someone uses, a person who looks like someone we once knew.

I admire Randi in particular because she won’t compromise who she is, even when that person won’t fit the stereotypes people expect her to fit. She’d rather be alone—forcing herself to be happy—than lose the person who lives inside her. She makes no apologies for her differences, while accepting extreme differences in those around her. She’s a fighter. And a dreamer. A difficult combination. But a great one, too.

And Zack…well, I’m pretty certain he’ll make your heart beat faster if nothing else. He’s my idea of a hero. He’s sexy, athletic, logical, capable and he has a huge heart. Many parts of my own true-life hero slipped in here when I wasn’t looking.

So…enjoy. And don’t worry. I’ve so enjoyed my time in Shelter Valley that I’m coming back soon! I hope you will, too.

Tara Taylor Quinn

I love to hear from readers. You can reach me at: P.O. Box 15065, Scottsdale, Arizona 85267-5065 or online at http://www.inficad.com/~ttquinn

White Picket Fences
Tara Taylor Quinn

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thanks to the faculty and staff in the men’s and women’s athletic departments at Scottsdale Community College, Scottsdale, Arizona. Any accurate portrayals of life in the academic sports world must be attributed to them.

Any mistakes are my own.

Dedication:

For my mother, Penny Gumser,

who gave me life.

And for my editor, Paula Eykelhof,

who brings my dreams to life.

I couldn’t have done this without either one of you.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

SOMETHING WAS MISSING.

Trailing through her house, leaving lights on in her wake, Miranda Parsons frowned. Why did she have this odd empty feeling?

She’d painted her living room last summer; she’d bought a luscious daybed ensemble with matching everything for her spare bedroom over Thanksgiving. And now, during Christmas break, she’d given the kitchen a coat of yellow paint, papered the wall in the breakfast alcove with wildflowers and hung curtains.

Her little house was finally done as she’d envisioned when she’d bought it eighteen months before. She should be feeling satisfied. Complete.

Making her way down the hall, she scrutinized the master bedroom and en suite bathroom carefully for anything amiss. The maroon comforter and pillow shams, the plush towels in the bathroom, the hand-woven tapestry rug on the bedroom floor were all as they should be. As she wanted them.

She loved this house.

So what was missing?

It was Tuesday morning, the second of January. She had another week off before she had to report back to school, once again taking up her position as women’s athletic director at the university. Though she’d been hoping to get to Phoenix for several rounds of golf with some friends, it was equally important to make sure her living space was just right. She could do more here if she needed to.

If only the place would speak up, tell her what to do. There certainly wasn’t anyone else here to give her any suggestions.

Randi wandered outside. Shelter Valley’s blue skies and sunshine she took for granted, though she loved them, too. Even a temperature of 65 degrees in January was a given. The tiny patch of grass in her front yard was as green and verdant as it should be. The stucco finish on the house looked great.

Sitting on the boulder in her front yard—a costly bit of landscaping she was very happy with—Randi folded her arms and surveyed her property. Yep. She was still certain the place suited her.

So why in hell didn’t she feel complete?

She could get a pet. Except that she thought they were mostly nuisances.

Or a roommate. Yuck.

Maybe she needed Surround Sound. She was no electrician, but surely one of her brothers could be prevailed upon for his expertise. There had to be some benefit in putting up with the four of them.

Will was out—he was too busy being important at the university. And spending every spare minute of his life with his adorable baby girl.

Randi was spending a lot of spare minutes with the little miracle herself.

So maybe Paul could help her. He’d rewired his attic a few years ago. Surround Sound might be just the ticket.

Except she didn’t really want it. She was perfectly happy with her stereo system. She had digital cable television, too.

Her neighbor passed by, walking her dog. The little thing peed on the edge of Randi’s fertilized grass.

Maybe she needed a fence.

Yeah.

Looking around the perimeter of her front yard, noticing how it ran right off to the sidewalk without so much as a by-your-leave, she nodded. That was it. When she was growing up, she’d always had this image of a home with a picket fence. Probably got it from watching too many reruns of The Donna Reed Show or Leave It to Beaver.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Randi slid off her boulder and went back inside. Thank goodness that was settled. She probably didn’t have time this break to install a fence, which was fine with her; she could go to Phoenix and play as good a round of golf as she was still capable of playing.

But come spring break, she’d get this done.

All her life needed was a white picket fence.

HE’D MADE IT through New Year’s. Zack Foster heated up a frozen dinner Tuesday night, feeling rather proud of himself. He’d taken a dose of his own medicine—let the animals he cared for ease him into the barren new year. Pet therapy.

He’d spent New Year’s Eve with the boarders at the veterinary clinic, giving his employees the night off to be with family and friends. He’d walked the dogs, scratched the cats’ ears, thrown balls and given treats, filled bowls and water bottles, and graciously accepted his due of kisses and purrs.

Whistling as he pulled the foil off his steaming lasagna, he reflected on the previous day, pleased to know, firsthand, that the program he’d dedicated a good portion of his career to really worked. Animals, simply through their unconditional—and sometimes unsolicited—affection, could ease the burdens of human beings.

New Year’s Day, he’d been on duty, taking the emergency cases at the clinic—a dog hit by a car, a bird with a broken wing, a cat with a bleeding paw—so that his partner, Cassie Tate, could go to Phoenix with her parents and two youngest sisters to spend the day with her uncle and his family.

Yes, he’d done well. Was damn proud of himself. As a matter of fact, now that he’d made it through the last of the holidays, he deserved a beer.

A bit of tomato sauce dripped from the foil he’d removed from his dinner and plopped on the ceramic tile of his kitchen floor. Ignoring it, Zack deposited the foil in the trash and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.

By the time he’d opened the bottle, the floor was clean. Thanks to Sammie, his canine garbage disposal.

“Good girl, Sam,” Zack praised the Sheltie. Sam wagged her tail, turned a circle and barked. Hearing her, Bear, his fifteen-year-old poodle-Pomeranian mix, trudged out to the kitchen to see what he’d missed. His chocolate-colored body seemed to move more slowly every day.

“Here you go, boy,” he said, dropping a bite of lasagna on the floor beneath Bear’s nose. And then, while the dog lapped heartily, he asked, “How’s that new arthritis medicine working?”

Bear licked his chops and, staring up at Zack, lay down right where he was.

“You’re all right, Bear, my man,” Zack said, testing the lasagna himself. “You’ve got a healthy heart, and we’ll find something that makes those bones of yours more willing to serve you.”

He took a swig of beer. And another. He’d had Bear since he was in high school. Didn’t look forward to the day when his pal would no longer be lying at his feet, silent but loyal company.

Lasagna long gone, kitchen cleaned and three beer bottles emptied, Zack took his fourth bottle out back to his patio and the seven-foot deep pool in his backyard. Sammie trotted at his heels, her mouth open in the smile she wore much of the time. Bear followed more slowly.

Flipping the switch beside the pump, Zack turned on the lights by the pool. The pool was heated; he could get in if he wanted to. But he didn’t feel much like swimming. After a long couple of weeks at the clinic, he really just wanted to sit.

Zack lounged in one of the two chaise longues that had been just about his only furniture for the first six months he’d owned this house. He didn’t move, except to retrieve another beer—and then the entire twelve-pack to save himself another trip in. Stars were out; he could look for the big dipper.

“It’s not you, Zack, it’s me….”

Dawn’s pretty face swam before his eyes, her intelligent compassionate voice ringing in his ears.

Zack shook his head, blinked until the lighted water in front of him came back into focus.

He didn’t need to relive it all again. He’d been over everything so many times it was mush. There was no point in revisiting any of this—ever. He’d looked at the breakup of his marriage from angles that mathematicians didn’t even know existed.

And the facts never changed.

It was why he’d come to Shelter Valley. To forget Dawn. To get away from the constant memories.

And because he’d been intrigued by Cassie’s offer of a partnership. Her timing had been impeccable.

He took another swig of beer. All he wanted was to relax. Maybe fall asleep out here, where the night air would keep him cool, where there were no walls to close him in.

The house he and Dawn had owned in Phoenix was spacious, full of windows. Sammie and Bear had had a huge backyard filled with luscious grass and their own doggie door to let themselves in and out. Dawn had insisted on that for the summer months, when it was too hot to leave them outside all day while they were both at work. She’d sure loved the dogs.

Maybe they should’ve had children. She’d said she wasn’t ready. And Lord knew Zack had his plate full, as well, working in one of the largest veterinary clinics in the city. But maybe if she’d had children at home…

Zack shook his head again, then took another swig of beer.

And he remembered…

“ZACK, WE NEED TO TALK.”

He came more fully into the bedroom, watching as Dawn zipped up the back of her chic navy-blue dress. He thought of offering to help, but knew that if he did, neither one of them would get to work on time.

“What’s up?” he asked her. She’d been out late the night before, another dinner meeting. Dawn was an advertising executive and often worked late in the evenings.

“I just need to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until tonight?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb even though he really needed to leave if he was going to make his eight-o’clock appointment to spay Mrs. Andrews’s new beagle. But he was enjoying the view, watching as Dawn put on her earrings, clasped her watch around her wrist. Applied lip liner and then lipstick. She was one of the most feminine women he’d ever met, and after living almost thirty years with his own large athletic body, he was fascinated by the contrast between the two of them.

He’d had lovers before Dawn, feminine women who complemented his masculinity, but none of them had captivated him as much as she had.

He tried to meet her eyes in the mirror over her dresser, but she was obviously preoccupied.

She turned to face him and Zack straightened as she finally met his eyes. “No, it can’t wait,” she said. Her tone was serious. “I promised myself I’d do this now, and if I don’t, I’m not sure when I will.”

This didn’t sound like a dinner engagement she’d forgotten to mention. Something was wrong. His muscles tensed as he waited.

He’d never known Dawn to have problems talking to him before.

“I want a divorce.”

He fell back a step as the words hit him, but they didn’t really register.

“What?”

“I want a divorce. I’m going to file today.”

“What?” Same word, a little louder. Still no comprehension.

“I know this is hard, coming out of the blue, but you have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about it, and now that I know for sure, I just have to do it and get it done.” She was talking so fast he could hardly keep up with her.

Mrs. Andrews’s beagle was going to have another day, another chance.

Zack took a deep breath. “What’s wrong?” he asked. If only he could get to the root of this problem he hadn’t even known he had. He was sure they could fix it, whatever it was. He and Dawn were great together. Their relationship worked smoothly, and they solved problems by consensus. They compromised easily, hardly ever disagreeing.

They were a good pair. A team.

Just look at the beautiful house they owned and ran together. Their well-organized lives. The dogs they both adored.

Her eyes lifted, met his again. He glimpsed the pain in them, the regret, and started to feel sick.

“I can change.” He said the first thing that came to mind, idiotic though it was. Not that he wasn’t willing to do whatever he could to save his marriage, but he had no idea what was even bothering her.

Maybe she hated Phoenix, wanted to move. Maybe she’d had a job offer somewhere far away—like Massachusetts. He’d hate to give up his practice, his patients, but he would. He’d hate the cold weather, too. The snow. But he’d adjust.

She’d do the same for him if the situation were reversed.

They were a team. Comfortable. Part of the same whole.

“It’s not you, Zack,” she said, her voice breaking as she turned away, fumbled with the diamond tennis bracelet he’d bought her for their fifth anniversary.

“What is it?” he asked again, standing upright, his muscular frame leaving barely any space in the doorway. He had some crazy notion of blocking her escape should she try to leave before she came to her senses, before he helped her work this out. But he knew that if she pushed past him, he’d let her go.

He had to. They were equals. A team.

His pager went off. Zack ignored it. His staff would be worried; he never missed an appointment. But for once, they’d have to wait. They’d understand.

Dawn stopped fiddling with her jewelry and Zack approached her slowly, taking her slim shoulders in his hands. “Talk to me, honey,” he said. “I know we haven’t spent much time together in the past year or two…” Make that five or six. “We’ve both been so busy getting established, but we’re there now. We can finally afford to slow down a little bit, take those trips we always talked about.”

She shook her head, cutting him off. When Zack looked up, he saw tears in her eyes.

“There’s someone else,” she whispered.

Jerking his hands away from her, he backed up a step. “You’ve slept with another man?”

The thought had never even occurred to him. She was his wife.

“No.” She shook her head.

Thank God.

“Where would I ever find a man better-looking than you?” she asked, giving him an intimate little smile through her tears.

“Indeed,” he agreed, because she seemed to expect it. He’d certainly never had troubles attracting women—the best-looking women. But he wasn’t foolish enough to think that looks were all that mattered in a relationship. Far from it.

“I knew this was going to be hard,” she whispered, still standing there by her dresser, watching him. “But I had no idea it was going to be this hard.”

“Dawn, for God’s sake, tell me what’s wrong.” He couldn’t ever remember being so tense. Wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand there calmly discussing things that made no sense.

“I’m in love with someone else.”

But she’d just told him there was no one else. He was the best-looking man she’d ever seen.

“Who?”

She turned away, and something inside Zack cracked wide open.

“Barbara Sharp.”

He frowned, his head spinning. He had to be missing large parts of this conversation.

“The golfer?” he asked. Zack didn’t follow the game, but the Sharp woman was a local and had been in the news a lot lately.

Dawn nodded.

“But…”

Zack swallowed. Suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but in this house—their house.

As the air grew almost too thick to breathe, Zack refused to utter the words screaming inside him. They were so incomprehensible he couldn’t even say them.

Dawn finally turned toward him.

“But she’s a woman.” The words came, anyway. Zack wanted to snatch them back.

More so when he saw the pathetic glow in his wife’s eyes as she nodded again.

CHAPTER TWO

ZACK TOOK ANOTHER SIP of beer, tried to clear his head, to send himself on another path. But the words and pictures just kept coming.

“But she’s a woman.” He’d said the words so innocently, as though his wife didn’t know damn well what she was asking him to accept. Even now, after almost a year, he still couldn’t believe that his wife had left him for a woman. That the woman he’d slept with for six years was more attracted to her own sex than she was to him.

He finished his beer in one long gulp and opened another.

In spite of making every effort not to fall in to the trap, he was back there again, seeing that glow in her eyes…

HE REELED BACK, feeling as though he’d been sucker punched. He had been sucker punched.

“I’m so sorry,” Dawn said, her voice barely audible as her tears started to fall in earnest. “You don’t know how hard I’ve fought this, but I just can’t fight anymore.”

There were a million things he didn’t say. Accusations. Questions. Zack couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even think clearly enough to string coherent thoughts together. He could only stand there and stare at his sweet feminine wife. And wait.

Wait for her to do something. To take back the things she’d just said. Things that were too terrible to bear.

“Last night Barbara asked me to move in with her, and I can’t tell her no, Zack. I want to be with her, to share her life more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. Suddenly things feel right—peaceful. When I’m with her, I feel…complete.”

It just kept getting worse. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“A while.”

“How long?” He was sure it didn’t matter, but he had to focus on something before he crawled right out of his skin.

“I met her last year at the Phoenix Open.”

She’d been there as a company sponsor, schmoozing in a VIP booth.

“You’ve been seeing her for more than a year?” He thought of all the nights he’d made love to her in the past fourteen months.

“For a long time we were just friends.”

“Define ‘long time.”’

“I don’t know. Six months, maybe.”

Which left eight unaccounted for. He nodded, clenching his jaw so hard it ached.

“Then, one night after we’d gone to a movie, she asked me if I wanted to stop by her place for a drink….”

“I don’t want to hear this.” He ordered himself to vacate the premises, but his damn feet wouldn’t move. There was going to be a punch line here somewhere. He just had to wait for it.

“She came out to me that night…”

“What does that mean?” The words were clipped, but they were the best he could do.

“She told me she was interested in having a relationship with me and asked me if that was something I would consider.”

“Friendship wasn’t relationship enough?” he muttered sarcastically. His world was out of control and he couldn’t seem to stop it from spinning faster and faster.

“I know this is hard for you to understand—”

“Damn straight it’s hard,” he interrupted. “Try impossible.”

Dawn sank down onto their bed, and as much as he wanted to hate her, Zack had to admire the way she was sticking this out. Trying to do the decent thing by him. Some distant part of Zack even appreciated the attention she was giving him.

“I’m in love with her,” she said, shaking her head helplessly.

“We’re talking about a woman here!”

“I know.” Her face lined with confusion, she sounded as though she was finding it as difficult to make sense of all this as he was. Except that she’d apparently had a lot longer to get used to the idea. Eight months, to be exact.

Zack turned away. He couldn’t even look at the bed he’d shared with her during the past eight months. Couldn’t think of all the times he’d made love to her.

Oh, God. He felt sicker than ever. Had she been thinking of another woman whenever he’d…

“How does a woman suddenly decide she wants another woman?” he demanded, feeling frustrated. Hurt.

“I suspected I might be a lesbian even before we got married.”

“You had relationships with other women way back then?” He swung around to pin her with an accusing glare. How in hell could he not have known?

“No.” She shook her head, withstood his look. “I could never quite acknowledge that there were just times when I’d feel something—or more importantly, wouldn’t feel something.”

That punched him in the gut. “You were faking the whole time you were with me?”

“No!” She stood, approached him, stopping only when he started to back away from her. “That’s just it. When I met you, when you touched me, I felt real desire for a man for the first time in my life. I can’t tell you how relieved I was.”

Zack held out a hand to her. “Then…”

She shook her head, forestalling his words. “It didn’t last,” she said. “Or at least, not strongly enough. I feel things when I’m with Barbara that I’ve never felt before. This is right for me, Zack. I’m one hundred percent sure of it.”

There appeared to be nothing left to say. Hands in his slacks pockets, Zack wondered how best to extricate himself, pride intact.

“I care very much for you, Zack,” she said beseechingly. He couldn’t figure out why she’d bothered to say that.

“Not enough, apparently.”

“Plenty,” she countered. “More than you’ll ever know. It’s killing me to do this.”

“Then don’t do it.” So much for pride. “Let’s just forget this whole conversation ever took place.”

But could he really? Every time he looked at her he’d have to picture her with—

“I just don’t feel anything…sexually when I’m with you.”

He felt the blood drain from his face.

“I want more than anything to be your friend.”

“I don’t think that’ll be possible.” The cold voice that said those words wasn’t one he even recognized.

Dawn bowed her head. “I understand.”

“Do you?” the stranger’s voice continued.

“Yes,” she whispered, fresh tears pooling in her soft blue eyes as she looked up at him. “Please, please don’t blame yourself for this,” she begged him, touching his arm.

Zack jerked away. “Who else am I to blame when my wife tells me that I’m not only unable to keep her happy in our bed, I can’t manage to keep her at all? That she doesn’t want to be married to me because…because I’m the wrong sex. If that makes any sense.”

“I had the…tendencies before I ever met you, Zack.”

“But I was able to change that. To turn you on.”

“For a brief time, yes.” She nodded.

“Maybe if I’d been man enough, the time wouldn’t have been so brief.” His own voice was back—sort of. It was thick with emotion. Saying things he couldn’t stomach.

“If you hadn’t been such an incredible man, I would never have felt anything to begin with.”

“Perhaps that would have been better.”

“Perhaps. For you, at least.”

He glanced over at her, wondering what she meant by that.

“I’ll never be sorry that I knew you Zack. You’ve added dimensions to my life that I’ll cherish forever.”

He didn’t need any of her sap for his battered pride. He didn’t need anything from her.

He knew what she was saying. Understood that he wasn’t to blame for Dawn’s choices. But deep down in his gut, he still felt responsible. Somehow.

“I’ll be gone tonight,” he told her, striding for the door.

“You’ll need time to arrange for movers and—”

“I don’t want a damn thing from this house,” he said, “except Sammie and Bear. They’re mine.” That was the only thing he was sure of. “You can have it all—sell it all—I don’t give a damn what you do with it….”

A wet nose nudged Zack’s palm, brought him back to the present. He ignored it. He still didn’t give a damn. It was the only way to get from one day to the next. Because you couldn’t take anything for granted. Not even something as basic as love and marriage. One minute it was there, and the very next minute, reality could completely change.

The only given was himself.

The nose nudged him again. Harder.

Looking into Sammie’s big dark eyes, Zack sighed, setting down the bottle he still clutched in one hand. Hell.

He’d gone and done it, anyway—he’d thought of Dawn. Relived that whole last horrible scene—for the first time in weeks.

He’d wallowed.

And he hated that.

“Okay, Sammie, my girl, from now on, we play catch in the evenings, got it?” he asked.

She wagged her tail, turned in a circle and barked.

Now there was one female he could count on.

IN DEFERENCE TO the cooler sixty-degree temperature, Randi pulled a sweatshirt over the usual bike shorts and cropped T-shirt she wore to work. And added the finishing touch, the sports socks and tennis shoes that were also standard attire for the youngest women’s athletic director Montford University had ever had. Classes didn’t start for another week—the fifteenth of January—but Randi, along with the rest of the Montford faculty, was due back the Monday before.

Not a minute too soon, as far as she was concerned.

Running her fingers through her short blond hair, she dashed for her Jeep. She had a meeting later that morning with her head basketball coach—recruitment possibilities to discuss—but Randi had something else to accomplish first. Something to knock off her list—she hoped.

The Shelter Valley Veterinary Clinic was just around the corner from downtown, not even a block from Main Street. The newish-looking structure was familiar to Randi, but only from a drive-by position. She’d never had reason to visit it before.

And hoped never to have reason to visit it again.

What could Will have been thinking, giving her this assignment? He had to know she’d try to unload it.

Which might very well have been his plan. Cancel the whole thing. Who ever heard of a university having a pet-therapy club, anyway?

Parking the Jeep, Randi hopped out and latched the door behind her. She could just picture it, a bunch of dogs in private offices, sitting in armchairs in front of couches, administering therapy to emotionally disturbed people.

Shaking her head, she entered the building. Cassie Tate had opened the clinic almost three years before, but from what Randi had heard, she wasn’t in town all that much now that she was teaching the rest of the country about pet therapy. Randi had gone to school with Cassie, and while they hadn’t been particularly close—Cassie had only had eyes, and time, for Sam Montford, and Randi had already been in training for her stint with the Ladies Professional Golf Association—Randi had always respected Cassie.

“Can I help you?” a young college student asked from her position behind the reception counter.

“Sure,” Randi said, glancing around the waiting room as she approached. One woman with a cat. In a carrier. “Is Dr. Foster around?”

“Zack?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have an appointment?” The girl looked down at the book in front of her and then over the counter to notice Randi’s lack of a pet.

“No,” she said. She’d been hoping to just pop in and make this short and sweet. Emphasis on short.

“Can I tell him who’s here?”

“Randi Parsons. I’m from the university, and I need to speak with him about the pet-therapy club.”