He clicked on his cell phone and speed-dialed his office. “Beth? Mark. Rick’s just dumped a new lady vet in our laps. Get her a suite at the motel, could you? And stock it? Ground floor, I think. Thanks.”
He hung up, shut his briefcase and headed for the door. He’d be willing to bet that the job of letting Dr. Marsdon down gently was one Rick would leave to him.
“SO, HOW WAS THE WEATHER in St. Paul?” Rick said as he propelled Sarah down the hall.
“I left in a snowstorm.”
“You have snow in April?”
“Won’t last long, but it was a mess to drive in until I got south of Eau Claire. After that, I made great time. Drove half the night. I can’t believe it’s almost summer in Tennessee.”
“Just wait until August.”
“It gets hot in St. Paul, too.”
“Not a soggy heat like Memphis, I’ll bet.” He opened a door onto a small operating room. “Mac, when you’re finished spaying that Dachshund, stick your head in my office and meet Sarah Marsdon, our newest staff member.”
The large man in scrubs and mask who stood at the operating table grunted but didn’t lift his head from the small brown dog that lay on her back.
Rick closed the door quietly. “John McIntyre Thorn, our resident ogre. The best surgeon I have ever met, but he has the personality of a Tasmanian devil.”
“That makes two people whose bad sides I don’t want to get on. You got any nice guys around here?”
“Everybody else is pretty nice. But overworked.”
“What else is new? This place is enormous, Rick, and downright palatial. You’re very lucky to have this much suburban land to build a clinic on.”
Rick opened another door on a small utilitarian office. “Margot’s dad is the biggest real estate developer in these parts. He gave us the ten acres. Sit. You must be tired after your drive. Want a soft drink? Coffee?”
“No, thanks.” Sarah sat down. “What about zoning variances? You’re surrounded by expensive mansions with acres of manicured lawns. Didn’t the neighbors object?”
“That’s where Mark Scott comes in. He was dead set against this project, but once Coy told him we were committed, he did the research. The land was zoned agricultural and light industrial and hadn’t ever been changed to residential.”
“Like I said, lucky you.”
Rick rubbed his fingers under his eyes. “A few of the neighbors don’t approve. Most of the area residents were glad to see us—better than a fast-food joint or a chicken ranch—but a couple of people whose kids prefer motorcycles and fast cars to horses are still fighting us tooth and nail.”
“I see.”
“Hey, it’s just another of those handy-dandy little problems that come with the territory, right?”
Sarah wondered at the weary exasperation in his tone. His eyes were red-rimmed. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks. He was a far cry from the bouncy guy she’d met two years ago at the Kansas City conference, when he’d approached her about taking a job in the new clinic he was planning to build.
She shoved down her misgivings. “I’m dying to see the large-animal facilities,” she said, and noted the change in Rick’s color to pale gray.
“Um, yes. We’re a little behind on getting everything finished.” He hurried on. “Punch list things. Minor, mostly. Look, I know you must be exhausted. Go get some rest. I’ve got you scheduled for two to ten p.m. for the first few days, so you overlap all but the midnight-to-eight shift. But if you could come in about eleven tomorrow you could meet the day staff first. Then we can go over the whole place and go through the large-animal area. Okay by you?”
She didn’t want to wait until morning. She’d never been able to hold on to her lollipop until she got out of the candy store. But something told her Rick was uncomfortable, and it was never a good idea to start a new job by making your boss uncomfortable. She tamped down her anxiety and said, “Sure. I’ll need a hotel room for a week or so while I look for someplace more permanent. Any suggestions?”
“I asked Mark to book you into a good motel. Check with him.”
The blond girl named Alva Jean stuck her head in the door. “Hey, Dr. Hazard, could you give us a hand with Egg Roll? He’s got Dr. Bill backed into a corner.” She snickered. “He’s looking at Dr. Bill like he’s another piece of candy.”
“Of course,” Rick said, with what Sarah thought was relief. He raised his hands apologetically. “Sorry, Sarah, duty calls.”
“Can I help?” Sarah asked. “I like pigs, and I’m generally pretty good with them.”
“No, no, wouldn’t think of it! Alva, please ask Mark to take care of Dr. Marsdon.” And with that, Rick was gone. When he opened the door to the examining room, Sarah heard a cacophony of grunts, a female voice shouting, “Egg Roll, stop that!” and a male tenor shouting, “Get off my foot, dammit!”
Sarah desperately wanted to help, but Rick had told her she wasn’t needed. She sat on the hard chair and crossed her arms. Great. Just great. What was that old saying? When something sounds too good to be true, it usually is. Rick’s job offer had sounded like paradise and had come at absolutely the best possible moment. Things at home were a mess. No matter how often she tried to tell him, Gerald never understood why she was so upset with him. Neither did her family. They always took Gerald’s side. In addition to her personal problem was her unhappiness in her job. No wonder Rick’s offer had seemed like the perfect opportunity to start afresh.
The door opened and Mark Scott leaned in. “Hi. How about we get out of here and go see your motel? We’ll have to take both cars, so I’ll lead, you follow.” He handed her a card. “This is my cell phone number. If you get lost, call me.”
“On what? A can and a string?”
His eyebrows went up. “No cell phone?”
“It belonged to the practice in St. Paul. I’ve never had one of my own.”
“Okay. I’ll put that on my list. We’ll get you one tomorrow morning. Until then, just stick close to my tail.”
He turned around and left with the blithe assumption that she’d trot after him. Watching that particular tail in its well-tailored slacks, she suspected that most women did trot after him.
She intended to keep her vow. No more good-looking men. No more entrepreneurs and titans of industry. No more hard-driving A-type personalities. She’d sworn off them forever. One Gerald in a lifetime was one too many.
The next time she fell for a man, if she ever did, she’d find a nice, gentle nest-builder with a sensitive heart, who actually listened to the things she had to say. A nurturer. Someone with glasses.
Her ruminations took her to the parking lot, where she watched Mark climb into a British racing-green Jaguar sedan. He would drive a Jag. He’d never be able to fit his long legs under the dashboard of a Porsche.
She climbed into her black Dodge Ram truck and pulled in behind him. He drove well and made following him easy, though she’d never be able to find the clinic again on her own with all the twists and turns they took down country roads, past vines heavy with wisteria and riots of azaleas in bloom.
After a twenty-minute drive, the Jag pulled up to a shiny new motel advertising executive suites. He climbed out, waited for her to pull up beside him, and lo and behold, opened her door for her and offered her a hand. It felt cool, smooth.