Harry delivered an ultimatum to me, I told him he would not be dictating my clients and patients, and he informed me that the Hatchetts would no longer be clients of mine.
I haven’t told anyone yet—not Cory, not my father—as I try to wrap my head around what this means for the clinic’s bottom line. But my guess is, my father has already heard.
“Joe and I are going up to the ranch to pay a deposit.” Cory collects her purse. “I might be a few minutes late, if that’s okay?”
“Of course. Have fun.” A part of me is envious of my assistant. I remember when Jonathan and I were going through the motions of planning a wedding. It was exciting for a time, despite how it all fell apart in the end. We visited locations around Anchorage, collected quotes, but I kept finding excuses for why none of them felt right. It turns out the location was never the issue. I needed a different groom.
“You want me to lock up?”
“It’s fine. We won’t go far.” Dad still struggles on his crutches on smooth ground. I’d rather he stay put out here.
I flip the Closed sign on the clinic door and grab a light jacket as I walk out. It’s sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit today—the warmest it’s been all month, given the onslaught of rain we’ve had. But I don’t mind, because more rain means less risk of the forest fires that have ravaged the state, year after year.
All three dogs followed my father here, but they’re busy sniffing the bushes for various scents from clinic animals relieving themselves. “I can’t believe Mom allowed this.”
“I snuck out while she was distracted.” He pats the basket. “I thought you’d like to watch me eat, if you’ve got time.”
“I always have time for you.”
He winks. “I knew I was your favorite.”
With a chuckle, I climb into the passenger seat, stealing a glance inside the basket. “Pulled pork?” I was expecting turkey on rye—the healthy choice, and a staple in my father’s diet.
“There’s a lot going on, and your mother’s been stress cooking all morning.” He gives the UTV gas. It lurches toward the nearby picnic table.
“Are you still being difficult?”
“Not me. For once.” He gives me a sideways glance. “I suppose you haven’t talked to Vicki yet, have you?”
His question catches me off guard. “Not since I went over on Monday so she could cut my hair.” A twinge of panic stirs in my stomach. “Why? What’s wrong? Is Molly okay?”
“She’s fine. They’re all fine.” His shoulders slump. “Vicki’s pregnant.”
I gasp. “Again?” Molly’s only five months old!
“It’s funny how biology works, huh?” He chuckles. “Clearly those two missed that day in school.”
“She can’t even get a night’s sleep!”
“They definitely found something to do while they weren’t sleeping.”
My thoughts are spinning. “What were they thinking? How can they afford this?”
“They weren’t thinking. And they can’t.” Dad shakes his head. “Hence, the pulled pork sandwiches and the apple pie baking as we speak.”
*
“Bonnie Hatchett called me this morning.”
“I was wondering when you’d bring that up,” I mumble around the last of my sandwich. We’ve been too busy discussing Vicki and Oliver’s carelessness that has now put them in a position of having to raise two babies on one meager income and a vehicle that is in the garage every other month.
And yet, despite the panic my sister is surely swirling in, there’s that part of me that envies her for the things she has that seem to have slipped from my grasp.
“Bonnie was upset to learn that you’d throw away a four-decade relationship so easily.”
Of course she’d blame me. “What’d you say?”
“What could I say? I didn’t even know you were taking on Tyler Brady’s kennel until she told me.”
“I know. I should have mentioned something sooner. It all happened kind of fast, and I wasn’t sure I’d agree until yesterday.” That’s not totally truthful. I knew, when Tyler was standing in my lobby, pleading with me, that I was a goner. Tyler transferred money to cover his bill within ten minutes of Cory sending it. That’s a promising start. “It’s good money for the clinic, and you should see the place, Dad. It makes the Hatchetts’ look like a run-down circus show. He knows what he’s doing. More than Harry does, that’s for sure. Maybe even more than Earl did.”