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Moonlight Over Manhattan: A charming, heart-warming and lovely read that won’t disappoint!
Sarah Morgan
From the number 1 bestselling author of Sleigh Bells in the Snow‘An absolute delight’ Sunday Times bestselling Veronica HenryDetermined to conquer a lifetime of shyness, Harriet Knight challenges herself to do one thing a day in December that scares her, including celebrating Christmas without her family. But when dog-walker Harriet meets her newest client, exuberant spaniel Madi, she adds an extra challenge to her list – dealing with Madi's temporary dog-sitter, gruff doctor Ethan Black, and their very unexpected chemistry.Ethan thought he was used to chaos, until he met Madi – how can one tiny dog cause such mayhem? To Ethan, the solution is simple – he will pay Harriet to share his New York apartment and provide 24-hour care. But there's nothing simple about how Harriet makes him feel.Ethan's kisses make Harriet shine brighter than the stars over moonlit Manhattan. But when his dog-sitting duties are over, and Harriet returns to her own home, will she dare to take the biggest challenge of all – letting Ethan know he has her heart for life, not just for Christmas?


Praise for Sarah Morgan (#ulink_b70c1d61-95e0-54a2-9c2d-6a53b6385e04)
‘The perfect book to curl up with’
Heat
‘Lovers of romance will relish this tale of friendship, fun and flirting set in beautiful New York.’
My Weekly
‘Morgan excels in balancing the sweet and sexy to create the perfect blend.’
Booklist
‘A gorgeously sparkly romance about letting go and learning to love again.’ Julia Williams, bestselling author of Coming Home for Christmas
‘Full of romance and sparkle’
Lovereading
‘Morgan is a magician with words’
RT Book Reviews
‘Definitely looking forward to more from Sarah Morgan’
Smexy Books
‘Morgan’s novel delivers the classic sweep-you-off-your-feet romantic experience.’
Publisher’s Weekly
‘Perfect chick-lit’
BEST Magazine
‘Her dynamic prose like narrative is eloquent, the laugh-out-loud humor lightens the load and both her big-city and small-town settings are perfect’
RT Book Reviews
SARAH MORGAN lives near London with her husband and two sons. An international bestseller, her books have been translated into more than 30 languages and she has sold over 15 million copies. For more about Sarah visit her website www.sarahmorgan.com (http://www.sarahmorgan.com), and sign up to her newsletter. She loves to connect with readers on Facebook (www.facebook.com/AuthorSarahMorgan (http://www.facebook.com/AuthorSarahMorgan)), Twitter and Instagram.


Dear Reader (#u908a3443-f544-54f8-8617-b2f2d7920bb5)
One of my favorite quotes (and I’ve used it in the front of this book) is from Eleanor Roosevelt, who said ‘do one thing every day that scares you’.
That quote is perfect for the heroine of this story. Harriet is a twin, and she is the shy twin. Life wasn’t easy for her growing up and now her confident twin sister has moved out of their apartment, she is forced to make a new life for herself. And it’s hard. She knows she has to push herself out of her comfort zone, and so resolves to do one thing every day that challenges her.
Like most people, Harriet is a mixture of strength and vulnerability and I loved watching her grow in confidence and find her own path.
As some of you know, I wrote a number of medical romances before writing longer books, and I still can’t resist a sexy doctor. So my hero in this story, Dr. Ethan Black, works in the emergency department (as I did, many years ago before I changed careers and started writing stories while wearing my pajamas.) He is my favorite type of hero – strong, kind, smart and patient. I don’t blame Harriet for falling in love with him (I hope you do too!), but in the end loving Ethan becomes her greatest challenge of all.
This is a story about pushing the boundaries. It’s about courage, friendship and of course romance, all against the snowy, sparkly backdrop of New York City.
I hope you love it.
Sarah
xxx
To Nora, Laura, Ruth, Mary, Kat and Janeen for the laughs, friendship and great memories.
“Do one thing every day that scares you.”
Eleanor Roosevelt
Contents
Cover (#u9d92d6ab-feca-56b7-9a7c-930fb6f69186)
Praise (#ulink_3aed58d1-be51-58da-bfb9-ecfb70ce9026)
About the Author (#ub94d06f0-2590-5fda-ac60-498c80b9af5f)
Title Page (#u7a79e006-9aed-5160-af35-123f23a9ef62)
Dear Reader (#u8a1e21b7-dfdd-5df7-ad1e-72ead2c5e667)
Dedication (#u69da5bfa-eb95-5622-9552-54cb68bcc16d)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_92e1f3a4-f9c1-5e07-af83-6adc42fd7c71)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_bdbe18e5-1d39-5fb8-8858-e5bb00ea6e5d)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_1a6a71f4-e70d-5aaf-be3f-3fe4b8820b03)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_ab1c1037-54c7-576c-92ff-3654a31d850e)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_fa293ed7-e61a-51b6-8625-7aa451e5c360)
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_6f49e3e1-3b0f-5f34-8987-f71cf79f277b)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_e72b8274-490e-5ee9-9ca4-fa53b588c09f)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_1cded4ee-da01-5b43-ae3f-1fca849f5aa2)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
BONUS STORY – A NEW YORK CHRISTMAS FAIRY TALE
THANK YOU (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt from HOW TO KEEP A SECRET (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_28c16fc8-d3ba-54c1-b91b-c34b90d26f47)
THIS WASN’T HOW a date was supposed to end.
If she’d known she was going to have to climb out of the window of the ladies’ room, she wouldn’t have chosen tonight to wear insanely high heels. Why hadn’t she spent more time learning to balance before leaving her apartment?
She’d never been a high heel sort of person, which was exactly why she was now wearing a pair of skyscraper stilettos. Another thing ticked off the list she’d made of Things Harriet Knight Wouldn’t Normally Do.
It was an embarrassingly long list, compiled one lonely October night when she’d realized that the reason she was sitting in the apartment on her own, talking to the animals she fostered, was that she lived her life safely cocooned inside her comfort zone. At this rate she was going to die alone, surrounded by a hundred dogs and cats.
Here lies Harriet, who knew a lot about hair balls, but not a whole lot about the other kind.
A life of sin would have been more exciting, but she’d picked up the wrong rule book when she was born. As a child she’d learned how to hide. How to make herself small, if not exactly invisible. Ever since then she’d trodden the safest path, and she’d done it while wearing sensible shoes. Plenty of people, including her twin sister and her brother, would say she had good reason for that. Whatever reasons lay in her past, she lived a small life and she was uncomfortably aware that she kept it that way through choice.
The F word loomed big in her world.
Not the curse. She wasn’t the sort of person who cursed. For her, the F word was Fear.
Fear of humiliation, fear of failing, fear of what other people thought of her, and all those fears originated from fear of her father.
She was tired of the F word.
She didn’t want to live life alone, which was why she’d decided that for Christmas she was giving herself a new gift.
Courage.
She didn’t want to look back on her life in fifty years’ time and wonder about the things she might have done had she been braver. She didn’t want to feel regret. During a happy Thanksgiving spent with Daniel and his soon-to-be wife, Molly, she’d distilled her fear list to a challenge a day.
Challenge Harriet.
She was going on a quest to find the confidence that eluded her and if she couldn’t find it then she’d fake it.
For the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas, she would do one thing every day that scared her, or at least made her uncomfortable. It had to be something that made her think I don’t want to do that.
For one month, she would make a point of doing the opposite of what she would usually do.
A month of putting herself through her own kind of hell.
She was going to emerge from the challenge a new, improved version of herself. Stronger. Bolder. More confident. More—everything.
Which was why she was now hanging out of a bathroom window being supported by her new best friend Natalie. Luckily for her, the restaurant wasn’t on the roof terrace.
“Take your shoes off,” Natalie advised. “I’ll drop them down to you.”
“They’ll impale me or knock me unconscious. It might be safer to keep them on my feet, Natalie.” There were days when she questioned the benefits of being sensible, but right now she wasn’t sure if it stopped her having fun or if it kept her alive.
“Call me Nat. If I’m helping you escape, we might as well drop the formalities. And you can’t keep those shoes on your feet. You’ll injure yourself when you land. And give me your purse.”
Harriet clung to it. This was New York City. She would no more hand her purse to a stranger than she would walk naked through Central Park. It went against every instinct she had. She was the type of person who looked twice before she crossed the road, who checked the lock on her door before she went to sleep. She wasn’t a risk-taker.
Which was exactly why she should do it.
Forcing down the side of her that wanted to clutch the purse to her chest and never let it go, she thrust it at Nat. “Take it. And drop it down to me.” She eased one leg out of the window, ignoring the voice of anxiety that rang loud in her head. What if she didn’t? What if she ran off with it? Used all her credit cards? Stole her identity?
If Nat wanted to steal her identity, she was welcome to it. She was more than ready to be someone else. Particularly after the evening she’d just had.
Being herself wasn’t working out so well.
Through the open window she could hear the roar of traffic, the cacophony of horns, the squealing of brakes, the background rumble that was New York City. Harriet had lived here all her life. She knew virtually every street and every building. Manhattan was as familiar to her as her own living room, if considerably larger.
Nat took her shoes from her. “Try not to rip your coat. Great coat, by the way. Love the color, Harriet.”
“The coat is new. I bought it especially for this date because I had high hopes. Which proves that an optimistic nature can be a disadvantage.”
“I think it’s lovely to be optimistic. Optimists are like Christmas lights. They brighten everything around them. Are you really a twin? That’s very cool.”
Today’s challenge had been Don’t be reserved with strangers. She was fine when she got to know someone, but often she didn’t even make it past those first excruciatingly awkward stages. She was determined to change that.
Given that she and Natalie had met precisely thirty minutes earlier when she’d served her a delicious-looking shrimp salad, she was satisfied she’d made at least some progress. She hadn’t clammed up or responded in monosyllables as she frequently did with people she didn’t know. Most important of all she hadn’t stammered, which she took as evidence that she’d finally learned to control the speech fluency issues that had blighted her life until her twenties. It had been years now since she’d stumbled her way through a sentence and even stressful situations didn’t seem to trigger it, so there was no excuse for being so cautious with strangers.
All in all, a good result. And part of that was down to the support of her sister.
“It is cool being a twin. Very cool.”
Nat gave a wistful sigh. “She’s your best friend, right? You share everything? Confidences. Shoes…”
“Most things.” The truth was that, until recently, she’d been the one to do most of the sharing. Fliss found it hard to open up, even to Harriet, but lately she’d been trying hard to change.
And Harriet was trying to change too. She’d told her twin she didn’t need protecting, and now she had to prove it to herself.
Being a twin had many advantages, but one of the disadvantages was that it made you lazy. Or maybe complacent would be a better word. She’d never had to worry too much about navigating the stormy waters of the friendship pool because her best friend had always been right there by her side. Whatever life had thrown at them, and it had thrown plenty, she and Fliss had been a unit. Other people had good friendships but nothing, nothing, came close to the wonder of having a twin.
When it came to sisters, she’d won the lottery.
Nat tucked Harriet’s purse under her arm. “So you share an apartment?”
“We did. Not anymore.” Harriet wondered how it was some people could talk and talk without stopping. How long before the man sitting inside the restaurant came looking for her? “She’s living in the Hamptons now.” Not a million miles away, but it might as well have been a million miles. “She fell in love.”
“Great for her I guess, but you must miss her like crazy.”
That was an understatement.
The impact on Harriet had been huge, and her emotions were conflicted. She was thrilled to see her twin so happy but, for the first time in her life, she was now living alone. Waking up alone. Doing everything alone.
At first it had felt strange and a little scary, like the first time you rode a bike without training wheels. It also made her feel a little vulnerable, like going out for a walk in a blizzard and realizing you’d left your coat behind.
But this was now the reality of her life.
She woke in the mornings to silence instead of Fliss’s off-key singing. She missed her sister’s energy, her fierce loyalty, her dependability. She even missed tripping over her shoes, which had been habitually strewn across the floor.
Most of all she missed the easy camaraderie of being with someone who knew you. Someone you trusted implicitly.
A lump formed in her throat. “I should go before he comes looking for me. I cannot believe I’m climbing out of a window to get away from a man I only met thirty minutes ago. This is not the kind of thing I do.”
Neither was online dating, which was why she’d forced herself to try it.
This was her third date, and the other two had been almost as bad.
The first man had reminded her of her father. He’d been loud, opinionated and in love with the sound of his own voice. Overwhelmed, Harriet had retreated into herself, but in this instance it hadn’t mattered because it had been clear he had no interest in her opinions. The second man had taken her to an expensive restaurant and then disappeared after dessert, leaving her with a check big enough to ensure she would always remember him, and as for the third—well, he was currently sitting at the table in the window waiting for her to return from the bathroom so they could fall in love and live happily ever after. And in his case “ever after” wasn’t likely to be long because despite his claim that he was in his prime, it was clear he was already long past retirement age.
She would have called time on the date and walked out of the front door if she hadn’t had a feeling he would follow her. Something about him made her feel uneasy. And anyway, climbing out of the window of a ladies’ room was definitely something she would never do.
In terms of Challenge Harriet, it had been a successful evening.
In terms of romance, not so much.
Right now, dying surrounded by dogs and cats was looking like the better option.
“Go.” Nat opened the window wider and her expression brightened. “It’s snowing! We’re going to have a white Christmas.”
Snowing?
Harriet stared at the lazy swirl of snowflakes. “It’s not Christmas for another month.”
“But it’s going to be a white Christmas, I feel it. There is nowhere more magical than New York in the snow. I love the holidays, don’t you?”
Harriet opened her mouth and closed it again. Normally her answer would have been yes. She adored the holidays and the emphasis on family, even if hers was restricted to siblings. But this year she’d decided she was going to spend Christmas without them. And that was going to be the biggest challenge of all. She had the best part of a month of practice to build up to the big one.
“I really should be going.”
“You should. I don’t want your body to be discovered frozen to the sidewalk. Go. And don’t fall in the Dumpster.”
“Falling into the Dumpster would be a step up from everything else that has happened this evening.” Harriet glanced down. It wasn’t far and anyway, how much further could she fall? She felt as if she’d already hit rock bottom. “Maybe I should go back and explain that he wasn’t what I was expecting. Then I could walk out the front door and not risk walking home with a twisted ankle and food wrappers stuck to my new coat.”
“No.” Nat shook her head. “Don’t even think about it. The guy is creepy. I’ve told you, you’re the third woman he’s brought here this week. And there’s something not quite right about the way he looked at you. As if you were going to be dessert.”
She’d thought the same thing.
Her instincts had been shrieking at her, but part of Challenge Harriet was learning to ignore her instincts.
“It seems rude.”
“This is New York. You have to be street-smart. I’m going to keep him distracted until you’re a safe distance away.” Nat glanced toward the door, as if she was afraid the man might burst in at any moment. “I couldn’t believe it when he started calling you babycheeks. I have to ask this—why did you agree to meet him? What was it about him that attracted you? You’re the third gorgeous woman he’s brought here this week. Does he have some special quality? What made you agree to choose him?”
“I didn’t choose him. I chose the guy in his online dating profile. I suspect he may have reality issues.” She thought back to the moment he’d sat down opposite her. He had so obviously not been the person in his profile that she’d smiled politely and told him she was waiting for someone.
Instead of apologizing and moving on, he’d sat down in the chair opposite her. “You must be Harriet? Dog lover, cake lover. I love an affectionate woman who knows her way around a kitchen. We’re going to do just fine together.”
That was the moment Harriet had known for sure she wasn’t cut out for online dating.
Why, oh why had she used her real name? Fliss would have made something up. Probably something outrageous.
Nat looked fascinated. “What did his dating profile say?”
“That he was in his thirties.” She thought of the thick shock of white hair and the wrinkled brow. The yellowed teeth and the graying fuzz on his jaw. But the worst thing had been the way he’d leered at her.
“Thirty? He must be at least twice that. Or maybe he’s like a dog where each year is seven years. That would make him—” she wrinkled her nose “—two hundred and ten in human years. Jeez, that’s old.”
“He was sixty-eight,” Harriet said. “He told me he feels thirty inside. And his profile said that he works in investment, but when I questioned that he confessed that he’s investing his pension.”
Nat doubled over laughing and Harriet shook her head.
She felt weary. And stupid.
“After three dates, I’ve lost my sense of humor. That’s it. I’m done.”
All she wanted was fun and a little human company. Was that too much to ask?
“You decided to give love a chance. Nothing wrong with that. But someone like you shouldn’t struggle to meet people. What’s your job? Don’t you meet anyone through work?”
“I’m a dog walker. I spend my day with handsome, four-legged animals. They are always who you think they are. Although having said that I do walk a terrier who thinks he’s a Rottweiler. That does create some issues.”
Maybe she should stick with dogs.
She’d proved to herself that she could do the whole online dating thing if she had to. She’d ticked it off her list. It was victory of a sort.
Nat opened the window wider. “Report him to the dating site so he doesn’t put any more unsuspecting women in the position of having to jump out the window. And look on the bright side. At least he didn’t scam you out of your life savings.” She checked the street. “You’re clear.”
“Nice meeting you, Nat. And thank you for everything.”
“If a woman can’t help another woman in trouble, where would we be? Come back soon.”
Harriet felt a tug deep inside.
Friendship. That was perhaps the only F word she liked.
Feeling a flash of regret that she would never be going anywhere near this restaurant ever again, because she genuinely liked Natalie, Harriet held her breath and dropped onto the sidewalk.
She felt her ankle twist and a sharp, agonizing pain shot up her leg.
“You okay?” Nat dropped her shoes and her purse and Harriet winced as they thudded into her lap. It seemed that the only thing she was taking away from this date was bruises.
“Never better.”
Victory, she thought, was both painful and undignified.
The window above her closed and Harriet was immediately aware of two things. First, that putting weight on her ankle was agony. Second, that unless she wanted to hobble home in bare feet, she was going to have to put on the stilettos she’d borrowed from the pile of shoes Fliss had left behind.
Gingerly, she slid the shoe onto her foot and sucked in a breath as pain shot through her ankle.
For the first time in her life she used the F word to express something other than fear.
Another box ticked in project Challenge Harriet.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_8280d6c1-abbb-5b88-9227-2eb03ade1ee8)
ACROSS TOWN IN the trauma suite of one of New York’s most prestigious hospitals, Dr. Ethan Black and the rest of the trauma team smoothly and efficiently cut away the ripped, bloodied clothing of the unconscious man to expose the damage beneath. And the damage was plenty. Enough to test the skills of the team and ensure that their patient would remember this night for the rest of his life.
As far as Ethan was concerned, motorcycles were one of the world’s worst inventions. Certainly the worst mode of transport. Many of the patients brought in following motorcycle injuries were male, and a high proportion had multiple injuries. This man was no exception. He’d been wearing a helmet, but that hadn’t prevented him from sustaining what looked like a severe head injury.
“Intubate him and get a line in—” He assessed the damage as he worked, issuing instructions.
The team was gathered around, finding coherence in something that to an outsider would have seemed like chaos. Each person had a role, and each person was clear about what that role was. Of all the places in the hospital it was here, in the emergency room, that the teamwork was the strongest.
“He lost control and hit an oncoming car.”
Screaming came from the corridor outside, followed by a torrent of abuse delivered at a high enough pitch to shatter windows.
One of the residents winced. Ethan didn’t react. There were days when he wondered if he’d actually become desensitized to other people’s responses to crisis. Working in the emergency room brought you into contact with the most extreme of human emotions and distorted your view of both humanity and reality. His normal would be someone else’s horror movie. He’d learned early in his career not to talk about his day in a social situation unless the people present were all medical. These days he was too busy to find himself in too many social situations. Between his clinical responsibilities as attending physician in the emergency room and his research interests, his day was full. The price he’d paid for that was an apartment he rarely saw and an ex-wife.
“Is someone caring for the woman on the end of that scream?”
“She’s not the patient. She just saw her boyfriend knifed. He’s in Trauma 2 with multiple facial lacerations.”
“Someone show her to the waiting room. Calm her down.” Ethan took a closer look at the man’s leg, assessing the damage. “Whatever it takes to stop the screaming.”
“We don’t know how serious the injuries are.”
“All the more reason to project calm. Reassure her that her boyfriend is in good hands and getting the best treatment.”
It was a typical Saturday night. Maybe he should have trained as an ob-gyn, Ethan thought as he continued to assess the patient. Then he would have been there for the high point of people’s lives instead of the low. He would have facilitated birth, instead of fighting to prevent death. He could have celebrated with patients. Instead his Saturday night was invariably spent surrounded by people at crisis point. The victims of traffic accidents, gunshot victims, stabbings, drug addicts looking for a fix—the list was endless and varied.
And the truth was he loved it.
He loved variety and challenge. As a Level 1 Trauma Unit, they had both in copious amounts.
They stabilized the patient sufficiently to send him for a CT scan. Ethan knew that until they had the results of that scan, they wouldn’t be able to assess the extent of his head injury.
He also knew that it was difficult to predict what the scan would show. He’d had patients with minimal visible damage who turned out to have massive internal bleeding and others, like this man as it later turned out, who had a surprisingly minor internal bleed.
He paged the neurosurgeons and spoke to the man’s girlfriend, who had arrived in a panic, wearing a coat over her pajamas and terror in her eyes. In the emergency room everything was concentrated and intense, including emotions. He’d seen big guys who prided themselves on being tough, break down and sob like a child. He’d seen people pray when they didn’t believe in God.
He’d seen it all.
“Is he going to die?”
He handled the same question several times a day, and he was rarely in a position to give a definitive answer. “He is in good hands. We’ll be able to give you more information when we see the results of the scan.” He was kind and calm, reassuring her that whatever could be done was being done. He knew how important it was to know that the person you loved was receiving the very best care, so he took time to explain what was happening and to suggest she call someone to come and be with her.
When the man was finally handed over to the neurosurgical team, Ethan ripped off his gloves and washed his hands. He probably wouldn’t see the patient again. The man was gone from his life, and he’d probably never know about the part Ethan had played in keeping him alive.
Later, he might check on his progress but more often than not he was too busy focusing on the next priority to come through the door to think about those been and gone.
Susan, his colleague, nudged him out of the way and stripped off her gloves too. “That was exciting. Are you ever tempted to take a job in primary care? You could live in a cute small town where you’re caring for three generations of the same family. Grandma, Grandpa, parents and a big bunch of grandkids. You’d spend your day telling them to give up smoking and lose weight. Probably never see a drop of blood.”
“It was what my father did.” And Ethan had never wanted that. His choices were the focus of lively arguments whenever he was home. His grandfather kept telling him he was missing out by not following a family through from birth to death. Ethan argued that he was the one who kept them alive so that they could go back to their families.
“All these months we’ve worked together and I never knew that about you.” Susan scrubbed her hands. “So you come from two generations of doctors?”
They’d worked together for over a year but almost all their conversation had been about the present. The ER was like that. You lived in the moment in every sense.
“Three generations. My father and grandfather both worked in primary care. They had a practice in upstate New York.” He’d sat, five years old, in the waiting room watching as a steady stream of people trooped through the door to speak to his dad. There had been times when he’d wondered if the only way to see his father was to get sick.
“And your mother?”
“She’s a pediatrician.”
“Jeez, Black, I had no idea. So it’s in the DNA.” Susan yanked a paper towel from the dispenser so vigorously she almost removed it from the wall. “Well, that explains it.”
“That explains what?”
“Why you always act like you have something to prove.”
Ethan frowned. Was that true? No. It certainly wasn’t true. “I don’t have anything to prove.”
“You’ve got a lot to live up to.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “Why didn’t you join them? Doctors Black, Black and Black. That’s one hell of a lot of Black right there. Don’t tell me, you just love the warm fuzzy feelings that come from working in the emergency room.” Through the door they heard the woman yell fuck you and exchanged a wry smile. “All those cute patients enveloping you with endless love and gratitude—”
“Gratitude? Wait—I think that did happen to me once, a couple of years ago. Give me a moment while I cast my mind back.”
He didn’t feel as if he had to live up to anything.
Susan was wrong about that. He walked his own path, for his own reasons.
“You must have been hallucinating. Lack of sleep does that for you. So if the rare dose of gratitude isn’t what does it, it must be the patients who curse you, throw up on your boots and tell you you’re the worst doctor that ever graced god’s earth and that they’re going to sue the hell out of you. That works for you?”
The humor got them through days that were fraught with tension.
It sustained them through the darker shifts, through witnessing trauma that would leave the average man on the street in need of therapy.
Everyone in the trauma team found their own way of dealing with it.
They knew, as most people didn’t, that a life could change in an instant. That there was no such thing as a secure future.
“I love that side of it. And then there’s the constant buzz of working with adoring, respectful colleagues like you.”
“You want adoring? Pick a different woman.”
“I wish I could.”
Susan patted his arm. “In fact I do adore you. Not because you’re cute and built, although you are, but because you know what you’re doing and around here competence is as close as it gets to an aphrodisiac. And maybe that’s driven by a desire to be better than your daddy or your granddaddy, but I love it all the same.”
He shot her an incredulous look. “Are you hitting on me?”
“Hey, I want to be with a man who is good with his hands and who knows what he’s doing. What’s wrong with that?” Her eyes twinkled and he knew she was winding him up.
“We are still talking about work?”
“Sure. What else? I’m married to my job, same as you. I promised myself to the ER in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer and I can tell you that living in New York City the emphasis is definitely on poorer. But don’t worry—I wouldn’t be able to stay awake long enough to have sex with you. When I leave this place I fall unconscious the moment I arrive home and I’m not waking up for anyone. Not even you, blue eyes. So if you’re not here for the love and positive feedback, it has to be because you’re an adrenaline junkie.”
“Maybe I am.” It was true that he enjoyed the fast pace, the unpredictability, the adrenaline rush that came with not knowing what would come through the doors next. Emergency medicine was often like a puzzle and he enjoyed the intellectual stimulation of figuring out where the pieces fit and what the picture was. He also enjoyed helping people, although these days the doctor-patient relationship had changed. Now it was all patient satisfaction scores and other metrics that appeared to have little to do with practicing good medicine. There were days when it was hard to stay in touch with the reasons he’d wanted to be a doctor in the first place.
Susan stuffed the towel into the bin. “Know what I love most? When someone comes in all bandaged up and you never know what you’re going to find when you unwrap it. Man, I love the suspense. Will it be a cut the size of a pinhead or will the finger fall off?”
“You’re ghoulish, Parker.”
“I am. Are you telling me you don’t like that part?”
“I like fixing people.” He glanced up as one of the interns walked into the room. “Problems?”
“Where do you want me to start? There are around sixty of them currently waiting, most of them drunk. We have a guy who fell off the table during his office party and hurt his back.”
Ethan frowned. “It’s not even December.”
“They celebrate early. I don’t think he needs an MRI but he’s consulted Dr. Search Engine and is insisting on having one and if I don’t arrange it he is going to sue me for every cent I’m worth. Do you think it would put him off if I tell him the size of my college loans?”
Susan waved a hand. “Ethan will handle it. He’s great at steering people toward the right decision. And if that doesn’t work he’s good at playing Bad Cop.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Bad Cop? Seriously?”
“Hey, it’s a compliment. Not many patients get one past you.”
Backache, headache, toothache—all commonly appeared in the department, along with demands for prescription pain meds. Most of the experienced staff could sense when they were being played, but for less experienced staff it was a constant challenge to maintain the right balance between compassion and suspicion.
Still pondering the Bad Cop label, Ethan walked to the door but his progress toward the patient was interrupted by the arrival of another patient, this time a forty-year-old man who had suffered chest pains at work and a cardiac arrest in the ambulance. As a result, it was another thirty minutes before Ethan made it to the man with the back injury, by which time the atmosphere in the room was hostile.
“Finally!” The man stank of alcohol. “I’ve been waiting ages to see someone.”
Alcohol and fear. They saw plenty of both in the emergency room. It was a toxic mix.
Ethan checked the records. “It says here that you were seen within ten minutes of arriving in the department, Mr. Rice.”
“By a nurse. That doesn’t count. And then by an intern, and he knew less than I do.”
“The nurse who saw you is experienced.”
“You’re the one in charge so it’s you I want, but you took your sweet time.”
“We had an emergency, Mr. Rice.”
“You’re saying I’m not an emergency? I was here first! What makes him more important than me?”
The fact that he’d been clinically dead on arrival?
“How can I help you, Mr. Rice?” He kept it calm, always calm, knowing that in an already tense environment a situation could escalate with supersonic speed. The one thing they didn’t need in the department was a bigger dose of tension.
“I want a fucking MRI,” the man slurred. “And I want it now, not in ten years’ time. Do it, or I’ll sue you.”
It was an all-too-familiar scenario. Patients who had looked up their symptoms on the internet and were convinced they knew not only the diagnosis but every investigation that should be performed. There was nothing worse than an amateur who thought he was an expert.
And the threats and the abuse were just two of the reasons emergency room staff had a high burnout rate. You had to learn to handle it, or it would wear you down like the ocean wore away at rocks until they crumbled.
In the crazy period between Thanksgiving and Christmas, it was only going to get worse.
Anyone who thought it was the season of goodwill, should have spent a day working with Ethan. His head was throbbing.
If he’d been one of his patients, he would have demanded a CAT scan.
“Dr. Black?” One of the residents hovered in the doorway and Ethan gave him a quick nod, indicating he’d be there as soon as he could.
As attending physician, everyone looked to him for answers. Residents, interns, ancillary staff, nurses, pharmacists, patients. He was expected to know it all.
Right now all he knew was that he wanted to get home. It had been a long, miserable shift and that didn’t seem likely to change anytime soon.
He examined the man thoroughly and explained calmly and clearly why an MRI wasn’t necessary.
That went down as well as he’d thought it would.
Some doctors ran the tests because at least then the patient left happy. Ethan refused to do that.
As he listened to a tirade describing him as inhuman, incompetent and a disgrace to the medical profession, he switched off. Switching off his emotions was the easy part for him now. Switching them back on again—well, that was more of a challenge, a fact borne out by his disastrous relationship record.
He let the abuse flow over him, but didn’t budge in his decision. He’d decided a long time before that he wasn’t going to let his decision-making be ruled by bullying or patient satisfaction scores. He did what was best for his patients, and that didn’t include subjecting them to unnecessary testing or drugs that would have no impact or, worse, a negative impact on their condition.
“Dr. Black?” Tony Roberts, one of the most senior pediatricians in the hospital, was standing in the doorway. “I need your help urgently.”
Ethan issued instructions to the resident caring for the patient and excused himself.
“What’s the problem, Tony? You have an emergency?”
“I do.” Tony looked serious. “Tell me, do you believe in Santa Claus?”
“Excuse me?” Ethan gave him an incredulous look and then laughed. “If Santa existed, he’d probably threaten me for pointing out that not only should he lose a few pounds for the good of his health, but that if he intends to ride in a horse-drawn vehicle at an altitude in excess of thirty thousand feet he should probably be wearing a safety helmet. Or at least leathers.”
“Santa in leather? Mmm, me likey,” Susan murmured as she passed on her way to speak to the triage nurse.
Tony grinned. “Just the cynical answer I expected from you, Black, which is why I’m here. I am going to give you an opportunity you never thought would come your way.”
“A year’s sabbatical in Hawaii on full pay?”
“Better. I’m going to change your life.” Tony slapped him on the shoulder and Ethan wondered if he should point out that after a shift in the ER it wouldn’t take much to knock him flat.
“If I don’t get to the next patient fast, my life will be changed. I’ll be fighting a lawsuit. Can we make this quick, Tony?”
“You know Santa visits the children’s ward every Christmas?”
“I didn’t, but I do now. That’s great. I’m sure the kids love it.” It was a world far removed from the one he inhabited.
“They do. Santa is—” Tony glanced around and lowered his voice. “Santa is actually Rob Baxter, one of the pediatricians.”
“No kidding. And I thought he was real.” Ethan signed a request that an intern thrust under his nose. “That’s the last of my illusions shattered. You have broken my heart. I might have to go home and lie down.”
“Forget it.” Susan was passing again, this time in the other direction. “No one lies down in this place. Unless they’re dead. When you’re dead, you get to lie down and only after we’ve tried to resuscitate you.”
Tony watched her go. “Is she always like this?”
“Yes. Comedy is all part of the service. Laughter cures all ills, hadn’t you heard? What did you want, Tony? I thought you said it was an emergency.”
“It is. Rob Baxter ruptured his Achilles running in Central Park. He’s going to be off his feet until after Christmas. This is close to a crisis for the pediatric department, but even more of a crisis because he is Santa and we don’t have a backup.”
“Why are you telling me this? You want me to take a look at his Achilles? Ask Viola. She’s a brilliant surgeon.”
“I don’t need a surgeon. I need a backup Santa.”
Ethan looked at him blankly. “I don’t know any Santas.”
“Santas are made, not born.” Tony lowered his voice. “We want you to be Santa this year. Will you do it?”
“Me?” Ethan wondered if he’d misheard. “I’m not a pediatrician.”
Tony leaned closer. “You may not know this, but Santa doesn’t actually have to operate or make any clinical decisions. He smiles and hands out presents.”
“Sounds like my average working day,” Ethan said, “only here they want you to hand out MRIs and prescription pain meds. Gift-wrapped Vicodin is this year’s must-have.”
“You are cynical and jaded.”
“I’m a realist, which is precisely why I’m not qualified to deal with wide-eyed children who still believe in Santa.”
“Which is exactly why you should do it. It will remind you of all the reasons you went into medicine in the first place. Your heart will melt, Dr. Scrooge.”
“He doesn’t have a heart,” Susan muttered, eavesdropping shamelessly.
Ethan glanced at her in exasperation. “Don’t you have patients to see? Lives to save?”
“Just hanging around to hear your answer, boss. If you’re going from Scrooge to Santa, I need to know about it. In fact, I want to be there to watch. I’d work Christmas just to see it.”
“You’re already working Christmas. And I’m not qualified to be Santa. Why would you think I’d agree to this?”
Tony looked at him thoughtfully. “You get to make a child’s day. It doesn’t get any better than that. Think about it. I’ll call you in a week or so. It’s an easy and rewarding job.” He strode out of the department, leaving Ethan staring after him.
“Dr. Scrooge,” Susan said. “How cute is that.”
“Not cute at all.” Surely Tony couldn’t be serious? He was the last person in the world who should play Santa with wide-eyed believing children.
He noticed one of the interns hovering. “Problems?”
“Young woman with an ankle injury. Badly swollen and bruised. I’m not sure whether to x-ray or not. Dr. Marshall is busy or I would have asked him.”
“Is she on the hunt for Vicodin?”
“I think she’s genuine.”
Because Ethan knew the young doctor didn’t have the experience to know if someone was genuine or not, he followed him through the department. Vicodin was an effective painkiller. It was also a commonly used recreational drug, and he’d ceased to be surprised at the lengths some people would go to get a prescription. He didn’t want anyone dispensing strong painkillers to someone who was simply hoping to get high from Vicodin.
His first thought when he saw her was that she was out of place among the rainbow of humanity that decorated the halls of the emergency room on a Saturday night. Her hair was long, and the color of creamy buttermilk. Her features were delicate and her mouth was a curve of glossy pink. She was wearing one shoe with a heel so high it could have doubled as a weapon. The other she held in her hand.
Her ankle was already turning blue.
How did women expect to wear heels like that and not damage themselves? That shoe was an accident waiting to happen. And although she seemed normal enough, he knew better than to let appearances dull his radar for trouble. A few years before, a student had presented with toothache, which had turned out to be a way to get pain meds. She’d overdosed a few days later and been brought into the emergency room.
Ethan had been present for her second visit, although not her first. It was a lesson he’d never forgotten.
“Miss Knight? I’m Dr. Black. Can you tell me what happened?”
It must have been a great party, he thought as he examined the ankle.
“I twisted it. I’m sorry to bother you when you’re so busy.” She sounded more than a little embarrassed, which made a change from the two patients he’d seen immediately before her, who had taken his care as their God-given right.
He wondered what she was doing here on her own on a Saturday night. She was all dressed up, so he doubted she’d spent the evening on her own.
He guessed she was mid to late twenties. Thirty possibly, although she had one of those faces that was difficult to put an age to. With makeup she could look a little older. Without, she could pass as a college student. Her eyes were blue and her gaze warm and friendly, which made a refreshing change.
Generally speaking, he didn’t see a lot of warm and friendly during his working day.
“How did you twist it?” Understanding the mechanism of the injury was one of the most helpful ways of piecing together a picture of the injury. “Dancing?”
“No. Not dancing. I wasn’t wearing shoes when I twisted it.”
He watched in fascination as her cheeks reddened.
It had been a while since he’d seen anyone blush.
“So how did you do it?” Realizing she might think he was after details for his own entertainment, he clarified. “The more details you give me, the easier it is for me to assess the injury.”
“I jumped from a window. It wasn’t far to the ground but I landed awkwardly and my ankle turned.”
She’d jumped from a window?
“You’re a bit of a risk-taker?”
She gave a wry smile. “My idea of risk is reading my Kindle in the bath so no, I don’t think I’d describe myself as a risk-taker.”
Ethan’s senses were back on alert. Instead of thinking possible addict, or potential adrenaline junkie, he was thinking possible abuse victim. “So why did you jump?” He softened his tone, trying to convey with his voice and actions that he could be trusted.
“I needed to get away from someone.” She must have seen something change in his expression because she shook her head quickly. “I can see what you’re thinking, but I wasn’t being threatened. It really was an accident.”
“Jumping from a window isn’t usually an accident.” Unless she was intoxicated, but he didn’t smell alcohol and she seemed perfectly composed. More composed than most of the people around her. The ER on a Saturday night wasn’t a pretty sight. “Why not leave by the front door?”
Her gaze slid from his. “It’s a long story.”
And one she obviously didn’t intend to share.
Ethan thought through his options. They saw plenty of domestic abuse incidents in the ER, and they had a duty to offer a place of safety and whatever support was needed. But he’d also learned that not everyone wanted to be helped. That it was a process. “Miss Knight—”
“You don’t need to worry. I was on a date, if you must know, and it wasn’t going well. My mistake.”
“You jumped to get away from your date?”
She stared at a point beyond his shoulder. “He wasn’t exactly the way his profile described him.”
“You’d never met him before?” And now he was thinking trafficking. And maybe he’d been wrong about her age and she was closer to twenty than thirty.
He checked the form and saw from her date of birth that his first guess had been the correct one. She was twenty-nine.
“I was trying online dating. It didn’t go quite the way I thought it would. Oh, this is so embarrassing.” She rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “He lied on his profile, and I didn’t even realize people did that. Which makes me stupid, I know. And naive. And yes, maybe it also makes me a risk-taker, even if I’m an unintentional risk-taker. And I’m horribly bad at it.”
He was still focused on her first words. “Lied?”
“He used a photo from thirty years ago and claimed to be all kinds of things he wasn’t.” She squared her shoulders. “I found him a little creepy. I had a bad feeling about the whole thing so I decided to make an exit where he couldn’t see me. I didn’t want him to follow me home. You don’t need to hear this, do you?” She leaned down to rub her ankle and her hair slid forward, obscuring her features.
For a moment he stared at it, that curtain of shiny gold.
He breathed in a waft of her perfume. Floral. Subtle. So subtle he wondered if what he was smelling was her shampoo.
He never became emotionally involved with his patients. These days he didn’t become emotionally involved in anything much, but for some reason he felt a spurt of anger toward the nameless guy who had lied to this woman.
“Why the window?” He dragged his gaze from her hair and focused on her ankle, examining it carefully. “Why not go out through the front door? Or even the kitchen or the rear entrance?”
“The kitchen was in sight of our table. I was worried he’d follow me. And to be honest I wasn’t thinking about much except getting away. Pathetic, I know. Is it broken?”
“It doesn’t seem to be.” Ethan straightened. The injury was real enough. Her hurt was real enough, and he suspected it extended a whole lot further than a bruised ankle. “I don’t think you need an X-ray, but if it gets worse you should come back or contact your primary care provider.”
He waited for her to argue with him about the need for an X-ray, but she simply nodded.
“Good. Thank you.”
It was such an unusual response he repeated himself to check she’d heard him correctly. “I don’t think an X-ray is necessary.”
“I understand. I probably shouldn’t have wasted your time, but I didn’t want to make it worse by doing something I shouldn’t. I’m grateful to you, and I’m relieved it isn’t broken.”
She was accepting his professional judgment just like that?
No arguing? No cursing? No questioning him or threatening to sue him?
“You can use whatever pain meds you have in your cabinet at home.”
This was the point where a large proportion of his patients demanded something only available on prescription.
Or maybe he really was turning into a cynic.
Maybe he needed a vacation.
He had one coming, the week before Christmas. A week in a luxury cabin in Vermont.
He met up every year with family and friends and this year he needed the break more than ever. He loved his job but the relentlessness and the pressure took its toll.
“I don’t need pain meds. I wanted to check it isn’t broken, that’s all. I walk a lot in my job.” She gave him a sweet smile that fused his brain.
In his time in the ER he’d dealt with panic, hysteria, abuse and shock. He was comfortable with all those emotional reactions. He even understood them.
He had no idea how to respond to a smile like hers.
She struggled to her feet and he had to stop himself from reaching out to help her.
“What’s your job?” The question had clinical relevance. Nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to know more about her.
“I run a dog-walking business. I need to be able to get around and I don’t want to make it worse.”
A dog-walking business.
He looked at the freckles that dusted her nose.
He could imagine her walking dogs. And believing in Santa.
“If dog walking is your livelihood, you might want to steer clear of stilettos in the future.”
“Yes, it was a stupid idea. A whim. I’ve been trying to do things I don’t normally do, and—” She broke off and shook her head. “You don’t need to hear this. You’re busy and I’m taking up your time. Thank you for everything.”
This one patient had thanked him more in the past five minutes than he’d been thanked in the past five weeks from all his other patients combined.
Not only that, but she hadn’t questioned his clinical judgment.
Ethan, who was never surprised by a patient, was surprised.
And intrigued.
He wanted to ask why she’d been trying to do things she wouldn’t normally do. Why she’d chosen to wear stilettos. Why she’d had dinner with a man she’d met online.
Instead he kept it professional. He talked to her about rest, ice, compression and elevation, the whole time feeling guilty that he’d doubted her.
He wondered when, exactly, he’d started being so suspicious of human nature.
He definitely needed a vacation.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_5a9533c0-d8f0-549a-b5d8-96714086733d)
“IT WAS THE worst evening of my life. I need a do-over.” Harriet eased her injured ankle onto the sofa as she talked to her sister on the phone. “And to cap it all I ended up in the emergency room, where Dr. Hot-but-Disapproving obviously decided I was a hooker.” She could still see the wary look on his face, as if he wasn’t sure whether her career choice was entirely savory.
On days when she had her arms full of slobbery dogs, she wondered that herself.
“He was hot? Tell me more.”
“Seriously? I tell you I met up with creepy stalker guy and jumped from a window into a Dumpster and the only part you want to talk about is the doctor in the emergency room?”
“If he was hot, yes. Did you ask him on a date?”
For someone who claimed not to be interested in romance, her twin thought a lot about men.
“No, I did not ask him on a date.”
“I thought you were trying to challenge yourself.”
“I have limits. Hitting on a doctor who is treating me in the emergency room is one of them.”
“You should have grabbed him and landed a smacker on his lips.”
Harriet imagined the horror on his face. “And then I would have been calling you from a cell where the NYPD locked me up overnight for assault. Wait—are you laughing?”
“Maybe. A little.” Fliss choked. “Is there footage of the whole window episode? I’d love to see it.”
“I hope there isn’t, because it’s not something I want to relive.” The painful throb of her ankle was all the reminder she needed. That and the steady hum of embarrassment that grew louder whenever she thought back to that moment in the hospital.
“I’m proud of you!”
“Why?”
“Because it’s so not you.”
“That much is true.” Harriet wiggled her ankle and wondered how long it would take for the swelling to subside. The last thing she needed in her job was any injury that inhibited her walking. “It’s the last time I take Molly’s advice on anything. She was the one who told me to try online dating.”
“It was great advice. She’s a relationship expert. She knows everything.”
Harriet thought about the three dates she’d endured recently. “Not everything.”
“She tamed our untamable brother. That proves she knows everything.”
“It’s not the best approach for someone who has a problem with strangers. I’m not at my best when I don’t know people.”
“If you can’t walk, how will you manage with the business?”
“I’m reassigning my walks for the next two days.”
“Do you need me to make some calls?”
“No, I’ve done them.”
“Dog walkers and clients?”
“All done.”
“Even Mrs. Langdon?”
Ella Langdon was the editor of a major glossy magazine and she was terrifying to deal with. Before calling her, Harriet had to give herself a talking-to.
“Even Mrs. Langdon. She used her disapproving voice but on the whole the call wasn’t a total nightmare.” And she hadn’t stuttered. Which was the most important thing. Although it hadn’t happened in a long while, she still lived in fear that it would happen when she least wanted it to. As a child her stammer had alienated her from those around her. Without her twin, she wasn’t sure how she would have survived.
“I’m impressed. It’s like talking to a whole new Harriet. And as soon as your ankle is healed you’ll be out there dating again.”
“I don’t think so. Internet dating is not for me. And why would it be? How are you supposed to find someone you like from a brief character sketch? And people present the things they want you to see. It’s all so fake.” And she hated that. What was the point? If you couldn’t be honest with another person for two hours, how did you stand a hope of making it through forty or fifty years together? Maybe she was being unrealistic expecting a relationship to last forever. Maybe she was horribly old-fashioned.
Her morale was at rock bottom. A few months ago she would have shared that fact with her sister, but now she kept it to herself. There was an ache behind her ribs. She wasn’t sure if it was indigestion or a concentration of feelings she didn’t know what to do with. “Anyway, it’s irrelevant because I won’t be going anywhere for the next few days. How are things in the Hamptons? How is Grams? Seth?”
“Things are good. Grams is busy with her friends—you know what she’s like. She has a more active social life than anyone I know. And Seth is often working, but so am I. Walking on the beach is bliss, and there is so much more business here than I ever imagined.”
And when it came to finding business, Fliss had a nose like a terrier.
“Without you the Bark Rangers wouldn’t exist.”
“Hey, I might have set the thing up but you keep it rolling. Clients love you. Dogs love you.” Fliss paused. “Are you sure you won’t spend Christmas with us? I haven’t spent Christmas without you for my whole life. I’m going to miss you so much. It’s going to be weird.”
“It will be lovely.” Now who was being fake? “You’ll be with Seth’s family.”
“But you’re invited too. I wish you would come.”
Harriet thought about spending Christmas with a bunch of people she didn’t know. Fliss would feel obliged to keep an eye on her. It would be excruciating. And anyway this, she’d decided, would be the biggest challenge of all. Christmas without her twin. It was like cutting the umbilical cord. If she could survive this, she could survive anything. It would be confidence building.
Providing she survived.
“I want to stay in the city. I love Manhattan at Christmas.” That much was true. It was her favorite time of year to be walking around the city. She lingered by store windows and watched people stagger along Fifth Avenue weighed down by bags and gifts. “They’re forecasting more snow. It will be magical. I love snow, although knowing my luck, I’ll probably slip and sprain my other ankle.”
“You might see Dr. Hot again.”
“And if that happened he’d probably be thinking why can’t this woman learn to walk.”
She’d thought about him a lot since that night. He’d had the most intense blue eyes. Tired blue eyes. She couldn’t begin to imagine how much stamina it took to do his job, to deal with the heaving mass of people in the waiting room and the life-and-death emergencies that were brought in with a fanfare of discordant sirens and flashing lights.
While sitting in the waiting room, she’d had plenty of time to watch him in action.
She’d noticed other staff stopping him to ask him questions, but she’d also noticed that he’d taken the time to talk to an old lady who had appeared lost and confused.
It had seemed to her in that brief moment of watching that he was everything to everybody.
The last thing he needed was a second visit from her.
By the time she ended the call with her sister it was dark outside.
The apartment felt emptier and quieter than ever.
“Christmas never used to be my best time of year when I was growing up.” She tipped food into the bowl for Teddy, the dachshund she was fostering for the local animal shelter. She loved dachshunds. They were lively and playful and unusually devoted. She adored Teddy’s affectionate nature, his silliness and the way he burrowed under her bedcovers. She even loved the way he stubbornly refused to go outdoors when it was raining. “You know how some people love it? It’s their favorite holiday and they can’t wait for it to come around. They start decorating right after Thanksgiving and they love everything that goes with it. That’s not me. Growing up, I always dreaded it. Do you have any idea what school is like for people who can’t sing or talk fluently? Nightmare. Instead of daily humiliation among the small group of people I mixed with, I had giant public humiliation. Worst of all was the year I had to sing ‘Silent Night’ as a solo. It should have been renamed Stammering Night.”
Teddy put his ears forward and tilted his head, sympathizing.
The great thing about dogs, Harriet thought, was that they always sympathized. It didn’t matter what the problem was. Teddy might not understand the words, but Harriet knew he understood the sentiment. She’d often wondered how it was that dogs could be so much more sensitive than humans.
“It wasn’t everyone. Mostly it was Johnny Hill. He was captain of the football team and he made my life hell.”
Teddy thrust his nose into her palm and gave her a comforting lick.
“Fliss punched him. She had to have eight stitches in her head and she was suspended for a while. She was always protecting me. Which was great, but I guess it stopped me learning to do it for myself.”
Teddy whined.
“Tomorrow you’ll be going to your forever home.” She stroked his silky fur, telling herself it was for the best. For Teddy, at least. “And that’s fine. I’m good with that, I really am. I just want what’s best for you and this is definitely what’s best for you.”
Teddy put his head in her lap, looking sorrowful. She could almost convince herself he understood every word she was saying.
“You’re going to be the perfect Christmas gift for them. The family has a weekend home upstate with forty-two acres. Imagine what you can do with that after living here with me. You won’t have to pee on the same tree twice. You’ll be able to dig, and we both know how much you love digging. And I’m going to be fine. After a day or two, I won’t even notice you’re not here.”
She was even lying to the dog now.
What was wrong with her?
Teddy looked at her and she dropped to her knees, wincing as pain shot through her ankle.
“Give me a hug, you lovely thing.”
Teddy launched himself at her chest and she cuddled him, comforted by the warmth of his body. The people adopting Teddy were one lucky family.
“The doctor said I need to ice my ankle. Fancy watching some TV on the sofa? How about Gilmore Girls?”
Teddy wagged his tail.
One day, Harriet thought as she limped to the sofa with him in her arms, she was going to snuggle on the sofa with someone who didn’t have four legs and a wagging tail. Someone as caring and sympathetic as a dog, but with more physical appeal.
Maybe even a gorgeous doctor with blue eyes.
She rolled her eyes. Why did she keep thinking about him? He’d had physical appeal, that was undeniable. But there had been something remote and inaccessible about him, as if he’d drawn a barrier between himself and his patients.
Hot he might be, but he wasn’t her type at all.
A FEW DAYS later Ethan was woken by his phone.
He reached out to grab it and knocked it on the floor.
Emitting curses learned from years in the ER, he retrieved it from under the table and answered it.
“Black.”
“Ethan?”
“Debra?” Recognizing his sister’s voice, he tried to force himself awake. “Everything all right?”
“No.” Her voice sounded thickened. “There’s been an accident.”
“Who? Where?” He sat up, still in that state of disorientation that followed being woken from deep sleep.
“It’s Karen. She’s been hit by a car.”
“What?” Ethan stood up, fully awake now. He was used to delivering bad news. Less accustomed to receiving it. His niece, Karen, was in her first year of college in California and had been having a great time. He adored her, probably because he’d long since accepted that he was unlikely to have children of his own. His sister was ten years older and the birth of her daughter, Karen, when he was sixteen years old had been a highlight. In some ways he was more like an older brother to her than an uncle. “What’s her condition? Do you want me to call the hospital and talk to the medical team?”
“I’ve already spoken with them. They’re discharging soon but she won’t be able to put weight on her leg for a couple of weeks. Mark is still in the Far East. He’ll fly straight to San Francisco but it will take him a long time to get there. I need to leave today. I’ve booked a flight for this afternoon.”
Ethan glanced at the time. “I’ll come with you.”
“You can’t do that. You’ll be working.”
It was true. “Family is more important. I’m coming. I’ll make it work.” He tried not to think about the colleagues he’d be letting down or the research work that was waiting for him. If his sister needed him, she needed him. As far as he was concerned, that was the end of it.
“I can do this on my own, but you have no idea what it means to me that you offered.”
“Debra—”
“No. I mean it. I can do this.”
“If you don’t want me to come with you, what can I do? There has to be something.”
There was a pause. “Is that a genuine offer?”
“Of course.” Ethan checked the time and decided it wasn’t worth going back to sleep again. “What do you need?”
“I need you to take Madi for a few days. Maybe more than a few days. It could be a week or more before we’re home.”
“Madi?” It took Ethan a moment to work out who she was talking about. His sister only had one child. “You mean the dog?”
“I suppose Madi is a dog, although we think of her more as one of the family. She has remarkably human characteristics.”
“You want me to look after the dog?” Ethan jammed his fingers into his hair. “No. Just—no, Debs.”
“You said you’d help. You said ‘anything.’”
“Anything but that!”
“You were willing to fly to California, but you won’t take my dog?! This is so much easier.”
“Not for me. I’m out of this apartment twenty hours out of twenty-four.”
“All the more reason to have Madi for a week or two. She will give you something to come home to.”
Ethan had a strong suspicion she’d give him a few things to come home to, none of which would be welcome.
“There’s a reason I don’t own a dog, Deb. And that reason is that I’m not in a position to give an animal the care and attention it deserves.”
“This is an emergency. I wouldn’t be asking otherwise. I don’t know how long I’ll be on the West Coast. Karen needs me—” her voice wobbled “—please, Ethan. I promise Madi will be no trouble at all.”
It was the wobble in her voice that did it.
He couldn’t remember ever seeing his big sister cry. Not even when he’d put a frog in her backpack when she was twelve.
He felt himself weaken. Dammit. “Why can’t you put it in doggy day care? Or overnight care—a dog hotel—whatever it is people do with their pets.”
What did people do with their pets? It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about.
“We tried that for a night when Mark won that award and had to go to Chicago. We made a weekend of it and put her in overnight boarding, but Madi almost scratched her fur out she was so stressed. Now we make a point of going places where we can take her with us. She’d be so much happier with human company.”
Not if the human was him. “I’m not great company after a day in the ER. I think I have what they call compassion fatigue.”
“She doesn’t need compassion. All she needs is food, walks and occasional company. I want to keep her routine as close to normal as possible so I’m going to continue with the dog walker while I’m away.”
“Dog walker?”
“I use a company called the Bark Rangers. They cover the whole of the East Side of Manhattan so they won’t have any problems coming to your apartment instead of mine. Easy. And she’s a lovely girl.”
“Who is a lovely girl?”
“Harriet. My dog walker. Actually I don’t suppose girl is the right word. She must be late twenties.”
He didn’t care how old she was. “So she walks the dog for one hour a day—”
“Two. She’ll come twice.”
“Two hours a day. What happens to the dog for the other twenty-two hours?”
“Will you stop calling her ‘the dog’? You’re going to hurt her feelings.”
“Yet another reason not to leave her with your cold unfeeling brother. If she’s that sensitive, you don’t want to leave her with someone as insensitive as me.”
“You’re a doctor. You’re not insensitive.”
“I have it on expert authority that I’m insensitive.”
“If this is about your ex-wife—”
“Her name is Alison, we are on excellent terms and her comment was entirely justified. I am insensitive. And I know nothing about dogs.”
“It’s not complicated, Ethan. You feed them, you walk them. If you could bring yourself to talk to her, she’d probably appreciate that too.”
“And what’s she going to do the rest of the time?”
“She will happily sleep in her crate.”
Ethan glanced round his apartment. Nothing had been moved since the cleaning service had been there two days previously. Mostly because he hadn’t been here, either. One way to ensure you didn’t make a mess of your home was to never be in it. “Are you sure that’s what she’ll do?”
“Yes. And if you do this it will stop Karen worrying. Madi is her dog.” His sister, sensing weakness, pounced. “The whole family thanks you.”
Ethan knew he was beaten. And truthfully he was too worried about his niece to dwell on the practicalities of caring for a dog. “Call me with an update as soon as you get there. And if you’re not happy with what they’ve told her at the hospital let me know and I’ll make some calls. I know a few people around there.”
“You know everyone.”
“We meet at medical conferences. It’s a surprisingly small world. What time will you be dropping off this dog?”
“On my way to the airport. I’ll walk her before I leave her with you, and we need to arrange for Harriet to meet you later. When works for you?”
None of it worked for him.
“Tonight? I’ll try and get away early.”
“Good. I’ll give her my key to your apartment in case you’re late, then she can go ahead and walk Madi. Practice saying her name, Ethan. Madi. Not ‘the dog.’ Madi.”
“I need to go. I have two hours to dogproof—sorry, I mean Madi-proof—my home.”
“You won’t need to. She’s very civilized.”
“She’s a dog.”
“You’re going to love her.”
Ethan doubted it. Life, he knew, was rarely that simple.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_1b5b3678-d0b2-5157-8cdc-eb5c370430cc)
“MRS. SULLIVAN?” HARRIET paused in the doorway of the apartment, the key in her hand, an array of bags at her feet. Her ankle throbbed, but not as much as it had a few days earlier. Hopefully that was a good sign. “It’s me! Harriet. Are you there? You didn’t answer the door and I didn’t want to make you jump.”
“Harriet?” Glenys Sullivan appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, holding tightly to a walker. “Harvey and I were worried about you, sweetheart. You’re late.”
“I’m moving a little slower today.” Harriet closed the door. She was worried about Glenys too. She’d lost weight since her husband had died ten months earlier and Harriet knew she was struggling. As a result she’d taken to dropping in whenever she was passing. And if sometimes “passing” meant taking a detour, that was fine with her. She didn’t often see her clients once the dog-walking arrangements were confirmed, so she enjoyed the interaction. “I took a bit of a tumble a few days ago and I’ve been off my feet. Silly me.”
Glenys had lived in the same sunny apartment on the Upper East Side for almost five decades, surrounded by her books, her furniture and her collection of china dogs.
“You fell? Is it icy out there?”
“Not yet, but it’s coming. They’re forecasting snow and my fingers are freezing. I need to find my gloves.” Harriet carried the bags through to the kitchen, ignoring the pain in her ankle. She’d rested it for a couple of days, icing it as the doctor had instructed. It still hurt but she was tired of being trapped in her apartment and she’d wanted to check on Glenys. “I didn’t want you to find yourself with an empty fridge. It’s crazy out there. People are clearing the shelves and we’ve had around four snowflakes so far.” She bent to make a fuss over Harvey, an eight-year-old West Highland terrier she’d been walking for two years. Often she handed walks to their reliable team of dog walkers, but there were a few she did herself and Harvey was one of them. He was sweet-tempered and smart. Harriet adored him.
“I remember the storm of 2006, we had twenty-eight inches of snow, but even that wasn’t as bad as the blizzard of 1888.”
Harriet straightened. “You weren’t alive in 1888, Glenys.”
“My great-grandmother used to talk about it. The railroads were blocked by drifts. Some of the commuters were trapped for days. You could walk across the East River from Brooklyn to Manhattan. Can you imagine that?”
“No. Hopefully it’s not going to be that bad this time, but if it is you’re not going to starve.” Harriet pushed the last of the canned food into the cupboard. “Did you eat lunch today?”
“I ate a big lunch.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“No, but I don’t want to worry you. Truth is, I wasn’t hungry.”
Harriet made a tutting sound. “You need to eat, Glenys. You have to keep your strength up.”
“What do I need strength for? I never leave this apartment. My bones aren’t fit for much.”
“Did you get to the doctor? Did you tell him your pain is worse?” She unloaded the bags into the fridge, automatically checking the dates on the few items already in there. She ditched a cheese covered in mold and some tomatoes that looked as if they were about to turn themselves into puree.
“He said the pain is worse because my arthritis is worse. He also said I need to keep moving. Which makes no sense. How am I supposed to keep moving if my arthritis is worse? They don’t know anything, these doctors.”
Harriet thought about the doctor she’d seen in the emergency room and the way other people had deferred to him.
He’d known plenty.
Dr. E. Black.
She wondered what the E stood for. Edward? Elliot?
She grabbed a carton of eggs and some fresh cheese and closed the fridge door. “If your doctor thinks you need to move, then you need to move.”
Evan? Earl?
“Easier said than done. I’m afraid my legs might give out on me. If that happened, I’d drop on the sidewalk and everyone would just step over me.”
“So you need to walk with someone you know. Like me. It would give you a little confidence to have someone to grab if you needed to.”
“You’re here to walk my dog. Not me. You’re a dog walker, not a human walker.”
“I walk some humans. Exceptional humans, like you. We can take Harvey together.” Harriet broke three eggs into a bowl and whisked them together with fresh herbs she’d grown on her windowsill. “He’d love the attention. Can you imagine him out walking with two women? What a boost to his self-esteem.”
“His self-esteem doesn’t need a boost. He already thinks he’s king. What are you doing?”
“I’m making you a delicious omelet. I’m not taking you walking unless you have food in your tummy.” Harriet tipped the eggs into a skillet and turned up the heat. “I’m adding a little cheese and spinach. Good for your bones.”
“My bones are beyond help. I don’t think I can walk today, honey.”
“Just a short walk,” Harriet coaxed. “A few steps. One block.”
Glenys sighed. “You’re a bully.”
“I know.” Harriet punched the air with her fist and Glenys laughed.
“You shouldn’t be wasting your time with a decrepit old lady.”
“I love your company and I love to cook. Since Fliss moved out, I only have myself to cook for and it’s boring.” Harriet tipped a perfect omelet onto a plate and added a chunk of crusty bread. “Now sit down and eat.”
“I hate eating alone.”
“You’re not eating alone.” Harriet cut a slice of bread for herself and tried not to think what it would do to her thighs. It wasn’t as if anyone but her was going to see her thighs. Suppressing that depressing thought, she reached for the butter. “I’m eating too.”
“So did you take your ankle to the doctor?”
“I went to the ER. And wasted their time as it turned out, because it wasn’t broken.” She took a bite of bread and made a mental note to bake some chocolate chip cookies for her next visit. Everyone loved her chocolate chip cookies. The original recipe had been her grandmother’s but Harriet had made a few small adjustments over time. It was as close as she had ever come to rebellion.
No I will not use one spoonful of vanilla. I’m using two, so take that.
Pitiful.
Glenys poked at her eggs. “That’s not a waste of anyone’s time. What if it had been broken?”
“My life would have been made difficult.” She thought of the array of people in the waiting room. It had been horribly crowded and it wasn’t even snowy yet. “I’m guessing that department gets super busy in the winter so I’m going to watch where I tread.”
“Tell me more about the sexy doctor in the emergency room who looked at your ankle.”
“I never said he was sexy.”
“Doctors are always sexy. Doesn’t matter how they look, just being a doctor makes them sexy. Was he dark or blond?”
“Eat your eggs and I’ll tell you.” She waited while Glenys ate a forkful. “Dark. Black hair, blue eyes.”
“The best combination. My Charlie had blue eyes. It was the first thing I noticed about him.”
“It was the first thing I noticed too.” That and the fact that his eyes had been tired. Not tired from lack of sleep, more tired from life.
Maybe that was what working in the ER did for you. It had to take a toll. It would have drained her, dealing with so many people in trouble. Handling all that pain and anxiety.
“Maybe it’s a sign.” Glenys took another small mouthful of omelet. “The start of a perfect relationship. Maybe you’ll be together forever.”
Harriet laughed. “Unless I break the other ankle, I won’t be seeing him again. And maybe he was sexy, but he didn’t smile enough for me. He was a little intimidating if I’m honest.”
“That’s probably the way he handles the job. They deal with such a range of problems in the emergency room. I know because my Darren used to be an EMT and the stories he told would make your toes curl.”
Darren was Glenys’s oldest son. He lived in California and Glenys hadn’t seen him since the funeral.
Harriet often wondered how it was that families came to be so scattered. It felt wrong to her. She longed to belong to a big family who lived close enough to be in and out of each other’s lives all the time. Drop in for coffee? Yes, please. Find yourself cooking dinner for twelve? Harriet couldn’t think of anything better. This Christmas Fliss would be spending Christmas Day with Seth’s family in their home in upstate New York, her brother Daniel was traveling with Molly to see her father for the first time in ages and their mother was traveling the world. Harriet was the only one not traveling anywhere.
She’d be in Manhattan. On her own. Perusing the glittering store windows. On her own. Ice-skating. On her own. Eating Christmas dinner. On her own.
She watched as Glenys forced down another mouthful of omelet. “What are you doing for Christmas Day?”
“Staying in and waiting for Santa.”
Harriet grinned. “Do you want to come and wait for him in my apartment? I’m a good cook.”
“Well, I know that.” Glenys took another mouthful of omelet. “Are you inviting the handsome doctor?”
“No, I’m definitely not inviting the handsome doctor. Judging from the questions he asked me, he thought I was either a hooker or an addict.” And she didn’t blame him for that. It hadn’t been her best evening and her two hours spent in the waiting room of the emergency room hadn’t enhanced it.
“They get a lot of those in the emergency room too. I bet you were a breath of fresh air. Show me your ankle.”
“I can’t. It’s buried under four layers of wool because it’s cold out there.”
“But he was attractive?”
Harriet sighed. “Yes, he was attractive and yes part of me wonders why I can’t meet someone like him in real life.”
“The ER is about as real as it gets.”
“You know what I mean. In a situation that could actually end in a date. Not that it would work out because if it ever happened I’d be too shy to open my mouth. I can’t get past that first awkward meeting stage.”
“You say plenty to me.”
“But I’ve known you for years. I feel relaxed with you. Most men aren’t willing to stick around for that long while I get comfortable enough to actually engage in conversation.” She put her fork down. “I need to find a way to skip the ‘getting to know you’ part.”
“That’s why so many of the best marriages happen between friends. People who have known each other forever. Friends to lovers. It’s my favorite theme in books and movies.”
“It sounds like a great theory, but unfortunately I don’t have any male friends I’ve known for thirty years who might be willing to marry me.”
“Didn’t your brother have any friends?”
“They always hit on my sister. I was the quiet one.”
“Oh, honey, quiet can be good. Quiet doesn’t mean you don’t have important things to say. Just that you might take your time saying them.”
“Maybe. But most people don’t wait around long enough to hear it.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’ve never had boyfriends?”
“I’ve had a few. Couple of boys in college. Uneventful and definitely not exciting. Then I dated the accountant who moved into the apartment above ours.”
“And how was that?”
“He seemed interested in every figure but mine,” Harriet said gloomily. “And since then—do you count the guy at Molly’s Salsa dancing class she tried to set me up with?”
“I don’t know. Do you think he counts?”
“We danced twice. I enjoyed it because dancing meant I didn’t have to talk to him. I did warn you that my dating history isn’t impressive.” She watched as Glenys ate the omelet, each mouthful slower than the last. She knew that since Charlie died Glenys had to force herself to eat. Force herself to get up in the morning. Force herself to get dressed. “Do you have a warm coat and gloves? I’m going to take Harvey out for a short walk, and you’re coming with me. No arguments.”
“You’re supposed to walk my dog, not care for me.”
“You’d be doing me a favor. It’s easy to talk to you, and I could use the company.”
“Harriet Knight, you’re such a sweet girl.”
Harriet winced. “I don’t want to be a sweet girl. I want to be a badass.”
Glenys laughed. “That word sounds plain wrong coming from your lips.”
“What do you mean? I said the F word last Saturday. When I landed in a heap and bust my ankle—I said it. Out loud, in public. They probably heard me in Washington Square.”
“Shocking, but it’s not enough.” Glenys gave a placid smile and put her fork down. “Now, if you’d grabbed that sexy doctor and planted one on him, that might have improved your badass credentials.”
“Fliss said the same thing. Are you two colluding? I’ll say what I said to her—he would have had me arrested for assault.” As it was, he’d seemed surprised at some of the things she’d said. As if he’d been expecting something different.
She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to work in a department like that. In the short time she’d spent in the waiting room, she’d heard people yelling abuse and several of them had been drunk. It had made her feel more than a little uncomfortable. How must it feel to handle that day after day? That was one of the things she loved most about working with dogs. They were always so thrilled to see you. There was nothing better than a wagging tail to lift the spirits, nothing more motivational than an excited bark. Dr. E. Black didn’t have that when he went to work. She suspected there was a distinct shortage of wagging tails in his life.
She watched as Glenys finished the omelet, policing every mouthful. Then she got Harvey ready for his walk. She maneuvered him into his little red coat, attached his leash and helped Glenys find her coat and her gloves.
It was true that if she’d taken the dog on her own the walk would have been finished in half the time, but that wasn’t what life was about for Harriet.
Glenys needed to maintain her independence and no one else was going to help her.
They walked slowly down the street, admiring the decorations in the store windows.
“I love this time of year.” Harriet slid her arm through Glenys’s. “It’s so buzzy and exciting.”
Glenys was concentrating on where she put her feet. “At my age, it’s just another day.”
“What? No, you can’t think that way. I won’t let you. I hope you’ve written to Santa.”
“Does he deliver new hips or new husbands?”
“Maybe. If you don’t write, you’ll never know.”
“Maybe I should try online dating.”
“It didn’t work for me, but no reason why it shouldn’t work for you. Go for it, but don’t ask me for help with your profile. I’m too honest. You need to present yourself as a twenty-year-old pole dancer.”
Glenys tightened her grip on Harriet’s arm. “Next time, I’m writing your profile. No more nice girl Harriet. How are your adventures going? What was today’s challenge?”
She’d told Glenys about her determination to stretch herself.
“I called someone who is always rude to me.” She was careful not to mention any names. “Normally Fliss does it.”
“If she’s rude, why do you keep her as a client?”
“I never said she was a client.”
“Honey, life is too short to hang on to friends who are rude to you so it has to be a client.”
“She has two dogs and a huge network of wealthy friends. Fliss says we can’t afford to lose her.” Although if it had been left to Harriet she would have done exactly that months ago. Life was too short to have rude clients too.
“So you let her say bad things to you?”
“It’s not that she says bad things, exactly. It’s more that she’s one of those people who thinks no one can possibly understand how busy and appalling her life is. So she is infuriated when I talk slowly. But I’m afraid of speeding up in case I stammer.” Harriet paused as they passed a side street. “She makes me feel small. Not small as in slim and attractive. Small as in less. She makes me feel incompetent, even though I know I’m not. She reminds me of Mrs. Dancer, my fourth grade teacher.”
“I’m assuming that’s not a good thing.”
“I wasn’t the type to talk much in class, so she used to single me out. Harriet Knight—” she imitated Mrs. Dancer’s sarcasm “—I presume you do have a voice? We’d all love to hear it.”
“I don’t see why not talking all the time should be a disadvantage in life.”
But Harriet wasn’t listening. She was looking at the man huddled against the wall next to a Dumpster. She looked at his shoulders, hunched against the wind, and at the defeated look on his face. “Billy?” She checked that Glenys was steady on her feet, and hurried across to him. “I thought I recognized you. What are you doing here?” She crouched down and put her hand on his arm.
“Trying to stay warm.”
“It is a cold one. Tonight is going to be worse. Can you go to the shelter? Anywhere?” She dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out a couple of granola bars. “Can I get you a hot chocolate? Tea?” She talked to him for a while, fetched him tea from the food cart nearby.
When she finally returned to Glenys, her friend was frowning.
“Didn’t your mama teach you not to talk to strangers?”
“Billy isn’t a stranger. I see him every time I walk Harvey. He used to be a university professor, then he had an accident and became addicted to painkillers.” Was that why the doctor in the ER had made a point of telling her he wouldn’t write her a prescription? Presumably he knew how easy it was for pain management to turn to addiction. “He lost his job, couldn’t pay medical bills.”
“How do you know all that?”
“We started talking one day in the summer when I was walking Valentine, Molly’s Dalmatian.”
“So you can’t talk to a guy you’re dating, but you can talk to a stranger on the street?”
“He wasn’t exactly a stranger. I have been walking past him every night for eight months. We always said hello. He was so polite. Then we started saying more than hello. I got to know him a little. Do you know that sometimes, when it’s freezing cold, he rides the train all night, from the Bronx to Brooklyn? How sad is that.” It depressed her that people had to do that to stay warm in New York’s freezing winter. To stay alive. “Anyone can end up homeless.”
“You must have talked to him for a long time to know so much.”
“I did. He was lonely.” She paused. “And I guess I was a little lonely too. I was getting used to being in the apartment without Fliss.”
Glenys patted her on the arm. “You miss her. I understand. I miss my Charlie. It’s the little things, isn’t it? Charlie always used to make the coffee in the morning. Now I do it and I can never get it quite right. And he fixed anything that went wrong in the apartment. He was handy like that.”
Harriet realized she had to stop moaning.
Glenys had suffered a serious loss. She hadn’t lost Fliss. Her sister was still in her life.
“I do miss her, but it was always going to happen one day. The alternative would have been living together until we were ninety, sharing false teeth, and that wouldn’t have been great, either. Since Fliss moved out, I don’t have anyone to cook for.” She didn’t confess that some days she made huge batches of her chocolate chip cookies, or her granola bars, and distributed them to anyone who was interested. And she knew, with brutal honesty, that she was doing it as much for her as for them. She needed to feel needed, and since Fliss had moved out and Daniel had become involved with Molly, she rarely felt needed. She missed having someone to fuss over, to cook for and nurture. There were few people she felt able to admit that to, but Glenys was one of them. “I’m not ambitious in the way Fliss is. I mean, I love our business, but what I love about it is the lifestyle. The dogs. Being outdoors. Doing something I love. Fliss likes the success of it, the growth, the bottom line. We’re different like that.”
“You’re different in lots of ways. Fliss is always in a hurry. She never has time to chat the way you do.”
Harriet sprang to the defense of her sister. “Because she’s building the business. We have the Bark Rangers because of her.”
Glenys stopped walking and Harriet looked at her in alarm. “What’s wrong? Is your hip hurting?”
“No. Right now it’s my heart that’s hurting, and you’re the one hurting it. Your problem is that you don’t see your own qualities.” Glenys waggled her finger. “The Bark Rangers is as much about you as it is about your sister.”
Fliss had said the same thing.
“It was her idea. She’s the one who handles all the new business.”
“But why do you think people come to you for dog walking? Because of you.” Glenys patted her arm. “Because everyone in Manhattan with a brain and a dog knows that Harriet Knight is the person they want. Customer service. Individual attention. Caring. That’s what it’s about. That’s why the Bark Rangers is a success. You are to dog walking what Tiffany’s is to jewelers. You are diamond and white gold. The best.”
Harriet was touched and ridiculously flattered. “What do you know about Tiffany’s?”
“I was young once. I used to stand outside that store dreaming, like so many women before me. And then Charlie made my dreams come true. And he didn’t do it by walking into Tiffany’s and spending all his money. Love isn’t a diamond. You can’t buy what we had, and that’s what you want too. Love. Nothing wrong with that, honey. You show me the person who doesn’t want love in their life, and I’ll show you a liar.” Glenys started walking again, Harvey trotting by her side.
“What makes you so wise?”
“Age and experience.”
After two blocks Harriet insisted they turn round, afraid that Glenys might overdo it.
“It’s enough for one day. I don’t want to tire you out, and I have another dog to walk before I go home.”
“Are you sure you should be doing this much walking?”
“I’m doing a favor for a client who has had a family emergency. She has left Madi, her dog, with her brother and I promised to walk him. This was fun. We’ll do it again tomorrow.”
“If my joints haven’t seized up. So what are you doing for the holidays, pumpkin? Have you decided?”
Harriet kept her eyes straight ahead. “You’re coming. I’m already planning the menu.”
Glenys gave her a keen look. “You’re not staying with Fliss?”
“She’s invited me, but I don’t know Seth’s family and it’s their first Christmas all together and I know Fliss is a little nervous—”
“All the more reason to have you there.”
“No.” Harriet shook her head. “She doesn’t need her twin, she needs Seth. She has a new family now.”
“You don’t throw out your old family just because you have a new one. You blend them together, like that cookie mixture you’re so good at.”
“For some things, yes, but not always and at Christmas it feels like an intrusion. And it will be good for me to spend Christmas without my family. I’m way too dependent on them. I’ll probably watch back-to-back Christmas movies and gorge myself on unhealthy food. I’m hoping you’ll join me.”
“What about your grandmother? Can’t you stay with her?”
“I’m staying right here. I’ll still be walking dogs if people need me. Providing the snow isn’t too bad.” She glanced up at the sky. “Do you think they’ll be right this time? Will it be a big fall?”
“Maybe. It’s the holidays, Harriet. At your age you should be out partying.”
“I can hurt my ankle when I’m not partying. Imagine the damage I could do if I started partying. Never been much of a party person, Glenys. You’re talking to the woman who can’t even walk confidently in high heels.”
“I worry about you coming out here alone at night. It isn’t safe.”
“That’s good. I’m trying to be less safe. Stepping out of my comfort zone. Is Darren coming to see you at all over the holidays?”
“Not this year. He’s going to visit Karen’s parents in Arizona. They’ll probably cook the turkey by leaving it out in the sun for half an hour.” They’d reached Glenys’s apartment block and the doorman smiled and held the door open.
“Please come to me.” Harriet gave her a quick hug. “It will be so much fun. Bring Harvey.”
“You’re a kind girl, Harriet Knight, but you don’t want to spend your holidays with a creaky old bird like me.”
“I do. And if you can’t come to me, I’ll bring the turkey to you. One creaky old bird to another.”
“You’re a soft touch.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I know—” Glenys nudged her “—we could both slip on the ice and spend Christmas Day in the emergency room with that sexy doctor of yours. It’s warm, and we’d have plenty of good company.”
“He’s not my sexy doctor, and I don’t think he’d be amused to see me twice in the same month.”
But if Santa wanted to drop a man like him down her chimney, that really would make for a perfect Christmas.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_2325ad39-3d49-50f7-a023-6b7d1ff452c9)
THE SNOW CONTINUED to fall.
In the emergency room, Ethan was busier than ever.
Before he’d left for work, his sister had arrived at his apartment with Madi. He’d been surprised by how calm and well behaved the dog was. Over Thanksgiving her behavior had been close to manic but his sister assured him she’d been overexcited because of the number of people in the house.
It was certainly true that today she seemed like a different dog.
If she carried on like this, they just might make it through.
“So the dog walker—”
“Her name is Harriet, Ethan. Why are you so bad with names?”
“Because people move through my department so quickly I don’t need to remember them. I don’t care about their names or their ambitions. I fix them. That’s it. So Harriet—” Harriet, Harriet, he repeated to himself “—will be coming twice a day? What about snow? Is that going to keep her away?”
“She has never let me down in two years. She’ll be here. I stopped by her apartment on the way here and gave her your key.”
“You gave my key to a stranger. Thanks.”
“She’s not a stranger. She’s a lifesaver—yours. Make sure you’re home to meet her later.”
Satisfied that Madi’s needs were going to be met by someone, if not by him, Ethan focused on his work.
His first patient was a forty-five-year-old male who had suffered chest pains while shoveling snow.
The first responders at the scene had already transmitted the twelve-lead EKG. Someone showed it to Ethan and he instructed them to page the on-call interventional cardiologist.
Moments later the man arrived in the department.
“I was clearing the snow from the steps and I started to feel funny,” he told Ethan. “My chest was kind of tight, like someone was squeezing it. And I thought I was being a wimp, so I carried on. But then my wife appears at the top of the steps and she says, ‘Mike, you’re whiter than the damn snow.’ She called 911.”
“Good decision. I’ve already checked the EKG the first responders sent through and it shows that you’re having a heart attack.” Ethan saw the fear in the man’s eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in good hands, Michael. We’re going to take good care of you and I’ve called the cardiologists.” He turned to the team. “Can we get a repeat EKG? We need two large-bore IVs and let’s get him on a nitro drip. We need to prepare him for the cath lab.” He turned back to his patient, explained what was happening and questioned him carefully.
“I can’t believe it’s my heart. I feel pathetic. It was just a bit of snow. How the hell can this happen?”
“You’re underestimating the physical demands of shoveling snow, especially heavy snow like the storm we had last night.” Ethan slotted his stethoscope into his ears and listened to the man’s chest. “It can be as demanding as a sprint, except that clearing snow usually lasts longer. Maybe a better comparison would be a heavy session on the treadmill. And the combination of cold and physical exertion increases the load on your heart. You probably had a spike in your blood pressure. At least you had the good sense to stop and call 911. We see plenty of folks who keep going, who think they’re being weak and don’t stop. You stopped. That was smart.”
“You’re sure it’s a heart attack?”
Ethan showed him the EKG. “This shows that you’re having what we call a STEMI. That stands for an ST Elevation Myocardial Infarction. We’re going to keep you attached to a heart monitor for now and send you for an angiogram.”
They prepared him for transfer to the cardiac catheterization lab, placing a portable monitor and oxygen tank on the bed.
One of the less experienced interns looked stunned. “Shoveling snow? If he’d been a walk-in I would have assumed he’d pulled a muscle.”
“If someone comes in with chest pains after they’ve been shoveling snow, assume it’s a heart attack. He needs PCI in the cardiac catheterization lab. We aim for a door-to-balloon time of ninety minutes or less.”
“Ethan? Could you take a look at this?” The triage nurse called him over and Ethan moved on to the next patient.
It was a busy day. His mind was taken up by the demands of his job. His patients.
He didn’t give his sister or her dog a single thought.
HARRIET TUGGED HER wool hat further over her ears and checked the address twice. Normally she picked Madi up from Debra’s house, but her client was flying to the West Coast for a couple of weeks to deal with a family emergency and had left Madi with her brother. He lived in the West Village, which was technically out of the area the Bark Rangers covered, but Harriet told herself this was an exception. She went where her clients went, and if Madi was staying in the west side of lower Manhattan then that was where Harriet would go. It would require some redesigning of her schedule because she wouldn’t be able to handle the walks on the Upper East Side, but they had enough dog walkers in that area to ensure that she should be able to accommodate this latest change of plan.
The temperature had plummeted and an icy wind bit through her clothing. The promised snow had finally started falling.
Harriet was wearing her weatherproof coat and her weatherproof trousers, but still she was shivering.
Debra wanted Harriet to walk Madi twice a day, every day.
“My brother is wonderful and I adore him, but he has no clue about dogs. I’ve promised him you will walk Madi and do whatever is needed. He’s a doctor. Busy. I don’t want Madi to be a bother.”
Knowing Madi as well as she did, Harriet didn’t hold out much hope in that direction.
It wasn’t that Madi was a bother exactly, more that she was acting in a way representative of the breed. Madi was a spaniel, a working dog, intelligent and inquisitive. Harriet adored her, but she hadn’t found her particularly adaptable. She wasn’t convinced she would respond to a change of environment as smoothly as Debra was anticipating.
It was probably a good thing Debra’s brother was a doctor. Presumably he’d be patient and caring and adept at handling difficult situations.
Someone patient and kind was exactly what Madi needed to help her settle into her new home.
She checked the address again. This part of Manhattan was a maze of winding streets. There were bookstores and bistros, bars and coffee houses. It was an area rich in history, with cobblestone streets lined with brownstones and beautiful town houses. It was also an easy place to get lost.
According to Debra, her brother lived in a two-bedroom, two-bathroom duplex loft apartment.
By the time Harriet found the apartment block, the light was fading and the tips of her fingers were numb.
She planned to take Madi for a half-hour walk, although she wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. Not only was her ankle throbbing, but it was never great for the dogs when it had been snowing. The streets were mucky and winter was always hard on the dogs’ paws. She constantly thought about the dogs, about their welfare and what she could do to make their lives the best they could be.
Fliss said it was the reason they had a thriving client base, but Harriet never thought about that side of it. She didn’t do it for the owners, she did it for the animals. Their comfort and happiness was what mattered to her and if that led to a happy owner, then that was a bonus.
Snow or no snow, Madi needed the exercise. Debra had given her the key, and the moment she opened the door to the apartment she knew something was wrong.
She’d fostered enough pets to sense disaster when it was close by.
She had no idea what the apartment looked like normally, but she guessed it was nothing like this.
Cushions lay scattered on the floor, their stuffing surrounding them like clouds. Toilet paper was festooned over the furniture like giant ribbons.
Staring at the mess in dismay and disbelief, Harriet walked through to the kitchen.
There, on top of a mound of dried pasta sat Madi, looking guilty.
“Oh dear. Did you do this? All by yourself? Boy, are you in trouble, young lady. And a bag of flour too. You’ve been busy.” Harriet eyed the snow-like substance covering everything in sight. She dropped her bag, dragged off her hat and her coat and tried to work out where to start. Take the dog out first? Clear up?
She decided that Madi had to be her priority. She’d never known the animal to behave badly before, which had to mean she was distressed. Clearing up could wait. “Poor Madi. What happened? Were you bored? Scared? Is this a very strange place?” She stooped to make a fuss over the dog. She pulled her onto her lap and removed pieces of pasta from her fur. “Don’t worry. I’m here now and everything is going to be fine.”
“I don’t think so. In fact I’d say everything is far from fine.” An icy voice came from the doorway and Harriet turned her head quickly. She hadn’t heard anyone else enter the apartment, and neither had Madi, who wriggled off her lap and bolted for safety, scattering pasta and rice.
The man in the doorway topped six foot, the collar of his long coat turned up against the bitter winter chill, his eyes a steely blue.
Blue eyes. Ice-blue, to go with the icy voice.
She recognized those eyes, and the handsome face, and her heart skipped a beat. It made her feel a little dizzy, but she was comforted by the fact that if she collapsed in front of him he’d know what to do about it.
Why hadn’t it occurred to her that Debra’s brother might be the doctor who had treated her?
Dr. E. Black.
Not Edward, but Ethan.
Broad shoulders hunched, he scanned the wreckage of his kitchen and his living room with incredulity. “What the hell happened here?”
It was a fair question but she wished he’d asked it in a less threatening tone.
Harriet dragged herself back from the land of dreams to uncomfortable reality.
“I’m guessing Madi didn’t appreciate being left alone all day in a strange environment. The poor thing was scared.”
“The ‘poor thing’? What about my poor apartment?”
He strode into the apartment, slamming the door behind him. The noise echoed around them and was the final straw for Madi, who fled behind the kitchen island.
Harriet was about to go to her when there was a knock on his door. Cursing under his breath, Ethan went back to it and dragged it open.
A woman stood there. Harriet guessed she was in her seventies. Her hair was the color of the bag of flour Madi had just exploded over the floor and walls. She was slightly bent and barely reached Ethan’s chest, but the look she gave him was fierce.
“Dr. Black.” She peered at him over the top of her glasses. “We appreciate how hard you work and your contribution to society. I’d even go so far as to say you’re something of a hero around here, but that doesn’t change the fact that your dog has been howling all day. I’m sorry, but we cannot tolerate it.”
“Howling?” His bemused response made it clear he had no idea how a dog might respond if left alone in a strange apartment all day.
Harriet knew.
She looked questioningly at Madi, who looked back with sorrowful eyes.
“Howling. It has driven us all crazy. As you know, well-mannered dogs are allowed in this building, but—” She broke off, her attention caught by something over his shoulder. “Oh my—whatever has happened?”
“I have yet to work that out, Mrs. Crouch. When I find out, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Have you had a break-in? An intruder? Because—”
“No break-in. My intruder has four legs. He’s my sister’s dog. She had to fly to San Francisco because my niece has been in a serious accident. I’m helping her out.”
Harriet frowned.
Did he not realize Madi was a girl?
Mrs. Crouch seemed to soften a fraction. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know how close you are to your family. How is she doing?”
“I haven’t called the hospital yet. I’m going to do that in a moment.” He raked his fingers through his hair, still damp from the snow. “I apologize for the howling, it won’t happen again. I understand your frustration and I share it. I’d be grateful for your patience while I fix this, and you have my word that I will fix it.”
Mrs. Crouch melted. She patted him on the arm. “Don’t you worry, Dr. Black. We can cope with a little howling if that’s what it takes. Call your sister. You must be worrying to death. I’m sorry to have bothered you at such a difficult time.”
Harriet blinked. He’d turned her from attack to apology with a few sentences.
He probably had a wealth of experience dealing with difficult situations in the emergency room, but still that was a particularly smooth performance. He’d been kind, polite and caring.
The man was wasted as a doctor. He should be a hostage negotiator.
Which was a relief, because for a moment there he’d made her a little nervous.
By the time he finally closed the door again, Harriet had relaxed a little. That feeling lasted until he turned back to her and she saw that the dangerous glint in his eyes was back.
Whatever restraint had prevailed when he’d talked to his neighbor appeared to have abandoned him. And she knew why. Mrs. Crouch wasn’t the focus of his anger.
That seemed to be reserved for Harriet, although she had no idea why he should be holding her responsible. She wasn’t the one who had burst the bag of flour and thrown pasta and toilet paper around his apartment.
Whatever the reason, he was angry, and she wasn’t good with angry men.
Part of her wanted to follow Madi and hide behind the sofa but she stood her ground and reminded herself that he had reason to be a little annoyed, but he shouldn’t be angry with her.
“You’re the dog sitter my sister talked about?” His words were clipped and she swallowed.
“I’m not a sitter. I’m a dog walker, and yes, I’m—”
“So if you’re a dog walker, why didn’t you walk the damn dog?”
It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.
Harriet had to force herself to inhale. “Excuse me?”
“If your job was to walk the dog, why didn’t you do it?” The anger in his voice rattled her composure so badly it took her a moment to respond.
“I arrived five minutes before you did. My plan was to take Madi out and then clear up.”
“Two walks.” He spoke between his teeth, as if he didn’t dare move his lips in case a torrent of heated words flowed out and scalded them both. “Debra said she’d arranged for you to walk the dog twice a day.”
“That’s true, but she told me not to come this morning because she’d make sure Madi was walked and settled before leaving her.”
He scanned the rooms, his expression one of naked incredulity. “Does she look settled to you?”
Madi whined.
“Could you lower your voice? You’re making her nervous.” Not only Madi. Ignoring the fact that her heart was thumping and her palms were sweaty, she stood up and crossed the room to Madi. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t be scared. There’s nothing to be scared of.” She was talking to herself as much as the dog.
“It most certainly is not ‘okay.’ What did you say your name was again?”
It felt a little better with Madi in her arms. She could feel the warmth of her body through her sleek fur. The rapid pounding of her little heart. She was sure hers was doing the same.
“Harriet. Harriet Knight.”
“Well, Miss Knight, I have had a long and testing day so you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not altogether delighted to return home and find my apartment trashed.”
“I wouldn’t describe it as trashed exactly—”
“No?” He stared at the pasta that carpeted the floor. “How would you describe that? What even happened to it?”
“I’m guessing she was interested in the contents of the bag so she decided to take a closer look. While she’s living with you it’s probably a good idea to put food away in the cupboards so it’s secure. I’ll deal with it.” Technically it wasn’t part of her job, but she didn’t want him to be angry with Madi.
“And what happens tomorrow?” He prowled across the apartment, advancing on her with an ominous sense of purpose. “And the day after that? Am I going to be coming home to this every day?”
“I d-d—” She tried to respond but she couldn’t get the word out. It was stuck. Blocked. Horror washed over her. Horror and embarrassment. Had that really just happened? Yes, it had. She’d stammered. After all these years of never stammering once, she’d stammered. She tried again. “I d-d-d.”
No. No!
Madi gave a yelp of protest and Harriet realized it was because she was squeezing the dog a little too tightly.
She relaxed her grip and forced herself to breathe.
Why had this happened now? But she knew the answer to that, of course. It was because Ethan Black was yelling at her. She wasn’t good with angry people. Or maybe the stress of continually pushing herself out of her comfort zone was getting to her. Yes, maybe it was that.
Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have noticed her speech issues. He was too preoccupied by the mess in his apartment.
She swallowed, hoping that it was just a blip. She wanted to try speaking again to test that theory.
“There are days when I’m rarely home. Debra assured me the dog would be no problem.”
“Madi was b-b-b-ored.” Not a blip. Now that the stammering had started, she didn’t seem able to stop it. Mortified, Harriet decided the only option was to stop talking. She had to get out of here and try and calm herself down. Had to work out what had gone wrong.
She felt like a teenager again, terrified to speak in case the words jammed in her mouth.
Terrified of impatient glances or, worse, pity.
It didn’t matter what Ethan Black thought of her, she couldn’t sort herself out with him scowling at her.
She scrambled to her feet, grabbed Madi’s lead and her coat and took her to the door, grabbing her own coat on the way.
“Where are you going?”
“Walk.” She used a single word and didn’t hang around for a longer conversation. She fled.
This was one challenge too far.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_2c31cf70-8f08-517c-a5ed-87fd8873ec07)
ETHAN STARED AT the closed door in frustration and disbelief.
Walk? Walk where? It was snowing outside and the temperature was dropping. Not to mention the fact that they’d been in the middle of a conversation about how to handle the dog.
The dog.
It occurred to him that a stranger had just walked out of his apartment with his sister’s beloved pet.
“Dammit.” He ran his hand over his face. What was he supposed to do now?
She’d taken the dog. His sister’s dog, who was his responsibility. And by the look on her face, she wasn’t intending to return in a hurry. Maybe not at all.
Why had she run out like that?
Guilt flashed through him and he ran through the conversation in his mind.
He’d walked through the door, seen the mess and—
Yelled.
He winced, hit by a stab of regret and remorse. He’d definitely yelled.
And something about her had changed when he’d done that.
She’d been tense and defensive and then she’d stammered.
He thought back, remembering the look of dismay on her face.
At the time he hadn’t thought anything of it, mostly because he’d been too focused on his own emotions. He’d registered the disfluency in her speech, but ignored it.
Now he remembered the flash of panic and mortification in her eyes, as if something dire and desperate had happened.
Her appalled reaction told him this was something she fought against. He’d dated a speech-language pathologist for a while when he was an intern, and he remembered her telling him that stressful situations could sometimes trigger a relapse in people who generally had the condition under control.
What if he’d caused the stressful situation?
What if Harriet Knight didn’t normally stammer?
He probably shouldn’t have yelled at her, but he’d had a seriously bad day and returning to find his apartment looking like the inside of a garbage disposal unit hadn’t helped. Surely she could see that?
And he hadn’t been yelling at her exactly. He’d been yelling generally.
His attempt to justify his behavior had no impact on his guilt levels because the truth was none of it was her fault.
He was about to work out whether he should go after them or not, when his phone rang.
He saw from the caller display that it was his sister in California.
Great.
Perfect timing.
His concern for his niece eclipsing his worry about the dog, Ethan answered the phone.
He was relieved when Debra told him everything was going smoothly.
“Good.”
“How about you? How is Madi? Has she been good today? Is she settling in?”
Ethan looked round his wrecked apartment. Neither his sister nor his niece needed anything else to be anxious about. And he certainly didn’t dare confess that right now he didn’t even know where their precious dog was. He had to hope Harriet returned with her. If she didn’t—well, he’d worry about that when it happened. “She seems to be settling fine.”
“And Harriet showed up on time? Well, of course she did. I don’t know why I’m even asking that. Harriet is the most reliable person on the planet. Isn’t she gorgeous?”
Ethan thought of the way she’d scolded him for upsetting the dog. “Charming.”
“I knew you’d like her. I don’t know why this didn’t occur to me before but she’d be perfect for you.”
“What?! Debs—”
“Just trying to turbo boost your romantic life.”
“My romantic life is fine, thanks.”
“No, your sex life is fine. Your romantic life is dead.”
Ethan rolled his eyes. “I draw the line at talking about sex with my sister. And I have all the romance I want, or need.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You were married. Been there, tried that, yada yada. But just because you and Alison ended up on the rocks doesn’t mean you can’t try again. I don’t know Harriet that well but I love what I know and I would have said you’re exactly her type.”
Ethan doubted Harriet would agree.
He’d never met a woman more eager to get away from him.
The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that he was the reason she’d fled the apartment in such a hurry.
The odd thing was that she seemed familiar, and yet for the life of him he couldn’t think why. He didn’t own a dog, and he wasn’t the type of guy who forgot the women he dated. Could she be a friend of a friend? Someone he’d met in a group?
He asked a few more questions about his niece, ended the call and poured himself a whiskey. He drank it neat, but it did nothing to salve his conscience.
He had a right to be annoyed, but he didn’t have a right to make her the target of his frustration.
Since when had he been a bully?
To work off his tension, he grabbed two large garbage bags and started cleaning the apartment. He tried to look on the positive side. At least the dog didn’t seem to have bathroom issues. There was no water damage. Nothing lasting. The dog—he had to remember to call it Madi. Madi Madi—hadn’t peed.
But what if tomorrow she did?
What if tomorrow she took her boredom out on his sofa? And if she carried on howling it would make him unpopular with his neighbors. He didn’t have time to deal with aggravation in his private life. Hopefully Harriet would return with the dog, but even if she did the problem wouldn’t be solved. There was tomorrow to think about. And the next day.
He took his frustrations out on the cleaning and didn’t stop until the place was shining. No one would have guessed a dog had ever entered his apartment.
He’d cleared up the last of the mess when the doorman called up to tell him Harriet was downstairs.
Despite the fact that he was about to let the perpetrator of the mess back into his apartment, Ethan felt nothing but relief.
She’d returned with the dog and saved him difficult explanations and more stress.
He opened the door and Harriet walked straight past him, keeping her head down.
Ethan closed the door carefully, knowing he had a situation far more complicated to unravel than the one with Mrs. Crouch.
What was the best approach? Should he raise the fact that she’d stammered? Should he apologize or would that embarrass her more? No, it was probably better to pretend he hadn’t noticed. He’d keep his apology general.
“I apologize for shouting. Not that it’s an excuse, but I had a difficult day.”
Finally she looked at him, and her eyes were accusatory and angry. “So did Madi.”
He tried again. “I meant that my day was difficult before I arrived home. I work in the emergency room. I lost a patient.” The moments the word left his lips, he regretted them. Why had he said that? Death was part of his job. He dealt with it in his own way, and his way never involved sharing his feelings with other people. What was he hoping for? Sympathy? Or was he simply offering up an excuse for his behavior, hoping for forgiveness.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She unclipped Madi’s lead and eased her out of her coat. Her gaze was a little less fierce. “That must be difficult to handle. I guess every day is difficult for you.”
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not an excuse.”
“I would think it would be almost impossible to forget it. And I don’t see it as an excuse. It’s an explanation and I’m grateful for it.” She removed Madi’s coat and then sat on the floor, opened the backpack she was carrying and carefully cleaned the dog’s paws.
Ethan felt more and more guilty. “I appreciate the effort you’re taking, but you don’t have to do that. Turns out I’m pretty good at cleaning up.”
“I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for her. The snow is bad for the dog. They use salt and other de-icers and it irritates their paws.”
Ethan, who rarely felt out of his depth, felt totally at a loss. “I never knew that.”
She glanced at him briefly. “It seems there’s a lot you don’t know about dogs, Dr. Black.”
“Ethan. You clean the paws of every dog you walk?”
“If I think it’s necessary, yes.” She dealt with the final paw, taking her time, meticulous and careful. “Just as you probably take the blood pressure of every patient you see, if you think it’s necessary.”
She was telling him that what she did was important too.
He got the message.
“So why do you think Madi—” he emphasized the name, hoping to earn his way back into her favor “—tried to destroy my home?”
“I don’t think she was trying to destroy your home. I think she was expressing boredom. Or fear.” Having dried and checked the last of Madi’s paws, she stood up. “Spaniels are an active breed, and they crave companionship. They need to be well trained. Behavioral problems are not uncommon. What we have to do is evaluate the cause of the behavior. She’s in an unfamiliar environment. I suspect that’s all it is.”
All?
Ethan thought back to the carnage he’d witnessed. He opened his mouth to suggest she might be minimizing the problem and then closed it again. “So what do you suggest?”
“She needs to be shown patience and kindness and then she’ll be fine.”
“That’s it? Are you sure? What if you’re wrong?”
Her eyes narrowed. “When I came to the ER the other night, I didn’t question your professional opinion, Dr. Black. You told me I didn’t need an X-ray. I accepted your judgment.”
When I came to the ER…
That was where he’d seen her before. Of course. The girl with the injured ankle. And she was right. She hadn’t questioned his opinion.
He felt thoroughly put in his place. And he noticed that she was no longer stammering. Nor did she seem afraid or intimidated.
“I remember now. That explains why you look familiar. How is your ankle?”
“It’s improving, but I did as you instructed.” She said it pointedly and he took the point.
“So what, in your professional opinion, am I going to do with this dog to settle her down? How do I care for her?”
“You can’t care for her. It wouldn’t be fair.”
Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you appreciate that. It’s more than my sister did. I have a busy, responsible job and it certainly isn’t fair on me to expect—”
“I was talking about Madi.” Her gaze was steady on his. “It isn’t fair on Madi to be with someone so unsympathetic and ignorant of her needs. And I can’t teach you. You don’t have the patience for it.”
Ethan was taken aback. “I work in the emergency room. I have more patience—and patients—than you can possibly imagine.”
“The difference is that your patients matter to you,” she said. “I don’t believe Madi matters. I think you agreed to do this because you love your sister, but loving your sister is not enough. You have to love Madi too, not just tolerate her. Dogs have an instinct for how someone is feeling. Let’s be honest, Dr. Black, you’re not a dog person.”
“What does ‘not a dog person’ look like?”
“They look pretty much like you. They keep their distance from the animal, sometimes it’s because they’re afraid—”
“I’m not afraid of dogs.” She thought he was a coward?
“—and sometimes it’s because people simply don’t like dogs, which is perfectly fine with me—” her tone suggested it wasn’t fine with her at all “—as long as they don’t try and care for a dog. You have a dog to care for, and the only solution I can come up with is that I will take Madi with me.”
“Take her? Take her where?”
“Home. I’ll call a cab and I can take Madi and all her food and belongings over to my apartment.”
“I can’t let you do that. I don’t even know you.”
“Madi knows me.” Offering her support to that statement, Madi pressed close to Harriet, licking her face adoringly.
Ethan tried not to think about all the potential pathogens she was spreading. “Are you allowed pets in your apartment?”
“I would never live anywhere that wouldn’t let me keep a dog. I often foster animals for the animal shelter.”
And now she wanted to take Madi. She was offering to remove his problem.
He was sorely tempted to let her do exactly that, but then he remembered his promise to his sister.
He thought about Karen, lying in hospital anxious about her dog.
“I can’t let you do that.”
“You don’t have a choice, Dr. Black, because I’m not leaving Madi here with you.”
Had Debra really said Harriet was gentle and mild?
Clearly she didn’t know her well.
He breathed deeply. “Can we start this again? I had a long day. A difficult day. I returned home to mayhem. I’ve needed an adjustment period, that’s true, and it’s also true that I have almost no experience caring for animals, but this dog is precious to my sister and my niece and I will do whatever it takes to make her happy while she’s staying with me.” He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. “But I’m going to need you to help me because, as you rightly say, I know nothing about dogs. And before you think that disqualifies me from caring for her, I should emphasize that I’m a quick learner.”
“I don’t think it’s in Madi’s best interests to stay here.” She stared at him for a long time and he sensed she was trying to read him.
“Look—have you eaten?”
“Excuse me?”
“Have you had dinner? It’s late. I’m hungry and I worked right through without lunch. My job doesn’t leave much time for food or bathroom breaks. You might as well join me and we can talk this through. I need to convince you I can be a good temporary home for Madi, but I can’t do that while you’re sitting there covered in snow glaring at me as if I’m an axe murderer. So let’s have dinner.” Why was she still staring at him? And why did she look so horrified? “I’m hungry. You must be too.”
There was a pause.
“I—I don’t think that’s a g-g-g—” She broke off, visibly dismayed.
He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t a big deal. He almost finished her sentence but then remembered his old girlfriend telling him it was the worst thing you could do for someone who stammered.
So he stayed silent and waited. Listened.
When it came to clearing up the mess left by a dog he’d lost his cool, but with this he had endless patience.
There was a tense silence.
Still he waited. He saw her throat move as she swallowed. Saw her draw in a breath and brace herself to try again, like a swimmer about to plunge into deep water that had already tried to drown her once.
“—sensible.” She changed the word and it came out smoothly, but he didn’t see relief in her eyes. He saw embarrassment.
“I’ve made you nervous because I barked at you.” He wondered whether to be blunt or tactful. He went with blunt. “You stammered, and I’m guessing that was because of me.” The deepening color in her cheeks told him he was right. “You mostly have it under control, is that right? And then I walked in here with my big mouth and my insensitive ways and it came back.”
There was a pause and for a moment he thought she wasn’t going to reply.
“Y-yes.”
Knowing that made him feel almost as bad as she did.
“Why? What is it about me that triggered it?”
“You were angry. I’m not g-g-g—” She stopped, frustration in her eyes.
He could feel her agony. He witnessed people’s agony daily, but witnessing it and being the cause of it were two different things. This time he was feeling it with her and it was a profoundly uncomfortable experience. Clearly he wasn’t as emotionally numbed as he’d thought. He had his usual urge to fix it, but this time he wasn’t dealing with blood or broken bones. He’d inflicted damage for which there was no easy fix.
She took another couple of breaths and tried again. “Angry people upset me.” She stooped to pick up her bag, stuffing everything back inside. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters, and not just because you’re going to be helping me with Madi. We’re going to figure this out.”
“I c-c-c—” She closed her eyes briefly. “Can’t work with you.”
He felt a flash of concern.
If Harriet refused to help him then he was in serious trouble.
“I handled the situation badly. I’m sorry and I want us to start again. You weren’t mad with Madi when she destroyed my apartment. You understood that there was something going on underneath. That she was upset.” On impulse, he dropped into a crouch and held out his hand to Madi. “Come here, girl.”
The dog looked at him warily and he couldn’t exactly blame her.
Obviously deciding his contrition was genuine, she trotted across to him.
He stroked his hand over her head, feeling silken fur under his palm. “Good girl. Lovely girl. Most beautiful dog in the world.” Madi sat down and looked at him. Ethan looked at Harriet. “If she’s ready to give me another chance, surely you can too?”
Harriet straightened and slid her bag onto her shoulder. “That’s a low trick, Dr.—”
“Ethan.” He said it softly. “My name is Ethan. And it’s not a trick. Stay for dinner. Dinner and one conversation. That’s all I’m asking.”
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_707a1da6-0451-55d1-afcd-878e570f8268)
DINNER?
It had taken all her willpower to bring Madi back to the apartment. Given the choice, she would have taken the dog straight home. Then she would have called Debra and suggested that her brother, no matter how skilled he was in the hospital setting, wasn’t good with animals.
But she knew, deep down, that her prime reason for doing it wouldn’t have been about Madi. It would have been about her.
She’d stammered. Not only that, instead of standing her ground and using all the strategies she’d learned as a child, she’d run away. That depressed her almost as much as the knowledge that she’d retreated when she should have advanced.
Ethan Black was still waiting for her answer. “I understand your dilemma. I’m the cause of your stammer, so why would you stay? But, Harriet, that’s on me. I’m the one with the issue here, not you.”
He didn’t get it. And why would he? This was huge.
She felt as if she’d regressed fifteen years. Was this a one-off? Would it keep happening now? Would she be unable to speak without worrying if the words were going to come out the way she wanted them to? Would it be like school, when there were times when she’d only spoken if she absolutely had to?
She was desperate to call her twin and talk it through, but that wasn’t an option. She couldn’t tell her sister that she wanted to be independent one minute, and then call her in hysterics the next.
She had to find a way through this. But how, when the feeling of panic was a tight ball in the center of her chest?
And she realized with a flash of insight that the “challenges” she’d been setting herself hadn’t really been challenges at all. Where was the challenge in walking in high heels? Who even cared if she could walk in high heels?
This was the challenge. Staying where she was, when all she wanted to do was leave.
Saying yes to dinner when her lips wanted to say no.
“I d-d—” Hot with humiliation, she almost turned away and gave up but something inside her kept her feet glued to the floor.
She met Ethan’s gaze and braced herself for sympathy or, worse, pity, but saw neither.
“This isn’t my area of expertise,” he said. “If you’d slashed yourself with a knife or fallen out of a window, I’m your man, but I’m not afraid to admit I’m out of my depth here. Tell me how I can help you.”
He was asking how he could help.
No one ever did that.
They finished her sentences. They made assumptions. They talked over her. They gave up waiting for her to say whatever it was she was trying to say.
Ethan did none of those things.
“You c-c-c—” The frustration almost made her burst, but Ethan waited quietly. Patiently.
The one thing she didn’t associate her stammer with was patience. Not her own, or other people’s. But Ethan was patient. She didn’t get the sense that he was itching to get on with the next thing. Which was unusual. Nor did she get the impression that he was judging her the way most people did. So many people seemed unable to accept any variation on their view of “normal.” As a child she’d discovered that anything that made you different, made you stand out, also made you a target. In the jungle of the playground, differences were seen as weaknesses, and weaknesses were rarely celebrated. People thought she was gentle, but Harriet knew that wasn’t accurate. She wasn’t particularly gentle, whatever that meant, except perhaps with animals. She was tolerant. She accepted differences. And it seemed that despite his earlier anger, Ethan Black did too. Recognizing that diffused some of the tension building inside her. “You can’t help me.” This time the words came out unrestricted.
He paused. “In the past, what would you have done that has helped?”
Breathing. Relaxation. She’d even tried hypnosis once, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. Instead she breathed, forcing herself to relax. She was not going to walk out. If she walked out she would lose all respect for herself.
She was going to stay. Talk to him. Have dinner.
That was today’s Challenge Harriet.
And it was probably the biggest challenge she could have given herself.
He walked to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of white wine and then removed two glasses from a cabinet.
He poured the wine and then held out a glass to her.
She took it from him. “Thank you.”
This time the words came out smoothly, and she felt weak with relief.
Maybe this would be okay. Maybe this wasn’t a disaster.
He leaned against the counter, the subdued lighting in the kitchen creating a false air of intimacy. It bathed the apartment with a soothing glow that nudged the edge of romantic.
Or maybe that was just the way her mind worked.
Ethan Black would probably be appalled had he been able to read her thoughts.
She wasn’t a fool. She was well aware that he wasn’t interested in her personally. What he was doing was managing a situation he believed he had caused. She was employed by his sister, who, presumably, he didn’t want to upset. More importantly, he needed her to help with Madi. After the vanishing act she had pulled earlier, presumably he was afraid she might walk out and not return.
If he’d known her, he would have known that wasn’t a possibility.
Harriet would never leave a dog in a situation she felt was bad for them, and although she had no doubt Ethan was a good person and a great doctor, she wasn’t convinced he was good for Madi.
In reality it wasn’t his fault that she wasn’t good with strangers.
That was her problem. She was the one who had to deal with it.
She tried to relax the tense knot in her stomach. She tried telling herself he wasn’t a stranger. Not only had he treated her ankle, he was Debra’s brother and she’d known Debra for years. He hadn’t shouted because he was angry with her. He’d shouted because he was angry with himself. Because he hadn’t been able to save that patient.
She couldn’t even begin to imagine how that must feel. She wanted to ask him, but right now he was focused on her.
“How long has it been?”
Taking a slow, deep breath and looking directly at him, she tried again to speak. “A few years.” The words emerged with no problem. No barrier.
“Years?” Ethan put his wineglass down slowly. “Then I’m doubly sorry.”
“Why?”
“Because I triggered something you had under control.”
“It’s my stammer. Not your fault.”
“We both know that’s not true. I was rude, which is inexcusable. I made you anxious.”
“I find it difficult to talk to people I don’t know. I’m not good with strangers. I’m shy—” She hated saying it. Immediately she wanted to follow up by saying that shy wasn’t the same as weak. “And I have no idea why I just told you that. The one thing I don’t do is divulge personal information to people I don’t know.”
“I’m a doctor. It’s different.”
Was that it? Maybe it was.
He sat down on one of the chairs by the kitchen island and gestured for her to do the same.
“Did you see a speech therapist?”
“For a while. Maybe I should do it again.”
“I don’t think you need that. You just need to relax and take your time. And not hang out with guys like me.” His tone was dry. “You’re not alone, you know. Aristotle had a stammer. So did Charles Darwin.”
“King George VI.”
“Marilyn Monroe.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t know.”
“There’s an interview where she talks about it. So how do you manage with your job? Aren’t you constantly required to talk to strangers?”
“Yes, but my sister does that part. New business, bookings, she handles that side of things.” She slid onto the chair next to him, her fingers grasping her wineglass. She didn’t trust her own powers of speech, and it was an awful feeling. She wasn’t sure if alcohol would make it worse or better. “I live life in my comfort zone.”
“That wasn’t how it seemed the other night when I saw you in the emergency room.”
“That was me trying to leave my comfort zone. You saw how it turned out.” Oh what the heck. She took a gulp of wine and felt it slide into her veins. The words were loose and flowing again. She could almost pretend she’d imagined what had happened. Almost, but not quite. It had happened. And it could happen again. Maybe on one level she’d always known that, but she’d gotten complacent. But maybe complacency was a good thing. Worrying, anxiety, made it worse. “I think we’d both agree I’m a work in progress.”
“But you went on a date with a stranger. You didn’t stammer?”
She put her glass down. “He didn’t give me a chance to talk. But I did manage about four short sentences, which was more than I managed on the date before him.”
His eyes gleamed and he leaned forward to top up her wine. “Sounds as if you’ve had some thrilling dates.”
“The best.” She found herself smiling too. She also found herself wishing someone like Ethan had been her blind date, which made no sense at all because less than half an hour earlier she’d left the apartment and braved snow rather than stay in the same space as him. “I’m done with it now.”
“You’ve finished dating? Aren’t you a little young to give up on love?”
Why was he asking her so many questions?
He’d shown more interest in her than the three men she’d dated put together.
“I’m not giving up on love. I’m giving up on internet dating.” She hadn’t thought about it until that moment, but she realized she meant it. After the last guy, she’d never believe anything she read about anyone again. She needed to be able to look into their eyes and judge whether they seemed honest or not. “Which probably means no more dating at all. It’s not easy meeting people.”
“That’s true.”
She hadn’t expected him to agree with her. “You must meet people all the time at the hospital.”
“Not really. I don’t date patients, obviously, and most of my colleagues are too busy to even think about connecting socially, even if we could get past the awkwardness of dating someone you see every day.”
She’d always assumed that dating was easy for everyone else. That she was the only one who found the whole thing daunting and overwhelming.
Harriet wondered if she still counted as a patient, and then wondered why she was even thinking that.
She’d assumed someone like him would be married with two cute kids.
It hadn’t occurred to her he’d be single.
What was wrong with the world?
Unsettled by her own thought processes she made a joke. “Maybe you should try internet dating. Put ‘doctor’ down and you’ll be inundated. Especially when people realize you actually are a doctor.”
“I’m nobody’s idea of a dream date, Harriet.”
He would have been her dream date.
Where had that thought come from? Flustered, she took a sip of her wine, reminding herself that he didn’t like dogs. She could never be with anyone who didn’t like dogs, even if he was a good listener and had eyes that made her think of blue skies and long summer days.
“You’re too hard on yourself. Shrek would seem like a dream date compared to the last three guys I met.”
“I’ve never been compared to Shrek before. I may need therapy to get over that one.”
At least he had a sense of humor. “You said you lost a patient. How do you handle that?”
The worst thing she handled in her working day was misbehaving dogs and inclement weather.
“Tonight I handled it by losing my temper with you.” His tone was dry, his words self-deprecating. “Normally? I deal with it by filing it away as part of the job. It’s not something I usually talk about. I can’t believe I did. I assume it was a pathetic attempt on my part to induce a pity response that might lead to forgiveness.”
She loved his honesty. Her respect for him grew. “People don’t expect doctors to show their feelings. Which must make it hard. You’re supposed to be caring, but still detached. How does that even work?”
“Sometimes it doesn’t. Generally it’s easier in the emergency room. The people I see are strangers. I don’t have the connection with them that doctors in other specialties might. My father works in primary care, and there are some families he has been seeing for thirty years. When he loses a patient he grieves right along with the family. I learned to handle my feelings a long time ago. Most doctors do. You learn to put up emotional boundaries.”
“But putting up boundaries doesn’t mean you’re not feeling it, does it? When you walked through that door earlier you were on edge. Irritable and upset. That’s why you lost your temper over nothing.”
“I’m willing to concede that I was wrong in my response to the situation, but I will not admit that the destruction of my apartment was nothing.”
Harriet finished her wine. “I’m sitting here because you told me you had lost a patient. If you’re now telling me that it had no effect on you, I’m going to walk through that door and I’ll be taking Madi with me.”
“My sister was so wrong about you. She told me you were gentle. She never mentioned you were ruthless and capable of blackmail.” He reached to top up her glass again but she shook her head and covered the glass with her fingers.
“No more. It’s cold out there. I don’t want to slip and bang my head on the way home. I especially don’t want to be taken to the emergency room.”
He put the bottle down. “Because now you know I work there.”
“No, because you’re not on duty tonight.” She spoke without thinking and saw the surprise flicker across his face. She was surprised too. No more wine, Harriet. “I mean because you’re obviously a good doctor. No other reason. And I’m only ruthless when it comes to protecting animals.”
He looked at her for a moment and then stood up. “I’ll order the food. Is there anything you don’t eat?”
“No, but if you tell me what there is in your fridge I can cook it. I’m a good cook.”
“In that case you are definitely going to cook for me one day, but tonight I was thinking more of takeout.” He pulled open a drawer and spread a selection of flyers in front of her. “There’s a Thai restaurant round the corner where the food is so good it makes you want to move to the Far East. Or we could go with pizza if you prefer.”
“Thai sounds delicious, but the menu looks baffling.” And the prices high. Their business was doing well, but there had been enough years where they’d scraped by to make Harriet balk at the idea of spending hard-earned dollars on food she could produce herself.
“If you don’t have any allergies, you can leave it with me.” He picked up the phone. The fact that he ordered without a pause and without once consulting the menu told her that he frequently made the same call.
She remembered seeing him in action in the hospital and sensed he was used to giving orders. Also to knowing what he was doing.
“Isn’t every day bad where you work?”
“Some are worse than others. Today was particularly difficult, and there were complicating circumstances.”
“You see a lot of things.” Things she probably couldn’t imagine, least of all deal with on a daily basis.
“The people who come through the department are often under a tremendous amount of stress. They’re anxious and scared, and that can translate into aggression. People want things done right away, and when that doesn’t happen they’re not happy.”
They’re not happy. “That’s an understatement, right?”
He gave a half smile. “Yes. And we prioritize patients according to medical need, not the order that they walk into the department. That’s always a tough one for people to understand.”
“They think their injury is bad, but you’re seeing someone far worse.” She nodded. “You must handle a lot of abuse.”
“ER workers are an easy target.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out forks. “I pride myself in being skilled at diffusing anger. I spend all day managing other people’s emotions. It seems as if when I walked through that door tonight I forgot to manage my own.”
“It must have been the final straw coming home to the mess Madi created.”
He closed the drawer. “Tell me honestly—is this what I’m going to expect every day? Break the bad news to me gently.”
Harriet glanced at Madi, who was happily gnawing her toy, oblivious to the chaos she’d caused. “She seems settled now. Hopefully it will continue. What time do you leave for work tomorrow?”
Until that moment she hadn’t made up her mind that she was going to go through with this, but their short conversation had revealed a lot about him.
Despite what had happened earlier, she suspected it took a lot to make him lose control of his emotions. He was the sort who would keep his head under pressure. She wondered what exactly had happened with the patient he’d lost. What had driven him so close to the edge? What was different about this day?
“Tomorrow? 6:00 a.m.”
“You need to take her out before you leave. You don’t need to walk her, just take her out to pee. Then I’ll come at nine.” Harriet pulled out her phone and typed a note for herself. “What time will you be home?”
“Difficult to say.” He checked his schedule on his phone. “In theory, five p.m. But it could be anytime. Do I seriously have to take her out if you’re coming at nine?”
“If you don’t want her to wet your oak floor and ruin it, then yes. I don’t want to leave Madi on her own for more than a few hours, so instead of nine I’ll come at nine thirty, and then I’ll come back at two thirty. That should work.”
He spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Whatever you say. You’re the expert.”
She wondered if he was making fun of her but his expression was deadly serious. “I’ll take her out for some fresh air and exercise, always assuming the snow isn’t too deep, and then I’ll spend time with her here.”
“And you can do that? How many other dogs do you walk in the day?”
“It varies. Tomorrow I have a pretty busy day, but I can pass at least two of my walks on to another dog walker, so that’s what I’ll do. Until she’s happier, Madi is my priority. I can bring some paperwork and do it in your apartment, if you’re comfortable with that.”
“Anything! I owe you in a big way. Thank you.”
“I’m not—”
“I know.” He interrupted her with a wry smile. “You’re not doing it for me. You’re doing it for the dog.”
“Madi. I’m doing it for Madi.”
“You’re as sensitive as my sister. She is a dog. Why can’t I call her that?”
“Probably for the same reason people don’t call you ‘the human.’ It’s not overly friendly.”
The food arrived and Ethan spread the cartons across the kitchen island and handed her a plate.
“Help yourself. And tell me more about your business.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m interested.”
“What do you want to know? We walk dogs. We cover the whole of the East Side of Manhattan.” And she was proud of that. Proud of the way they’d built their business from nothing.
“Presumably you don’t do it all by yourself. You mentioned a sister—”
“Fliss. We’re twins. We run it together.”
“And you employ dog walkers?” He spooned noodles onto her plate. “How does that work?”
“They’re often college students. Sometimes people who are retired. We don’t really care about the background. The important thing is that they love dogs and are responsible. Our business is built on our ability to deliver a top quality service to our clients.”
“So how many dogs do you walk at a time?”
“We only offer solo walks. It’s a personal service. Easier to meet the needs of the dog that way.”
“And you take them to the park?”
“It varies.” She twisted the noodles onto her fork. “Sometimes we take them to the park, but that doesn’t work for all dogs. Sometimes we just take them for walks around the neighborhood.”
“So tomorrow—do I have to bathe Madi when I come in after a walk? Clean out her paws? Because I have no idea how to do that.”
He was a guy who spent his days handling life-threatening situations and he was thrown by a little dog. “Just wipe her down. I’ll do the rest when I arrive.”
“And you will arrive? You’re not going to leave me in the lurch to punish me for my earlier behavior?”
“I wouldn’t do that to Madi.”
He pulled a face. “So you’re doing it because you’re afraid to leave her in my care. I shouted at you, and now you think I’m beyond hope as a dog owner, and possibly even as a human being. Can you forgive me?”
She tried not to smile. “I don’t know, Dr. Black. I have yet to make up my mind about you. I’ll let you know when I do.”
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_de90e50b-69e9-54ca-8ea2-9a94d659bf3a)
HARRIET RODE THE SUBWAY, and then walked the rest of the way to her apartment. She was desperate to whip out her phone and search for “recurrence of stammering,” but it was freezing cold and she told herself that impatience wasn’t a decent trade-off for possible frostbite.
Anxious to do some research, her heart sank when she arrived home to find Daniel waiting outside her apartment.
Normally she would have been pleased to see her brother, but he was one of the few people who was likely to be able to see beneath the fake smile and want to know what had happened.
And she didn’t want to talk about it.
She wanted to deal with this herself, preferably by opening her laptop and doing research. She needed answers.
Why had it come back? Did the fact that it had come back briefly mean that it might come back again?
When? Under what circumstances?
Maybe the evening had ended well enough but still it felt like a huge setback.
If she’d stammered tonight, then she could stammer again.
It was something she hadn’t had to think about in a long while.
Should she contact a speech therapist? Ethan didn’t seem to think she should, but she wasn’t convinced.
She had a thousand questions churning inside her but she knew if she voiced any of this aloud to Daniel he’d go into overprotective mode, so she filed away her questions even though it almost killed her to do it.
“Isn’t this a bit late for you to visit? Normally you drop round when you’re hungry.” And her brother had done that less and less since he’d fallen in love with Molly. Given that the only thing she’d thought her brother was ever going to be wedded to was his single status, she found it encouraging that he was now crazily in love.
If he could find someone in the crazy tapestry of humans that populated Manhattan then surely there was hope for her too?
“Molly and I were taking the dogs for a walk and we thought we’d drop by and see how you’re doing. Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

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