by Nancy Warren
“Don’t they deserve some dignity?”
“How does she feed them all?” he asked, figuring there had to be a hefty hay bill out there.
“She runs a riding stable so the horses get exercise and the locals get a chance to ride. That helps pay for their feed. She and her husband also grow organic herbs and vegetables. They get by.”
By the skin of their teeth, he bet. His esophagus tickled when he looked out at all those horses. One came right up to him and put its massive head on his shoulder.
“Hey!” he said, with a laugh.
Amy Potter laughed from right behind him.
“She thinks you’ve got a treat. My husband likes to tease them sometimes. He puts carrots behind his ears.”
That hubster. What a comedian.
Amy handed him a small and wormy looking apple that had to be left over from last year since it was in about as good shape as the horses, but the Appaloosa who’d been nuzzling his neck seemed happy to see it, worms and all, and took it delicately from his palm.
They stayed and fed horses until everybody who wanted one got an apple. There was a nice looking brown Quarter horse that might be up to his weight, he thought, then mentally shook his head. What was he thinking? If he wanted to ride there was a stable in New Jersey where he rode the odd weekend. The horses were top of the line thoroughbreds. These sorry creatures looked like he’d have to carry them.
“Do the Potters own those fields?” he asked after they’d said goodbye and made their way back to the car.
“No. They own a little land around the house. But they rent the fields from Gus Carver. He’s a potato farmer. When he rests his fields, that’s where the horses go. It works out for everyone.”
Joe wasn’t sure the arrangement was still going to work out when the mineral rights were claimed by the Gellmans. Their business interests would take precedence over the needs of a bunch of worn out and generally useless horses. Didn’t seem fair they should end up as glue or dog food, though.
“You’re quiet,” Emily said after they drove away. “Are you tired?”
“No. I was thinking, hot flashes gave those horses life and cancer almost ended it. Funny how that works.”
“Amy is one of the nicest people I know. If there’s a stray or a wounded animal, it gets taken to her.”
“There’s no vet in town?”
“No. Amy’s a pretty good alternative pet healer, but if it’s very serious, Gordon Hartnett will take a look.”
Joe jerked his head her way so hard he almost twisted it right off his neck. He stared at her. “You’re telling me I put my life in the hands of a guy who also practices on animals?”
He could tell she was biting back a smile. “He hardly ever loses a patient,” she said at last.
He snorted. Oh, great. Now he was sounding like a horse. No doubt the good doctor had something to do with that. Probably gave him horse pills by accident.
The sooner he got out of this crazy town the better.
“Animals love you,” she said after a minute, sounding surprised.
“So do women. It’s my natural charm.”
“No. They really do. Mae West frankly loves men, so I discounted that even though Aunt Olive swears the cat’s abandoned her to sleep on your bed at night.”
He didn’t say a word, but kept looking out the window. He’d thought at least a cat could keep a secret. But not if she was female apparently.
“Then the old dog today and the horses. And you know what I find really interesting?”
“Look.” He pointed through the window at the sky. “Isn’t that a UFO? Probably one of your neighbors coming home.”
“You love animals.”
What had she thought? That he tortured bunnies for fun?
When he didn’t answer, she said. “It’s not a crime, you know.”
“Of course not. I can’t believe you’re making such a deal of it.”
“It shows a soft side, that’s all.”
“Hitler loved animals.” He had no idea if that were true, but it sounded good.
“Do you have pets?”
“I live in a Manhattan high rise and I’m never home. What do you think?” Though he did feed Mutt and Jeff, a pair of pigeons that had taken to hanging around his roof patio.
“What about when you were a kid? Did you have a favorite pet?”
“I was the favorite pet,” he said and then was appalled at how bitter he’d sounded. What was the matter with him? He never whined about all that boo-hoo unhappy childhood crap. He tried to backtrack fast. “My parents were society types. My dad was a big time banker and my mom ran their social set. They had me late in life. We traveled too much to have a dog or cat, they said.” Even though they’d employed full time servants.
“Oh, how sad. Do you have brothers or sisters?”
He shook his head.
“I never did either. I would have loved a sister.”
And he’d have loved a brother. Somebody he could talk to and who could share the blame if there was mess around the house, or a window got broken or a potted plant overturned.
“I spent most of my time in boarding and prep schools. That was like having a couple of hundred siblings.”
“Was that as much fun as it sounds?”
He thought about it. Nodded. “Yes. A lot of the time it was great. I’m still friends with some of those guys.”
“But you never had a real home.”
He didn’t answer, but was impressed at her acuity.
“I didn’t have a traditional home, either. Funny how important it seemed at the time.”
“Now you create a home for other people. You do a fantastic job.” He could see her with a houseful of kids some time in the future. She’d be terrific at it, he knew. The pang that crossed his heart came and went so fast he hardly noticed it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When they reached home, Joe realized his R&R at the Beaverton General, followed by a revivifying visit to the stable of the walking dead, was over. A glance at his watch told him he could get a couple of hours in before business closed down in New York.
“Thanks for the lift,” he said, when they pulled in to the parking area. He glanced over to where his rental had been parked. He wasn’t very surprised to see it still wasn’t back from the garage. Beaverton hadn’t been good for the health of either him or the rental car. The sooner they were back where they belonged, the better.
“My new bike’s still in the shed?”
“Of course. You should probably go straight up to bed and rest.”
He was already out of the car by the time she finished her sentence. “Have to check in with the office,” he said, and strode to the door of the Shady Lady.
Nothing seemed to have changed in the time he’d been away. The place still smelled like old wood and lemon polish. And whatever flowers Emily had put around the place. She loved those flowers.
“Afternoon, ladies,” he said, when he saw Olive and Lydia gossiping in the hall.
“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
“Are you feeling better dear?” They peered at him with equal worried expressions, almost as though they’d put him in the hospital.
“You bet I do. You’ll have to try harder next time to kill me,” he joked.
“We never meant to!” the plumper one, Lydia said.
The older, skinnier one, wavered before his eyes and had to put a hand to the wall to steady herself.
“Whoa, there,” he said, stepping quickly forward. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Of course. Time for my nap, that’s all,” she said weakly. She really didn’t look all that hot.
“Do you need some help up the stairs?”
“No. I’ll be fine.” And she tottered off, Lydia in her wake. They started whispering the minute they turned the corner. They obviously thought they were out of earshot, but he heard the odd word, including ‘cordial.’ Good he thought. A stiff drink was what Olive looked as thou
gh she needed.
Mae West had obviously heard his voice. She came lounging up to him and curled her body around his ankles, whining at him the whole time.
“Look, It wasn’t my idea to end up in hospital,” he told the cat, picking it up and laying it over his shoulder where it started to purr. “But don’t get used to me. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
He went straight to the library where he’d left his cell phone. It was gone. Fair enough. Emily had probably moved it to his room. Hiking up the stairs with the cat almost deafening him with her purring, he went straight upstairs to check. And for the first time since he’d left the Shady Lady in agony, felt himself relax. No one was going to take his blood or stick a microscopic camera into his guts. No one was going to wake him at five or insist he eat food fit for a toddler with no taste buds.
This room, like this house, was relaxing. Emily was in the right profession, he realized. She was a relaxing woman who knew how to create a serene atmosphere. He yawned and eyed the big bed with longing. After he’d talked to Anna and then soothed his clients, he’d take a nap.
He glanced around for his cell phone, but it didn’t seem to be in the room. His laptop sat on the roll top desk, the power cord neatly coiled, but his cell phone wasn’t visible.
He pulled open drawers and even checked the closet.
After placing the cat on the bed where she sent him a ‘come join me’ glance that made him grin – she was well named that one – he headed back downstairs in search of Emily.
Naturally she was outside tending her flowers. She’d probably been away from them all of four hours.
“Hey,” he said. “Have you seen my cell?”
She didn’t look at him, but kept snipping off dead blooms. “Did you look in the office?”
“Yes. And in my room. It’s not there.”
“How odd.”
“Very odd. If this were New York I’d figure it was stolen, but out here in never—never land…“ A bad feeling swamped him. Oh, they had their fair share of thefts out here. He’d witnessed one with his own eyes. “Has that klepto been over for tea lately?”
“I wish you wouldn’t call her that,” Emily said, not bothering to turn her head and look at him. She seemed to be awfully busy dead-heading roses.
“I’ll call her something a damn sight worse if she’s messed with my phone. It’s my lifeline. I’ll go crazy without it.”
She mumbled something that sounded like, “Oh, and you’re so sane now,” but he decided to assume he’d heard wrong.
“I’m going over there to get my phone back.”
“You can’t go and yell at her. Anyway, how do you know it’s her? You have no proof.”
Hmmph. “Who else would take it? I’ll go have a look around her place, that’s all. And when I see it I’ll go gaga about how I’ve always wanted one. Especially today. I’ve seen the routine. I know how it works.”
“Well, you can’t go now.” Emily finally turned her head to look at him, shading her eyes against the sun. “She naps in the afternoon. We’ll go together, after dinner. I’ll take her some of my roses. She likes roses.”
“And what am I supposed to do until then?”
“I suggest you follow her example and take a nap yourself.”
“I have to check in with my secretary. Can I use your phone?”
She stared at him a moment as though she were going to argue, then nodded. What was with everyone today?
Emily had never felt guiltier in her life. In trying to save Joe from a heart attack she had an awful suspicion she was giving him one. He emerged from the house not two minutes after he entered it, his face a dangerous shade of dark red. “Your long distance line seems to be down. Did you forget to pay your phone bill?”
She hadn’t thought to ask Harry to mess with her phone; he must have done that on his own initiative. She wondered if they could take incoming calls. She didn’t want to miss business if there was any to be had.
“Of course I’ve paid the bill. There’s no need to insult me. Our system isn’t as efficient as yours.”
“I’m sorry Emily. That was totally out of line. I’m just frustrated. There’s a deal cooking right now. A couple of them.” He blew out a breath, then ran his fingers through his hair so it stuck up in spikes. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You’ve been wonderful to me.”
Oh, why not stick a knife in her arm? She couldn’t feel more guilty and now he was being nice.
When he found out she was to blame for the loss of his cell phone he was going to be pissed. When he found out she was trying to sabotage his business deal, he’d probably blow a gasket. And when he found out that the blown gasket on his rental car was her idea as well…. She didn’t even want to think that far ahead.
“You could try relaxing,” she said.
“I guess.” He was tempted to ask her to come up to bed with him, but he did feel more tired than he cared to admit and he wanted to be in tip top shape the next time he made a move on her. Reluctantly, he told his libido to put a sock in it and, taking her advice, headed upstairs for a nap.
Of course, Mae West was hogging as much of the bed as she could, including most of his pillow. He moved her out of the way, but as soon as he was under the covers she curled herself against the small of his back.
The warmth was comforting. To his surprise he found even the sound of her purring was soothing. He’d sleep now. Not because he was tired, exactly, but to recruit his strength for later. He hoped Emily was taking the opportunity for a nap as well.
She was going to need it.
He had a grin on his face when he fell asleep.
Emily wished Joe was gone, even as she plotted to make him stay. Of course she had to do what she could to save Beaverton, even if that meant conniving to keep a man here against his will.
But every part of her that wasn’t concerned with saving the town wanted him gone. He was too driven, too complicated, and most of all too damned attractive. She didn’t want to be drawn to him; she didn’t want to feel so … twitchy and hyper aware when he was around.
She sighed, wondering where all this was going to end. She had a bad feeling that when Joe figured out what was going on behind his back – which he inevitably would -- there was going to be a lot of yelling. Of which she’d be the main recipient.
She wondered if they’d ever get to have sex -- and if she wanted to any longer.
While she was staring at her rose bushes, lost in thought, Aunt Olive came out of the house in a loose cotton house dress straight out of the fifties. She’d been to Terrea for Old Lady One and now her fairy godmother white hair sat in perfect roller shapes on her head. “What are you doing out here without a sun hat, darling girl?” she said when she saw Emily. “You’ll get skin cancer.”
“Oh, let her be,” Aunt Lydia said, emerging in her wake. “She could use some color. Besides, I read that people stay out of the sun too much these days.”
“Maybe if you read the news instead of Perez Hilton’s Twitter feed you’d have a sensible thought in your head.”
“Hah. You know what I read online? Scientists are working on a kind of chocolate that when you eat it it gives you an orgasm.”
“That would sure save a lot of trouble,” Olive said. “Where do you get that stuff?”
“They haven’t finished inventing it yet.”
“Too bad,” Emily said, though she had a sneaking suspicion she’d rather have a Joe orgasm than a chocolate one. Probably.
“Anyhow, we have something we have to tell you,” Aunt Olive said, looking surprisingly unsure of herself. It was so unlike her that Emily felt panic clutch her chest. “You’re not sick?” she asked glancing from one to the other.
“Now see what you did? You made her worry. I told you we should keep our mouths shut, but when did you ever listen?” Lydia said.
“Tell me what?” Emily demanded.
“We think we might have put Joe in the hospital,” Olive said, with a quiver in he
r voice.
“No, we don’t think that. You think it. I’m telling you Dr. Emmet’s cordial had nothing to do with Joe’s attack.”
“Dr. Emmet’s cordial? Joe? What are you two talking about?”
“I guess I’d better explain,” said Olive, pulling at an aging rose bloom until the petals fell into her hand.
“I guess you’d better cause I sure as hell won’t,” Lydia assured her.
“Dr. Emmet had this cordial he sometimes used to treat a…um, reluctant member.”
“Reluctant member,” Emily repeated, getting a bad feeling about where this was going.
“It was an elixir, specially formulated for a man who couldn’t get it up. Trouble in the old erection shop. No lead in the pencil, a salt-petered peter, a—”
“I get it. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“And what does this cordial have to do with Joe?”
Olive fiddled with the petals in her palm and even Lydia kept quiet. A bee flew by as loud as a fighter jet in the heavy silence.
“Well?”
“We discovered, when we were working with Dr. Emmet, that the cordial had quite an astonishing effect on people who drank it, even if they didn’t have any problems with the initial excitement phase.”
“Oh, would you stop being so mealy mouthed,” Lydia said. “The stuff makes you so horny you’d think somebody’d poured itching powder in your pants. Works on everybody, too. Not just men.”
“You’re not suggesting…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence she was so horrified.
“There was only one bottle left. I would have saved it for my birthday,” Lydia glared at Olive. “But Olive and me wanted to make Joe fall in love with you and stay right here in Beaverton. Well, he’s a good man and he makes a pretty decent living best we can figure.”
“How dare you—”
“Oh, don’t be so coy, girl. Any fool can see from the way you two look at each other that it’s spring time in the Rockies.”
Emily took a breath, tried to remember that Lydia had never taken well to the idea of retiring as a sex healer and that she truly had been just trying to help. “Let’s get back to the cordial for a moment.”