Maybe they were just too busy with their own lives—Mike getting the twins to bed and Susan preparing for a hearing in one of her cases—but they didn’t seem overly interested in what had been going on in her world. They were satisfied with her quick report about the house and the weather, and accepted without question her news that it would take a bit longer for her to finish her business in Westbury. She nestled into the crisp sheets and was caressed by sleep, as Eve faintly snored at her feet.
Chapter 3
Maggie woke early the next morning, rested and ready to launch into her new life. First priorities were to pick up a rental car and take Eve to the vet for a good once over. She also needed dog food and cleaning supplies. She arranged to get the car at the hotel on the square right after lunch and made an appointment with the nearest vet, Dr. John Allen. It was going to be another cold, sunny day, and she and Eve could walk through the square to his office for their mid-morning appointment.
Maggie uncovered the downstairs furniture before they set out for Eve’s appointment. Rosemont was filled with lovely antiques. Some of the upholstery had seen better days, but it all looked serviceable. Cleaning this place, however, was going to be a huge task.
Maggie fashioned a makeshift collar and leash out of twine that she found in a kitchen drawer, and she and Eve set out into the bright morning. Eve was well mannered on the leash, and Maggie’s heart sank as she worried that Eve might have an owner who would be looking for her. She pushed the thought from her mind as they walked past the storefronts lining the square.
The window of Laura’s Bakery stopped them both in their tracks. A tiered stand showcased elaborately iced cakes flanked by pies sporting flaky, golden crusts. The wonderful aroma of baking bread rolled out into the street. A water dish by the entrance invited Eve to take a drink. A sign in the window announced the town meeting at the Westbury Library on Wednesday night.
As Eve lapped up a long drink, the pretty young woman placing a tray of cupcakes in a case looked up and smiled. Maggie nodded and smiled in return, and the tall, dark-haired woman quickly came to the door and beckoned them both in. “We don’t discriminate against dogs here. She can come in. I’m Laura Fitzpatrick. I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you visiting Westbury?”
“No. I’m in the process of moving here.” Maggie shook Laura’s hand. “Maggie Martin. I inherited Rosemont and arrived here two days ago. I’m going to make Westbury my home.”
“Terrific—how exciting! I’m fairly new here myself. I moved to Westbury three years ago when Pete and I got married. Pete runs the bistro next door. Have you seen it yet? We’re connected right through that doorway past the case. You can get a pastry here and take it next door to eat it with a cup of the best coffee in town. He has live music on Friday and Saturday nights. If you don’t want rowdy dance music, you can go to Pete’s for really good jazz and folk music from local artists. And you can get free Wi-Fi.”
Maggie smiled at the obvious pride that this confident young woman—Susan’s age?—displayed in her business. “You’ll see a lot of me, then. I’m a consultant and am online all day long. I need to get Internet service set up at Rosemont, but I like to get out of the house to work, too. So I’ll be back. And I’ll be hungry,” she assured Laura.
“And who is this?” Laura asked, pointing to Eve.
“I’ve named her Eve,” Maggie said and launched into the tale of their meeting. “We’re headed to Dr. Allen’s right now to get her checked out. I’m pretty attached to her already. I hope she doesn’t have an owner.” Maggie sighed.
“She’s a sweet thing, isn’t she?” Laura observed. “I haven’t seen her around, and we get a lot of dogs in here,” she said, gesturing to the water bowl. “I hope you can keep her. And that the two of you become regulars.” She reached into a jar under the counter and came out with a dog biscuit for Eve. “When you come back, pick a cupcake for yourself, my treat.”
Maggie reluctantly left the warmth of the shop for the chilly street. She glanced at her watch and realized that they would have to hustle to make their appointment on time. Exploring any of the other shops would have to wait.
They set off at a trot, and Maggie reached for the door of the Westbury Animal Hospital as it was being opened by a tall man in a cashmere sport coat wielding a large animal carrier. Maggie stepped back to allow him to pass, but he held the door and insisted she take the right of way. He set his carrier on the floor and got down on one knee to greet Eve. He knows her, Maggie realized as her heart plummeted to her shoes. She paused to collect herself while the man accepted Eve’s effusive greeting. Darn it, she thought, I’m going to have to give her up. Just when I thought things were changing for me. He looks nice and Eve seems to like him, but I wanted her for me. Maggie knew she was being childish but didn’t care. Wasn’t it high time things went her way?
The man turned to Maggie as he stood up. “This dog escaped from the Forever Friends shelter. We’ve been worried sick about her, what with the storm that moved in. I’m so glad she’s well and that you found her,” he said as he reached for the leash.
Maggie took a step back and kept a firm hold on the leash. “So she’s not your dog? She’s up for adoption?” she asked in a voice that radiated relief and hope. Before he could answer, she extended her hand. “I’m Maggie Martin.”
“Frank Haynes,” he answered as he shook her hand. “Yes, she is. Or she will be. We need to have her checked out by the vet here before we put her up for adoption.”
“I was bringing her in to do just that,” Maggie replied. “Why don’t you let me take care of that for you? If she gets the go-ahead from the vet, I’d like to adopt her. Can we arrange that? I’ll pay whatever fee you charge.”
Haynes regarded her thoughtfully. Maggie Martin. He hadn’t heard of her before. Hadn’t seen her around. Attractive, probably in her fifties, articulate and self-assured. Expensively dressed. Probably some self-important professional woman. God—the place was getting overrun by them. Like that insufferable Tonya Holmes on the council. He snapped his attention back to the woman who was eyeing him curiously, waiting for his reply.
“Yes. I’m sure that would be fine.” He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and produced a business card for Forever Friends. “Just call the shelter and they can take care of the paperwork. I’ll let them know we’ve agreed to this arrangement.”
“Thank you so much,” Maggie gushed and shook his hand again warmly. Haynes fought the urge to recoil. “I’m thrilled to have her. We’re starting a new life together.”
At this odd remark, something clicked in Haynes’ computer-like memory. He brought his left hand to grasp their joined hands. “Martin, did you say? Are you related to the late Paul Martin?”
The mention of Paul’s name still sent an unpleasant shiver through Maggie. She tried to withdraw her hand, but he was holding it captive. “Yes. He was my husband. Did you know Paul?”
“My condolences, Mrs. Martin. No. I never met him. I heard you were coming to town to list Rosemont for sale,” he probed, wondering why in the world she would be adopting a dog here to take home to California. Haynes had done his homework. He had admired Rosemont for as long as he could remember. Had walked by it and daydreamed about it as a kid from the wrong side of the tracks and had lusted after it as a wealthy self-made businessman. He was determined to buy it and knew that the owner was a widow who lived in California. With the depressed state of the luxury real estate market, he planned to let it sit on the market for six months and pick it up with a low-ball offer when the stress of maintaining an aging property became too much for the suffering widow. He would let the realtor know he was interested and not to accept any offers without checking with him first. In the unlikely event someone came along to buy the place, he could always come in with a strong cash offer. But no point in overpaying if he didn’t have to.
She was once more regarding him curiously. “Rumors do fly in a small town, don’t they?” she commented as she forc
efully extricated her hand from his grasp. “I’ve decided not to sell Rosemont. I’m going to keep it and move here instead. That’s why I’ve adopted Eve.”
Haynes felt like she had slapped him across the face with the back of her hand. How dare she? Damn it. He wanted that house! If he had Rosemont, everyone in this stinking town would know that he
had made it. No one would look down their nose at his lack of a fancy education or his fast-food franchises, whose menus they criticized but whose convenience they loved. He was tired of feeling like everyone branded him as blue-collar, even though his suits cost thousands of dollars, he donated generously to every sports team and charity and held a spot on that group of idiots they called a town council. Owning Rosemont would bring it all together for him. Before long, people would forget that he hadn’t lived there all along. Haynes realized that he had stopped listening to her. She was rambling on about some stupid job of hers—about how she could work at home—could work anywhere in the country. And a flash of brilliance hit him. Maybe he could move into Rosemont without buying it. He gave this Maggie Martin another going over. She would be considered attractive. Self-sufficient, probably. Maybe it was time for him to reconsider his aversion to remarrying? He involuntarily shuddered at the thought. He’d give it some time. She might grow tired of the house or this town and run back to Southern California with her tail between her legs, and he’d be able to pick up Rosemont even cheaper as a result. The thought positively cheered him.
Haynes forced a smile onto his lips that wasn’t mirrored in the harsh lines around his eyes. “Welcome to Westbury, then. Be sure to stop by the shelter to complete the paperwork for Eve.” Before Maggie could respond, the technician signaled that it was time for Eve’s appointment. Haynes turned on his heel and strode out the door.
***
Maggie’s first impression of John Allen, DVM, was of a man with a gentle nature and deep, abiding kindness. He was of medium height, with a strong frame that gave him a substantial appearance. Dark hair, graying at the temples, and clear blue eyes. In his mid-fifties? She instantly liked him.
“How can I help you?” Dr. Allen asked after introducing himself.
Maggie told him she was in the process of moving to Westbury and once again repeated her tale of how she first met Eve. “I’ve been worried that she had an owner, but I ran into a man on the way in here that said she escaped from a rescue shelter and if she checks out by you, I can adopt her.”
“Ah, yes. That would be Frank Haynes. He’s the driving force behind the shelter. Okay—let’s get her on the exam table and take a look. She doesn’t seem the worse for wear after spending the night out in that storm.”
Maggie held the squirming dog while the vet took Eve’s vital signs and began his exam. “Has she been eating and drinking?”
“Yes—just fine. And she’s housebroken. How old do you think she is? Is she full grown?”
Dr. Allen examined her white, smooth teeth. “She’s a young dog—full grown—but probably only a year or eighteen months old. Still a lot of puppy left in her. She’s tolerating all of this very well. You’ll want to get her spayed as soon as you can. She’ll live longer and be healthier if you do. You’re not going to breed her?”
“Absolutely not. I’ll be returning to California next week. Can I have that done while I’m gone? I’ll be away for about ten days. Is that too long to leave her here? Do you do boarding?”
“We do. That should work just fine.”
Maggie took Eve in her arms and nuzzled her neck. John thought the dog would bring her a great deal of happiness, as pets often did for lonely people. Including himself.
“I’ve never owned a dog before. I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “Can you give me a crash course on what I need to know? Do you have a pamphlet or something?” she asked, casting her eyes around the exam room.
What a sweet, open spirit, he thought to himself. Who is this gorgeous woman that just stepped into my world?
He laughed. “It’s not complicated: yearly shots, dog food twice a day. No people food or scraps,” he warned sternly, figuring her to be a light touch to a begging animal. “Grooming and walks, and you’ve pretty much got it covered. You’ll be a pro in no time,” he assured her. “Can you leave her with me for the day? We’ll check her over completely, give her shots and a bath. I’ll send you home with a sample of dog food, and you can get more if she likes it. Can you pick her up between four and five?”
Maggie heaved a sigh of relief. “That will be perfect. And can you put a microchip in her for me? We’ve both just moved into Rosemont,” she stated, thinking again that she really was going to do this—just pull up stakes and relocate her life to Westbury.
Maggie left Eve in the capable custody of the Westbury Animal Hospital and stepped out into the brisk late morning. She decided to pick up a sandwich at Pete’s. Laura greeted her like an old friend, and already she was beginning to feel like she was a part of this place.
As she ate, she started a mental list of the many tasks ahead of her. She dreaded telling the realtor, who had been delighted at the prospect of listing Rosemont. She toyed with the idea of calling him, but decided that would be cowardly and he deserved to be told face to face. Maggie wanted to get off on the right foot in Westbury, and realtors knew everybody in a small town. She’d get it over with after lunch.
***
The car was ready as promised and, after providing vague answers to a flurry of nosey questions from the rental agency clerk, she plucked Tim Knudsen’s card from her wallet, entered his address in the car’s GPS, and set off. She arrived fifteen minutes early, but Tim was waiting for her and ushered her into his office.
Maggie quickly got to the point. “I’m terribly sorry to have wasted your time, but I’ve decided to keep Rosemont. I’m going to live there full time.”
Tim looked surprised, but if he was disappointed, he didn’t let on. “Rosemont is one of the most distinct properties in this area. I’ve admired it since I was a little boy. The best outcome is for it to remain the private home of someone who appreciates it. There’s been speculation over the years that it would become an assisted-living facility or bed and breakfast. I wouldn’t want either of those.”
Maggie settled into her chair, relieved at his good-natured loss of a lucrative listing and that he wasn’t trying to change her mind by bringing up all of the obvious challenges to maintaining the historic home and spacious grounds.
“I never met your late husband. My condolences on his death. Will you be working here in Westbury?” Tim was obviously interested in this development. Like all realtors, he was a repository of the history and news of his area. He sensed that he had a scoop in the making.
“I’m a consultant. My clients are all over the country and I work from home,” she said. “I’m going to spend the next week trying to get Rosemont cleaned up. Then I’ll go back to California to pack up my house and put it on the market.”
Tim thoughtfully considered this information and offered to help her with referrals to any services she would need. “Surely you’re not going to clean that entire house by yourself? Would you like me to arrange housekeepers to come out? Even with an experienced crew, it will take the best part of a week to clean that place. And the finest handyman around is Sam Torres,” he opined.
Maggie smiled at the mention of Sam’s name. She told him about meeting Sam and having Sunday supper at the Torres home.
“That sounds just like them. People around here are decent and generous and kind. You’ll like it here,” Tim assured her.
“I’d be very grateful if you could arrange housekeepers. That’ll free me up to start making arrangements for my move here,” she said.
“Will do. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. Do you have children at home?”
“No. My children are grown and gone, and I live alone. Correction—I adopted a stray dog two days ago, and she and I will be Rosemont’s official residents.”
&n
bsp; If Tim thought it was odd that this accomplished woman was so anxious to abandon a well-ordered life in the social elite, he didn’t let on. They parted with his promise to get back to her in the morning with arrangements for the cleaning crew.
***
Maggie headed into the Westbury Animal Hospital lobby shortly before five. John Allen led out a buffed-and-fluffed Eve, wearing a proper collar and leash. “Oh, my gosh. I completely forgot about getting them for her. I guess I’m not a very good dog mommy!”
“Don’t worry about it. Consider them a welcome gift,” he said, handing her the leash. “She’s in fine shape. She shouldn’t have any reactions to her shots. They’ve got her paperwork and dog food samples at the front desk.”
Maggie got down on one knee to accept Eve’s enthusiastic greeting. “Thank you very much, Dr. Allen,” she said, looking up and flashing him a warm smile.
“Let me know if you need anything or have any questions. You’ll be fine. Just stay away from feeding her people food,” he reminded her.
“Will do,” she said, smiling back at him over her shoulder as she and Eve headed to the desk.
Dr. John Allen felt an unexpected jolt of happiness as he regarded his new patient and her fascinating owner.
***
Tim was as good as his word, and at eight o’clock the next morning he called to tell Maggie he would be over in an hour with a cleaning crew to get Rosemont whipped into shape. The crew was composed of four young Amish women. Beautiful girls with clear skin and long locks wound into buns under their hairnets.
Evidently they had been working together for some time because they quickly unloaded their supplies and sprang into concerted action without direction from Maggie.
Coming to Rosemont Page 4