2. Christian
Overpowering barks make conversation with my vet tech difficult, but not impossible, the two of us doing this dance for years.
“Get him in the crate.” I gesture wildly in case she can’t hear my words, and she seems to understand my movements, taking the unsettled Great Dane toward the waiting area for his owner.
I toss the dog a treat, and he finally stops howling, licking his chops, his tail wagging merrily before following the tech out of the examination room. For two minutes, I relish in the silence as I disinfect the room for the next patient, straightening the mini-Christmas tree that was knocked down by his overexuberant tail, my eyes noting the time.
It’s almost lunchtime, thankfully. I missed breakfast this morning, rolling out of bed late as usual, and I’m starving. More and more, I’m looking forward to my breaks, not my appointments. The monotony of it all is getting to me.
Doing a last-minute once-over of the room, I message the front desk that I am ready for Rupert. I do a double-take on the screen.
Rupert. Who is Rupert now?
I scroll through the tablet in my hands, and I frown as I realize I have no information on the Golden Retriever except his breed type and age. He’s a fresh addition to Spruce Crossing Veterinary Clinic, despite being five years old.
That’s odd. I know all the pets in town. With a population of fifteen hundred, I’m the only vet, and only one of three in the county.
My eyes dart toward the owner’s name at the top of the tablet, but before I can register the information, there’s a knock on the door.
The assistant appears with a panting, shiny-coated Golden who bounds toward me with a lolling tongue. He licks my hand eagerly as I take hold of his bold red collar to scoop him up onto the table, barely noticing his owner.
“Hello, Rupert,” I laugh, falling back as I realize he weighs more than I initially thought. For his medium size, he’s sturdy. He licks my face again.
“Hi, Christian.”
The unexpected call of my given name, not my surname, turns my head upward, my breath catching as I stare at familiar almond-shaped eyes, the long, dark lashes hiding the caramel-toned irises beneath. Her dark hair is swept into a messy bun on her head, tendrils falling over the white lapel of her coat, accenting the smooth olive tone of her complexion.
“Ava?” I choke, my smile fading and then growing. “It was you I saw the other night!”
She grins at me, that million-watt smile I remember from high school brightening the room as she slips off her matching gloves and helps me put Rupert onto the exam table.
“You saw me somewhere?” she questions, her brow knitting into a vee as if she can’t imagine where that might have been.
“At Wild Sage. For their Christmas season kickoff party,” I sputter, still stunned to see her. “That’s my best friend’s restaurant, Mason Adler. You were there, weren’t you?”
She nods. “I was, but I didn’t stay long. However, everything looked delicious. I wasn’t really in the ‘going out’ mood. I didn’t see you.”
Shaking my head in disbelief, I study her pretty features, unable to wipe the grin off my face. “No one told me you were back.”
She’s grown up so much since high school, and the maturity and seriousness of her eyes instantly put me at ease. Wow! Ava Norwood. I never thought I’d see this former girlfriend again. If I can call her that. Our relationship barely lasted two months before I left for college in Spokane.
I haven’t been able to shake the vision of Ava Norwood out of my skull since glimpsing her at Wild Sage that night, but she disappeared so fast, I thought I was imagining things. It’s nice to know I’m not completely losing my mind. “When did you get back in town?”
Rupert leaps up, and I laugh, catching his paws to set him down. My vet tech clears her throat, and I realize she’s still in the room. “That’s all for now,” I tell her. “I’ll let you know if I need you for anything.”
When the door closes again, I turn my full attention back on Ava, but her smile has faded, her eyes fixed on Rupert. “He’s not up to date on his shots,” she informs me. “I left Boise too quickly to take him to his usual vet.”
“Oh… well, that’s no problem,” I reply, slightly confused by her admission. “We’ll get Rupert fixed up in no time, won’t we?”
The dog releases a small bark of approval, and I lock him onto the table by the red studded collar, ensuring he won’t take a flying leap off the table. Turning toward the medicine fridge, I cast Ava another glance over my shoulder. “You’re here to stay? You’re living here now?”
“Yes.”
Her response gives me an inexplicable shiver of pleasure, and I covertly try to look for a wedding ring on her finger. I see nothing.
“You’re at your mom’s place?” I ask.
“Yep.”
Her one-word answers bother me, like I’m asking her too many questions.
“I just never thought you were going to come back.” I can’t help myself.
“Well, here I am.” This time, I’m rewarded with a small smile.
I load up the injections for Rupert’s vaccinations and pull out a handful of treats before returning to the table, scratching the dog behind the ears with one hand as I distract him with treats. Seamlessly, I insert the needles into his shoulders, and the animal doesn’t flinch, accepting his treat as Ava watches me appreciatively.
“You’re good,” she comments. “Usually, he puts up a big stink.”
“This guy?” I ask, rubbing his soft, golden fur. “Impossible. He’s a perfect gentleman.” I unclip him from the table and help him onto the floor, allowing Ava to take his leash. “I’m just about to grab some lunch,” I tell her. “Want to leave Rupert in the doggy daycare and join me? The Maple Leaf Diner still does a killer all-day breakfast.”
“You have a doggy daycare?” she asks, interest coloring her face.
“Of course. Spruce Crossing Veterinary Clinic is a full-service practice. Boarding, grooming, daycare—all your pet needs,” I say, making a sweeping gesture with my hands. “And we tend to wildlife, too, in case you chance across a wounded raccoon or a bear.”
“If I come across a wounded raccoon or bear, I’m leaving it right where it is, thank you very much,” Ava quips back.
I laugh. “Fair enough. What about lunch, then?”
“I wish I could, but I have to get back to the bakery. I left the baker there alone,” she answers quickly. “And it’s busy.”
Perplexed, I walk her to the door. “Oh… is your mom away?”
She gives me a strange look as I open the door, and my tech enters. “All done in here?”
“Yeah. I’m going to lunch,” I tell her. By the time I turn back to Ava, she’s halfway to the front desk to settle her bill, but I rush forward to stop the receptionist from charging her for the visit.
“No charge for Rupert today,” I inform them. “New client discount.”
I wink at Ava, and she smiles weakly. “Are you sure? I can pay.”
“Of course. But I’d love to catch up with you now that you’re back in town. Maybe we can do dinner or?—?”
“I’m going to be pretty swamped over the next few weeks,” she replies, guiding Rupert toward the exit. “It’s the busiest time of year at the bakery, and I’ve got the Holiday Baking Competition to prepare for.”
My grin returns, and I nod, remembering that her mother always wins that contest. “Are you doing that this year? Your mom is really a force to be reckoned with when it comes to that competition.”
Her mouth opens and then closes as if she wants to say something and changes her mind.
“Good to see you, Christian. Thank you for taking care of Rupert.” She offers another small smile and heads out of the office. I stare after her, feeling like I’ve said something wrong. Swallowing a sigh, I tell my staff I’m heading to lunch.
Forsaking my gray Suburban parked behind my practice on Carver Street, I choose to walk toward the diner on Main Street, embracing the frigid winter air as I move. Truthfully, I’m hoping to sneak another glance at Ava, since the bakery is only two doors down from the diner. Hopefully, she’s not going home to drop off the dog first. But the more I think about it, the more I realize she can’t bring an over-excited dog into a bakery.
Little kids in multi-colored snowsuits frolic along the front lawns of houses, building snowmen and creating snow angels amongst the freshly fallen dusting. It’s a commonplace scene in my hometown, but it never gets old, maybe because one day I hope my own children will join the pitter-patter of little crunching boots on snow here, a thought I hadn’t entertained a few years ago.
But my father”s death brought me back to Spruce Crossing at my mother’s behest. Her concern for the family veterinarian practice outweighed my desire to stay in Bozeman after veterinary school. I’d even considered returning to Spokane, where I went to college. But I was able to work in Bozeman for a year before I needed to come home.
I think I made the right choice by returning to Spruce Crossing, but sometimes I wonder if it’s not too small for my ambitions—or to create a name of my own. Hargrove means my father, my mother, my grandparents. I’m an afterthought in Spruce Crossing. Just another Hargrove in the mix.
I stop at the intersection, heeding the stop sign, but there are no cars waiting for me to cross over to Main Street as I strain toward Sweet Treats. A quick scan of the street doesn’t produce Amanda Norwood’s splashy yellow pickup, which has become a staple around town, indicating that she’s not in the bakery today. I take a few seconds to realize that I haven’t seen Amanda’s car in several days, maybe even a week or more.
Maybe she’s on vacation. That’s why Ava’s here.
Without being too obvious, I cross and head into the Maple Leaf Diner, familiar odors making my mouth water the second my snowy boots hit the wet welcome mat.
Twangy Christmas music pipes out from the speakers, and I remove my woolen hat, static pulling my hair in every direction as a plate of sizzling bacon and eggs rolls past me on the arm of a skilled server. Their all-day breakfast is true and dear to my heart. My gaze trails toward the wide, magnificent view of the front window that displays the full mountainous range beyond the town, capturing the sleek, white blankets of snow on everything.
“Dr. Hargrove!” the hostess smiles at me, fluttering her eyes flirtatiously. “Window or fireplace?”
“Either is fine,” I reply, shrugging out of my coat and draping it over my arm as I’m led into the cozy, cabin-style restaurant. More distinct notes of Christmas music fall into my ears as I’m sat near the floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace in the center of the room, the heat source also acting as an anchor. Before I can perch onto the wooden chair, I catch sight of Mia Adler and Violet Whitaker sitting by the spectacular view window, poring over menus.
“Thanks,” I say absently, leaving my coat and heading toward the women who haven’t seen me yet. I’m at the table before my best friend’s wife, Mia, looks up, a warm smile touching her lips. Violet barely glances at me as she continues to read, as if she has not already memorized every dish on the menu, like everyone else in town.
“Christian!” Mia says when she sees me. “Pull up a seat.”
Violet nods in agreement, gesturing at the seat beside her, and I glance back at my lonely table by the stone fireplace. “You don’t mind? I’m not interrupting a girl’s afternoon or anything?”
“Don’t be silly,” Mia chuckles. “We haven’t even ordered yet.”
I hurry back to grab my coat and hat, let the server know of the change, then sit with the women.
“Aren’t you working today?” Mia asks, studying my scrubs.
“Yep. Just grabbing a quick bite to eat, and then back to the trenches,” I reply, turning my attention to Violet. “I got an interesting visitor earlier.”
Violet doesn’t seem to hear me, her eyes still fixed on the words in front of her.
“Violet!” I call out.
She glances up at me. “Yeah? What? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
“Did you know that Ava Norwood is back in town?”
Violet’s face perks up, her hazel eyes widening at the mention. Like me, she grew up in Spruce Crossing, all of us attending high school together, even though I was older. Violet and Ava were good friends back in the day, although I don’t know what their relationship is like now.
“Of course, Christian.” She eyes me, like it’s strange I don’t know this piece of town gossip.
“Of course?” I laugh. “Is that your way of saying I’m out of the loop?”
Violet nods, confirming that I should have heard this information by now. “Amanda just up and retired. She basically said she was done with Sweet Treats and handed the keys to Ava. Then she took off to Florida—to Tampa, I think.”
I’m shocked by the information. Amanda loves her little bakery, and Ava has been gone for almost a decade.
“Why?” I sputter.
“It was sudden. I don’t really know the details,” Violet says. “But the bakery was closed for several days. Didn’t you notice? I’ve reached out to Ava a couple of times, but she’s been so busy, trying to figure out how to run the business. I’m thinking about going to the bakery to catch up, but she probably just needs a little more time to get settled.”
“I actually stopped in today when I saw that the bakery was open,” Mia offers. “That cinnamon bread alone…” She licks her lips. “Ava looks just like she did in high school. I mean, she’s ten years older than when I saw her last, but she looks great.”
“I had no idea that her mom left,” I say to Ava and Violet, humiliated that I didn’t hear the news. In a town as small as Spruce Crossing, it’s not the type of thing that is easily kept under wraps. Why didn’t Ava mention it?
I think about how I babbled on about her mother when she was at the office with Rupert, and heat creeps up my neck. No wonder she gave me that look. I went on and on like an idiot.
Suddenly, I’m not hungry anymore.
As the server returns to the table, I rise again, both women reaching out to me imploringly to stay, but I shake my head.
“You go ahead,” I urge, flashing them a taut smile. “I’ll catch up with you two next time. Tell Mason I’ll pop by Wild Sage later on.”
“I will,” Mia sighs.
Hurrying out of the Maple Leaf Diner, I’m upset with myself, and with Ava for not having told me about her mother leaving town. She is going to need all the help she can get. I know a little something about filling big footprints.