A Much Younger Man - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,75
on for today?”
“You sound like you’re doing better.”
“It’s amazing what a good night’s sleep will do for you.” Not that I got one.
After I got home, I lay in bed for over an hour thinking about things. Why was I so enchanted by Beck and not Dylan? Was it just his youth and looks that attracted me? Was I that guy? Why wasn’t I content to stay in my own lane?
“Today looks like it’s going to be slow. You’ve got time to get a cup of coffee before your eight o’clock comes in.” She held out a file.
“Thanks.” On the way back to my office, I heard Travis and April talking about the reporters. “I heard you guys hid. I was not so lucky.”
“That woman died,” said April. “The whole thing is so sad. Do you think they’ll charge the son with manslaughter or murder?”
“No way to tell.” I glanced through the file on the cat we were going to see. “Humans are above my pay grade.”
“Not our department.” Travis nodded. “You think the police will want to talk to us?”
“It’s a possibility.” One I hadn’t even thought of. “If they do, stick with evidence-based fact and not supposition. We came onto the scene long after the argument, therefore, we have no firsthand knowledge that would shed light on their situation. We speak to the condition we found the animals in and nothing else.”
“Got it.” April jammed her hands into her pockets. “That was bad enough.”
“Just another day in paradise,” Travis muttered. “I need coffee.”
The rest of the morning went smoothly. I got into the groove by midafternoon when we were ready to shut things down. I even serenaded Iguana Bill while I cleaned the abscess beneath his eye.
“There. All tidied up. I took a sample to see what’s causing this.” Bill’s fifteen-year-old owner, Tilly, looked much relieved. “Lena will call you.”
“Okay.” Tilly beamed at me. “Thanks, Dr. Lindy.”
Bill was my last patient of the day. Now I had to answer the big question. Should I go to the resort early for my visit with the folks or stick to just seeing them at dinner? Since the resort was so nice, I decided I’d like to go over there now. Besides the spa and restaurant, they had a lush, private garden that people from all over used as a wedding venue. From there you could make your way down to the beach and walk along the sand. The place was lovely, serene, and maybe exactly what I needed today.
I texted my Dad to tell him to expect me around four.
He sent a thumbs up emoji and a few smiley faces.
On my way home, I stopped for coffee. Of course, when I stepped out onto the patio to look for a nice place to relax and drink it, who should be sitting there but Beck and Callie with a pair of bichon frises I recognized as belonging to the Fairchilds.
The sight of him froze me. I must have looked like an idiot, standing there uncertain whether I should join him, but I truly didn’t know what to do.
He made it easy for me by reaching out one long leg and kicking the chair opposite him with his foot to indicate I should sit there.
It scraped across the polished concrete until I took it and sat.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi.” He eyed me cautiously. “Just off work?”
I nodded. “Fridays are half days.”
Silence fell all around us. That might have been my imagination.
“Are those Ajax Fairchild’s dogs?” I asked.
“Yeah. Well, they belong to his grandpa. You know him?”
“I know Ajax. He’s the one who brought them in when they moved here. They look good.”
“They just got out of the groomer.” He wrinkled his nose. “They smell like potpourri.”
I reached down and picked one up. “They’re sweet. Don’t know how he tells them apart.”
Beck picked up the other dog. “This little girl has an orange collar. Yours has pink.”
I set her in my lap and petted her while sipping my coffee with my free hand. “So you’re dog walking for the Fairchild household?”
“Not just that. Dmytro and Ajax are taking the girls to LA for a week, and they hired me to stay with Mr. Fairchild the elder while they’re gone. He’s pretty self-sufficient, but they want someone around in case he needs help.”
“That’s cool. They have one of the best views in town.”
“They do.” He quirked a brow. “Have you met Dmytro and his daughters?”
“Not yet.”
“He was married before. He’s almost forty, and Ajax is