up a little more for some occasion and adding a bit of makeup to change your looks. Nothing invasive like surgery. You’re too smart, and pretty, for that.”
I shut my mouth again. She had me pegged. Except for the pretty part. I’m not horrible looking, but I’m fairly average.
“That should be one interesting doctor’s appointment,” she finished. “Wish I could at least go along, but that might add to any suspicion. Just be sure to let me know how it goes. And Lauren?” I looked at her. “I still don’t like it.”
Chapter 10
It turned out that the doctors in Miles’s office were not taking appointments for the next day, which was Friday. In fact, when I called that afternoon from my office at HotRescues, the receptionist sounded weepy when she told me that, at the best of times, appointments were usually not available for a week or more. Now, due to a death in their professional family, this was the worst of times.
That gave me an even better idea of the snobbery undoubtedly at work there along with the plastic surgeons’ knives. People who actually wanted to have wrinkles cosmetically altered or lips collagened into frozen pouts would probably believe that, if they had to wait for an appointment, those who could do it best were in high demand.
Maybe they genuinely were—although that made meshake my head, with its unaltered features, in incomprehension.
As I talked on the phone, I eyed my computer screen, viewing the list of files I had created for Bella’s situation. How could I start filling in blanks if I had to wait for eons to talk to people in the office where Miles had worked?
“I do have a cancellation on Monday, though,” the receptionist said after a pause. “For Dr. Santoval. I think she’ll be seeing patients again then, although …” Her voice tapered off.
“I heard on the news about what happened to Dr. Frankovick.” I lowered my voice with sympathy. “Such a terrible situation. I’m sure you’re all in mourning.” She was unlikely to be the object of my planned inquiry, but getting anyone to talk could lead to something helpful.
“Yes, we are.” Her response was a combination of hoarseness and sob, and I perversely felt tears rush to my eyes. I knew what it was like to mourn someone. Despite Miles Frankovick’s attitude toward saving pets and his treatment of Bella, he’d undoubtedly left behind some oblivious people who cared that he was gone. Like his staff. His coworkers—and maybe particularly Dr. Santoval, if her performance on the news wasn’t just an act.
“But life must go on, I guess,” the receptionist continued bravely. “It’ll be hard around here, but we were told that the best way to deal with what happened to Dr. Frankovick is to continue on as well as we can, in his memory. So—well, we did happen to have a cancellation. If you could come in at ten in the morning on Monday … ?”
“Yes,” I said, and gave her my name and cell phone number. I didn’t have to reveal that I was the director of ano-kill animal shelter like Dr. Frankovick’s ex-wife. But even if they learned who I was, I could still genuinely want to have cosmetic surgery done to improve my looks.
My horrified rejection of the whole idea would not show up on any Web site if they Googled me.
The weekend went fast. Maybe it was because time always seemed to pass quickly these days when my kids were around. I managed to see Kevin now and then between his get-togethers with friends. As always, I remarked—internally and nostalgically—about how much he resembled his dad. Kerry had been tall and slim, with deep red-brown hair and a ready laugh. That also described my sweet, smart son.
I was glad I got to cook a meal at home for him on Sunday night. That way, I spent a couple of extra hours with him.
Kevin was aware that I was training for a marathon, even got to see Matt and me run with our dogs a little before he’d taken off to join his friends on Sunday morning. He was
I shut my mouth again. She had me pegged. Except for the pretty part. I’m not horrible looking, but I’m fairly average.
“That should be one interesting doctor’s appointment,” she finished. “Wish I could at least go along, but that might add to any suspicion. Just be sure to let me know how it goes. And Lauren?” I looked at her. “I still don’t like it.”
Chapter 10
It turned out that the doctors in Miles’s office were not taking appointments for the next day, which was Friday. In fact, when I called that afternoon from my office at HotRescues, the receptionist sounded weepy when she told me that, at the best of times, appointments were usually not available for a week or more. Now, due to a death in their professional family, this was the worst of times.
That gave me an even better idea of the snobbery undoubtedly at work there along with the plastic surgeons’ knives. People who actually wanted to have wrinkles cosmetically altered or lips collagened into frozen pouts would probably believe that, if they had to wait for an appointment, those who could do it best were in high demand.
Maybe they genuinely were—although that made meshake my head, with its unaltered features, in incomprehension.
As I talked on the phone, I eyed my computer screen, viewing the list of files I had created for Bella’s situation. How could I start filling in blanks if I had to wait for eons to talk to people in the office where Miles had worked?
“I do have a cancellation on Monday, though,” the receptionist said after a pause. “For Dr. Santoval. I think she’ll be seeing patients again then, although …” Her voice tapered off.
“I heard on the news about what happened to Dr. Frankovick.” I lowered my voice with sympathy. “Such a terrible situation. I’m sure you’re all in mourning.” She was unlikely to be the object of my planned inquiry, but getting anyone to talk could lead to something helpful.
“Yes, we are.” Her response was a combination of hoarseness and sob, and I perversely felt tears rush to my eyes. I knew what it was like to mourn someone. Despite Miles Frankovick’s attitude toward saving pets and his treatment of Bella, he’d undoubtedly left behind some oblivious people who cared that he was gone. Like his staff. His coworkers—and maybe particularly Dr. Santoval, if her performance on the news wasn’t just an act.
“But life must go on, I guess,” the receptionist continued bravely. “It’ll be hard around here, but we were told that the best way to deal with what happened to Dr. Frankovick is to continue on as well as we can, in his memory. So—well, we did happen to have a cancellation. If you could come in at ten in the morning on Monday … ?”
“Yes,” I said, and gave her my name and cell phone number. I didn’t have to reveal that I was the director of ano-kill animal shelter like Dr. Frankovick’s ex-wife. But even if they learned who I was, I could still genuinely want to have cosmetic surgery done to improve my looks.
My horrified rejection of the whole idea would not show up on any Web site if they Googled me.
The weekend went fast. Maybe it was because time always seemed to pass quickly these days when my kids were around. I managed to see Kevin now and then between his get-togethers with friends. As always, I remarked—internally and nostalgically—about how much he resembled his dad. Kerry had been tall and slim, with deep red-brown hair and a ready laugh. That also described my sweet, smart son.
I was glad I got to cook a meal at home for him on Sunday night. That way, I spent a couple of extra hours with him.
Kevin was aware that I was training for a marathon, even got to see Matt and me run with our dogs a little before he’d taken off to join his friends on Sunday morning. He was
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