She’s gathered quite a menagerie.”
“No wonder she needs a bit of help, Ian. You know, the Hook and Needle Club is going to donate proceeds from its next festival for the shelter.”
“Don’t expect a hearty thank-you from Carla Callous ,” Ian said.
“That’s what Stella said.” Annie pursed her lips; her eyes softened. “But you’ve got to admit, we owe her something for what she’s doing for the community. Even if it’s not the community she really cares about. And of course, we don’t know what’s in her mind, do we? We don’t know what she cares about.”
“We don’t,” Ian admitted. He paused briefly. “I should add she’s not running a full-fledged city shelter. She doesn’t have a license or anything yet, though she’s working on it. I hear, however, that she’s a qualified veterinarian.”
“Have you taken Tartan there?”
“Uh—no,” Ian said flatly. He’d become more than fond of his patient, sweet-tempered schnauzer with his distinctively bearded snout. “No need to terrify the poor old guy!”
He liked the musical sound of her quick and spontaneous laughter. “Seriously, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover,” Annie said. “I think I’ll drive Tara out there to meet Carla. Can’t hurt.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Ian said with mock seriousness. Then with true seriousness, he said, “Good luck with your mystery tourist, but if you need anything—moral support or anything else, call me.”
“I can always depend on you,” she said, still with a touch of humor, and he hoped, warmth.
“Promise?”
“Promise,” she affirmed.
Ian glanced over to see that Peggy was still engaged in conversation with the guy at the bar. He was a tall, well-built man with hair that hedged his shirt collar. A shiny black lock of hair crept over one eyebrow in the rugged, romantic sort of way he imagined women liked. What little he saw of the face revealed the profile of a man in his late thirties. Ian didn’t recognize the man.
As though the stranger had known he was being studied, he abruptly rose, and without turning to reveal his identity, left the diner, but not before placing a generous tip on the counter and exposing a slow-eyed wink in Peggy’s direction.
“So, are you going to say goodbye?”
Annie’s question jarred Ian. How could he have let one bold stranger distract his attention from her? Not a fair trade at all. “What?” he said distractedly. She had hooked her purse over one delicate shoulder, preparing to leave. “Oh I’m sorry, Annie. I guess I was thinking about something else.” He snatched his check and hers, and stood up.
“Oh, you don’t need to …” she began, reaching for her check.
“Want to,” he said firmly but with a smile he felt down to his feet. “Let me know how your mystery girl gets on with Carla …”
“ Calloway ,” Annie finished for him, giving him a level look, quickly followed by the laugh he had grown to like so much.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said in a tone meant to prove he had been effectively chastised.
9
“Ouch!” Carla snatched her hand away from the owl’s sharp little beak, dropping the fistful of grasshoppers she had brought as breakfast. She hadn’t been foolish enough to open the cage door with her bare hands, but Gomer had pierced the flesh on her wrist between the glove and her flannel shirt.
She’d found the barred owl behind one of the sheds, its tibia broken and the toes of one foot badly mangled. In its search for prey the bird had likely been attacked and become prey himself. It was no easy task to affect a rescue. She’d thrown her wool sweater over it to keep it warm, knowing it was likely to be traumatized by the action. Wild creatures often died from shock rather than from their injuries. But the bird had survived. Soon she might be able to release it back into the wild.
Slightly smaller than a great horned owl with no ear tufts, Gomer was brownish in color with broad
“No wonder she needs a bit of help, Ian. You know, the Hook and Needle Club is going to donate proceeds from its next festival for the shelter.”
“Don’t expect a hearty thank-you from Carla Callous ,” Ian said.
“That’s what Stella said.” Annie pursed her lips; her eyes softened. “But you’ve got to admit, we owe her something for what she’s doing for the community. Even if it’s not the community she really cares about. And of course, we don’t know what’s in her mind, do we? We don’t know what she cares about.”
“We don’t,” Ian admitted. He paused briefly. “I should add she’s not running a full-fledged city shelter. She doesn’t have a license or anything yet, though she’s working on it. I hear, however, that she’s a qualified veterinarian.”
“Have you taken Tartan there?”
“Uh—no,” Ian said flatly. He’d become more than fond of his patient, sweet-tempered schnauzer with his distinctively bearded snout. “No need to terrify the poor old guy!”
He liked the musical sound of her quick and spontaneous laughter. “Seriously, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover,” Annie said. “I think I’ll drive Tara out there to meet Carla. Can’t hurt.”
“Don’t be too sure,” Ian said with mock seriousness. Then with true seriousness, he said, “Good luck with your mystery tourist, but if you need anything—moral support or anything else, call me.”
“I can always depend on you,” she said, still with a touch of humor, and he hoped, warmth.
“Promise?”
“Promise,” she affirmed.
Ian glanced over to see that Peggy was still engaged in conversation with the guy at the bar. He was a tall, well-built man with hair that hedged his shirt collar. A shiny black lock of hair crept over one eyebrow in the rugged, romantic sort of way he imagined women liked. What little he saw of the face revealed the profile of a man in his late thirties. Ian didn’t recognize the man.
As though the stranger had known he was being studied, he abruptly rose, and without turning to reveal his identity, left the diner, but not before placing a generous tip on the counter and exposing a slow-eyed wink in Peggy’s direction.
“So, are you going to say goodbye?”
Annie’s question jarred Ian. How could he have let one bold stranger distract his attention from her? Not a fair trade at all. “What?” he said distractedly. She had hooked her purse over one delicate shoulder, preparing to leave. “Oh I’m sorry, Annie. I guess I was thinking about something else.” He snatched his check and hers, and stood up.
“Oh, you don’t need to …” she began, reaching for her check.
“Want to,” he said firmly but with a smile he felt down to his feet. “Let me know how your mystery girl gets on with Carla …”
“ Calloway ,” Annie finished for him, giving him a level look, quickly followed by the laugh he had grown to like so much.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said in a tone meant to prove he had been effectively chastised.
9
“Ouch!” Carla snatched her hand away from the owl’s sharp little beak, dropping the fistful of grasshoppers she had brought as breakfast. She hadn’t been foolish enough to open the cage door with her bare hands, but Gomer had pierced the flesh on her wrist between the glove and her flannel shirt.
She’d found the barred owl behind one of the sheds, its tibia broken and the toes of one foot badly mangled. In its search for prey the bird had likely been attacked and become prey himself. It was no easy task to affect a rescue. She’d thrown her wool sweater over it to keep it warm, knowing it was likely to be traumatized by the action. Wild creatures often died from shock rather than from their injuries. But the bird had survived. Soon she might be able to release it back into the wild.
Slightly smaller than a great horned owl with no ear tufts, Gomer was brownish in color with broad
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