Cruiser in Park. She leaned back in the seat, taking just a moment to collect herself before she went inside.
The rule of show no weakness around her mother was more important than ever. There would be no pregnancy revelations to anyone else until she told Liam. At least she knew that much.
She took another couple of steady breaths as her eyes focused on the two three-story Victorian houses in front of her.
Harper’s family had moved to Mirabelle fifteen years ago. It was right before she was about to start middle school and she hadn’t been exactly thrilled about leaving her life in Atlanta. But now she couldn’t imagine growing up anywhere else.
The two houses were pretty much smack dab in the middle of downtown and they stood about thirty yards apart. Besides the different paint colors—one sage green, the other dark blue—they were identical in every way.
Well, there was another difference. The green one was a residential home and where Harper lived from the age of eleven to eighteen. The blue was the St. Francis Veterinary Clinic…though a case could be made that Harper had spent almost as much time there as the house.
Her father had inherited the clinic from his uncle, and as it was the only vet in the area, it stayed pretty busy. She’d always been there helping out especially when they’d started the pet adoption/foster portion.
Mirabelle was part of Atticus County, and the only animal shelter in the area was a kill shelter. So for a couple of years, the clinic had been the temporary home to as many cats and dogs that could be taken in and saved from being euthanized. Harper would spend many hours playing with them and giving them as much attention as possible.
These days, there were a number of foster homes that would take in the animals until they were adopted. It was a much better option than them living in cages for weeks on end.
Or being put down.
The St. Francis Foster Pet Adoption program was one of the reasons that Harper needed to stop by her parents’ house. Her mother was putting together baskets for a fund-raiser, and she’d asked for some of Harper’s lotions and oils.
Which was something Harper found beyond interesting.
There were a number of things that Delilah Laurence didn’t approve of, and her daughter’s career choice was near the top. Though this didn’t stop her from hitting Harper up for the homemade “lotions and potions” that everyone else loved, not to mention a donated gift certificate for massage “services rendered” had been requested more times than could be counted.
None of that changed the facts: a massage therapist was not a way to make a living.
The words had never actually been spoken, but Harper was pretty sure that was one of the reasons her mother had liked Brad so much. He was successful. So when her career as a massage therapist failed her “husband” would be able to take care of her.
Not only had that not worked out, but now Harper was pregnant without any husband at all.
Oh, look at that, her anxiety was spiking again.
Well, might as well give herself a small reprieve and go over to see her father before she had to face the firing squad that was her mother. The constant contention that she had with her mother was non-existent in the relationship she had with her father. She was a daddy’s girl through and through.
When she walked inside the clinic she was greeted with the customary squawk of Gabby, the white and yellow cockatoo perched at the currently empty receptionist desk. The bird had been surrendered to the practice ten years ago when the owner died, and was now the unofficial mascot of the practice.
“Hello.” Gabby flapped her wings as she adjusted on the stand.
Harper walked over to her, always the first order of business when she visited, and scratched the bird’s chest. “Hey, pretty girl,” she purred. Gabby’s feathers ruffled in delight at the attention. “Where is everybody?”
“Getting our middle of the day
The rule of show no weakness around her mother was more important than ever. There would be no pregnancy revelations to anyone else until she told Liam. At least she knew that much.
She took another couple of steady breaths as her eyes focused on the two three-story Victorian houses in front of her.
Harper’s family had moved to Mirabelle fifteen years ago. It was right before she was about to start middle school and she hadn’t been exactly thrilled about leaving her life in Atlanta. But now she couldn’t imagine growing up anywhere else.
The two houses were pretty much smack dab in the middle of downtown and they stood about thirty yards apart. Besides the different paint colors—one sage green, the other dark blue—they were identical in every way.
Well, there was another difference. The green one was a residential home and where Harper lived from the age of eleven to eighteen. The blue was the St. Francis Veterinary Clinic…though a case could be made that Harper had spent almost as much time there as the house.
Her father had inherited the clinic from his uncle, and as it was the only vet in the area, it stayed pretty busy. She’d always been there helping out especially when they’d started the pet adoption/foster portion.
Mirabelle was part of Atticus County, and the only animal shelter in the area was a kill shelter. So for a couple of years, the clinic had been the temporary home to as many cats and dogs that could be taken in and saved from being euthanized. Harper would spend many hours playing with them and giving them as much attention as possible.
These days, there were a number of foster homes that would take in the animals until they were adopted. It was a much better option than them living in cages for weeks on end.
Or being put down.
The St. Francis Foster Pet Adoption program was one of the reasons that Harper needed to stop by her parents’ house. Her mother was putting together baskets for a fund-raiser, and she’d asked for some of Harper’s lotions and oils.
Which was something Harper found beyond interesting.
There were a number of things that Delilah Laurence didn’t approve of, and her daughter’s career choice was near the top. Though this didn’t stop her from hitting Harper up for the homemade “lotions and potions” that everyone else loved, not to mention a donated gift certificate for massage “services rendered” had been requested more times than could be counted.
None of that changed the facts: a massage therapist was not a way to make a living.
The words had never actually been spoken, but Harper was pretty sure that was one of the reasons her mother had liked Brad so much. He was successful. So when her career as a massage therapist failed her “husband” would be able to take care of her.
Not only had that not worked out, but now Harper was pregnant without any husband at all.
Oh, look at that, her anxiety was spiking again.
Well, might as well give herself a small reprieve and go over to see her father before she had to face the firing squad that was her mother. The constant contention that she had with her mother was non-existent in the relationship she had with her father. She was a daddy’s girl through and through.
When she walked inside the clinic she was greeted with the customary squawk of Gabby, the white and yellow cockatoo perched at the currently empty receptionist desk. The bird had been surrendered to the practice ten years ago when the owner died, and was now the unofficial mascot of the practice.
“Hello.” Gabby flapped her wings as she adjusted on the stand.
Harper walked over to her, always the first order of business when she visited, and scratched the bird’s chest. “Hey, pretty girl,” she purred. Gabby’s feathers ruffled in delight at the attention. “Where is everybody?”
“Getting our middle of the day
Similar Books
