It Happened in L.A.. Lori Wilde
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Quintessential Victorian, yet one hundred percent pet safe. A romantic, floral stencil covered the walls, which meant no loose wallpaper seams to entice curious animals to pull.
On the bed laid a heavily embossed, yet easily laundered matelassé coverlet. Every piece of furniture was tall, with open access underneath for pets to retreat to, if they so pleased. Bed steps allowed older pets, and more petite guests, to settle in for the evening with little effort—a feature Abby was particularly happy to see. Needing a running head start in order to leap into bed was not her idea of a nightcap.
Safety covers protected electrical outlets so wayward paws and curious noses didn’t poke where they shouldn’t. The room was free of lace so small nails wouldn’t snag. Nothing dangled to beguile its furry occupants.
Pet guests received a Mazie’s Bed & Biscuit placemat under their elevated food dishes. Amenities included fresh food bowls twice daily, filtered spring water and a dog-walking service, in case a pet owner was out longer than expected. Mazie brought the term creature comforts to an entirely new level, emphasizing the importance of pets to their human counterparts. Abby could use more people like Mazie on the hospital board, then maybe she’d get somewhere.
“I wish I had some answers, Duffy.” Soft snores emanated from the stretched-out form next to her. “Oh, sure, sleep your way through my troubles.”
Abby hated the abrupt way she had left her job the other day, but the combination of her defeat and Walter’s note had gotten the best of her. A break to reevaluate her situation was in order.
Physical therapy was her lifeblood, and she wanted to give her patients every opportunity to improve their lives. She had devoted seven years of school and two years in the field to helping others, and she refused to settle. She just hadn’t found the winning combination to sway the hospital to use pet therapy, but Abby was confident they’d see things her way eventually. Failure was not an option.
She checked the clock. It was an hour later in South Carolina than Ramblewood, but she took the chance her supervisor would still be working. The phone rang twice. “Physical Therapy, Angela speaking.”
“Hello, it’s Abby.” She peeked out the window and admired a couple holding hands as they crossed the street. “How are my patients doing?”
“Hey, girl.” Angela’s voice sounded tired. “They’re good. They keep asking about you, though. You did take off rather suddenly.”
“I know, but it couldn’t be helped. Please tell everyone I’m thinking of them. Has there been any further improvement with Donald Davis?”
“Some,” Angela sighed. “Although he isn’t as cooperative with the other therapists.”
Abby groaned. She felt horrible for abandoning her patients without explanation, but she knew they were in capable hands. Her colleagues were some of the best in the state, and many of them supported her bid for animal-assisted therapy. No matter their qualifications, some of her long-term inpatients had a harder time adjusting to another therapist. And in Donald’s case, he had a tendency to get downright ornery with anyone other than Abby.
“Donald has more respect for people who don’t let him get away with any crap, despite the arguments that may ensue. You just let him know I expect him to be on his best behavior or he’ll have to answer to me when I return.” That alone should bring a smile to the elderly man’s face. “I know I left everyone in the lurch, but I had to do this.”
“I know you did.” Angela was more than her supervisor, she was a close friend. “How are you doing?”
“You know me.” Abby paced to the other side of the room. “Keeping busy. I’m in Texas following up on Walter’s mystery note.”
“Oh Abby,” Angela said. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I came here to find answers. I may or may not be looking in the right place, but at least I’m doing something about it instead of playing the wondering game.”
Abby sat on the bed steps, drawing her knees to her chest. She’d been a toddler when her mother had married Steve Winchester, and she had no recollection of the event. The day her brother was born five years later, though, that was another story. She’d never forget that wonderful day. Abby had doted on Wyatt from the beginning. Although, she had always felt like an outsider when she saw him and their parents together. Wyatt was their biological child, and even though Steve had raised her as his own, it still bothered Abby that she’d never know the feeling of belonging the way Wyatt did. There were too many what-ifs surrounding Walter’s note and she was afraid they’d consume her if she didn’t look for the truth.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for.” Angela’s words competed with another voice through the phone. Hearing a muffled sound, Abby suspected that Angela had covered the mouthpiece. “I’m sorry, I have to go. You’d better keep me posted.”
“I will.” Abby hung up, climbed onto the bed and lay back on the pillows. She missed her patients, the interaction, the progress they made and the determination that drove them further each day. But she wasn’t about to feel sorry for herself. She’d witnessed far too many of her patients battling horrific injuries and overcoming major obstacles so they could live fully again. Their situations were why Abby refused to allow the phrase self-pity to enter her vocabulary.
She glanced at her snoozing dog. “I think you have the right idea, Duffy.”
Abby closed her eyes, and her thoughts immediately drifted to Clay. Naturally, she had noticed how tall, muscular and downright sexy he was, but more importantly, he held the key to her future. Abby thought back to what Clay had told her at The Magpie. If he found her sister, the woman may not want Abby to know anything about her. Abby’s search would be over without a single answer. That scenario had never crossed her mind. Could she live with that? Abby didn’t think so.
She turned onto her side and ran her hand down Duffy’s back. Maybe Kay did have a point about exploring what Ramblewood had to offer. Abby wouldn’t mind running into the single P.I. tonight. Maybe he’d show her around the town her parents had once called home. Ramblewood was part of her past and she might as well make the best of her trip.
The shrill of her cell phone startled her. The number for CT Investigations splayed across the screen. Had Clay found her sister already?
* * *
AFTER SEARCHING THE courthouse and town hall for information about Abby’s sister—and turning up nothing—Clay headed home. Fortunately, he had managed to wrap up another case, so at least the trip wasn’t a total loss. Placing Abby’s ornate file folder on the counter, he groaned. Why couldn’t he shake her from his mind? He dug his phone out of his pocket and flipped open the folder. Before he could change his mind about calling, Abby answered.
“So soon?” Her voice burst through the earpiece.
“Excuse me?” Clay asked. What did she mean by soon? Did he break one of those female rules that said he had to wait a certain amount of time before calling? They’d had a lunch meeting, not a date. He didn’t think those rules applied here.
“I can’t believe you have something already,” Abby said. “Did you find my sister?”
“Um, no. Nothing yet.” Clay’s jaw clenched, already chastising himself for what he was about to ask. “I wondered if you’d be interested in grabbing a bite to eat. I wanted to discuss your family a little more to see if there’s something you hadn’t thought of before.”
“Sure, that sounds fun.” Clay detected Abby’s enthusiasm over the phone. Was it because he had called, or was she simply bored with Ramblewood’s limited tourist activities? Not that it mattered. Once again, he reminded himself she was a client. Her enthusiasm or lack thereof was of no concern to him. “Where did you have in mind?” she asked.
“Depends what you’re in the mood for. We may not have much to do around here, but our Cooter Creek Restaurant Row draws crowds from