Operation Homecoming. Justine Davis
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dotted with splashes of color, wildflowers and a stand of daffodils here and there. She wondered if they were naturalized, or if Hayley had planted them in that artful way. It had been such a beautiful day, as if winter itself had blessed their union by holding back for the ceremony.
She’d come to accept that some people—herself apparently included—just didn’t have that kind of luck when it came to love. Of course, Hayley had risked her life to win in that game, a situation where she knew she herself would have been a crumpled mass of jelly. But Hayley had always been braver than she.
She managed not to glance at the man who was standing beside the window, looking out toward the evergreens and the big maple where, Hayley had told her, the eagles who had made that amazing salute often perched. He’d shaved, at least. And he was still lean, strong, with that easy grace to his movements that had always entranced her.
And before her mind could career down that unwanted path, she pulled herself back to the matter at hand. Quinn was waiting, probably wondering why on earth his brilliant, decisive wife put up with such a fool for a friend. Or assuming she’d been pondering her decision, and not wasting her thoughts and his time on his scapegrace brother-in-law.
“All right,” she said finally.
Quinn nodded, as if she had answered when he’d first asked. He opened a drawer in the big table and took out a legal pad and a pen.
“Give us everything you remember from the documents. Names, dates, addresses, anything. Writing it will help you clarify it in your mind.”
“All right,” she said again.
“There’s only one more thing you need to decide before we dig in here,” Quinn said.
“What?”
He looked at Walker, who had turned back from the window. “Do you want him here?”
Amy thought she saw a wince flicker across his face. And for an instant she felt a pang of sympathy. But then the memories flooded back. No, no sympathy here, she told herself firmly.
“I’m not sure it matters,” she said, looking back at Quinn. “After all, he’ll be gone again soon, I’m sure.”
The wince was definite then.
“I’ll just go...play with the dog or something,” he said.
“I’m still not sure he’s decided about you yet,” Hayley put in.
“Then I’ll go tell him I’m grateful for the benefit of the doubt.”
His voice had an edge this time, and that irritated Amy even more. What benefit of the doubt did he think he’d earned?
“You do that,” she said.
“Hoping he’ll go for my throat?”
“He’s a smart dog.”
Amy watched him go. She turned back to see Hayley smiling at her. “I’m glad you’re here to say everything I’m not saying to him.”
Amy smiled back, her mood suddenly lightened. “Better it’s me. My bridge with him is a lot less important than yours. And I’ll happily burn it down.”
“Personally,” Quinn drawled out, “I wouldn’t want to go up against either one of you.”
Amy’s smile widened. She was truly starting to like him for more than the simple fact that he loved her best friend.
“Now,” Quinn said, his tone brisk, “let’s get this started. Then we’ll turn it over to Ty. If there’s anything to find, he’ll find it.”
With the feeling she’d started the proverbial snowball down the mountain, Amy picked up the pen and started to write.
* * *
“At least you don’t appear inclined to chew on me,” Walker said to the dog as he brought back the tennis ball yet again. He took it and gave this throw his all, since he was well warmed by now. It sailed across the meadow toward the trees, but the dog caught up with it easily.
“I need a baseball,” he muttered as he watched the dog start back. He could throw it farther, make him work harder.
Cutter stopped suddenly, his head turned toward the Foxworth building. He seemed so intent Walker looked himself, wondering what had caught the dog’s attention. Nothing had changed that he could see.
Correction, he thought as he turned back in time to see the dog move again. Limping. Now you’ve hurt Hayley’s dog. Just great.
He ran out to meet the dog, hesitated, but then knelt to look at the right front paw he seemed to be favoring. He couldn’t see anything, no visible injury, but he supposed Cutter could have strained something in his energetic pursuit of that fuzzy yellow sphere.
It didn’t seem so bad that the animal couldn’t walk at all, which was a relief since he wasn’t sure the dog would take kindly to being carried by a man he wasn’t too sure about, anyway. But Hayley wasn’t going to be happy. With a sigh he wondered if she’d blame him for this, although he wasn’t sure what he could have done to stop it other than not indulge the dog at all, when it was clear he played like this often.
He walked beside Cutter as he half hopped his way to the back door, his right paw never touching the ground. Maybe she wouldn’t be so mad if he paid the vet bill, he thought as he pulled the door open and followed the dog inside. Maybe if he...
The limp vanished. The moment the door swung closed behind them, that right paw came down and the dog walked forward as if it had never happened.
What the hell...?
Cutter looked back over his shoulder as if to be sure Walker was following. He gave a low woof that, added to the body language, sounded for all the world like “Come on.” Feeling a bit like one of the sheep he supposed the dog’s brethren herded, he obeyed. The dog scrambled up the stairs at a pace that made Walker think he’d been played beautifully.
He hesitated, knowing the gathering he’d been pointedly excused from was still going on, but he also couldn’t deny he wanted to know what was bothering Amy so much she called this meeting. So he followed the dog.
Cutter stopped in front of the three occupants of the room. Once he’d made eye contact with all of them, he looked back at Walker, almost pointedly. Feeling the gaze of the others, Walker thought about explaining, but since he had no idea how, stayed silent. Then the dog came back to him, walked behind him and nudged his legs as if to urge him forward.
“Well,” Quinn said, “it seems he’s decided you need to be in the loop.”
Walker blinked. Stared at the dog, who now crossed the room to a large, cushy dog bed beneath the big windows, and curled up on it with an air of satisfaction. Then he looked back at Quinn, who didn’t look overjoyed, but didn’t move to throw him out, either. Hayley looked thoughtful, while Amy didn’t look at him at all.
Thanks, dog, he thought. He didn’t have a clue what had been in that canine mind, but he’d take the result. He couldn’t do anything if he wasn’t even allowed on the field. And Cutter had fixed that.
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