Chapter Two

      Amy returned to her desk with the veterinarian on her mind. Absently, she swiped at the faint brown stain on her blouse, now slightly damp after a scrubbing in the ladies’ room sink, as she looked out the window across Main Street to the clinic. Settling into her chair, she spied the message light blinking and reached for the phone.

       “How much is an ad?” the cutest little voice asked. A pause and then came whispering that Amy couldn’t quite decipher. “There’s no one there, Grammy.” Finally the girl gave a phone number. Twice.

       Smiling, Amy wrote down the number then placed the return call. An older woman answered with a firm, “Hello?”

       “Yes,” Amy said, “I received a call about placing an ad.” She paused. “But I believe it was from a child so…”

       “Oh, yes,” the woman said. “Of course. Just a moment and I’ll put Hailey on.”

       “All right,” Amy said as she wondered what was going on.

       “Hello” came the voice from the answering machine message. “I, that is, we would like to place an ad. How much will that cost?”

       “It depends.” Amy clicked over to the proper screen on her computer. “What sort of ad would you like to place?”

       A moment of silence followed, and then the shared whispers of several other voices came across the line. Apparently this would be a group effort.

       “Hello?” Amy said. “Is anyone there?”

       “Yes, ma’am” came the shaky response.

       “All right, then.” Amy placed her fingers on the keyboard. “First I need your full name and address so I can set up the account.” When the girl complied, Amy said, “All right, then, Hailey Wilson, go ahead and tell me what you’d like the ad to say.”

       “We would like to place an ad for our daddy, Dr. Wilson.” Someone with a similar girlish voice shouted a correction. “No, I mean for someone,” the child amended.

       Another voice, also quite young, added, “For someone for our daddy.”

      Dr. Wilson. Amy grinned. Eric Wilson’s girls were setting him up? Interesting. She checked the caller ID. The number came up as belonging to Susan Wilson, likely the woman who answered the phone.

       A squeal from the other end of the line drew Amy’s attention back to the situation at hand. “Before I can process your request, you’ll need to put your daddy on,” Amy said.

       “Well, I can’t exactly do that.” A pause, this time without any background noise beyond a barking dog. “My daddy is unable to come to the phone. He just went back to work. But he’s the best daddy in the world,” she added. “He braids our hair and bakes cookies with us. He’s gonna teach me to sail someday when I’m bigger.”

       Something in the sincerity in their voices softened Amy’s heart. While there wasn’t a chance she could possibly place such an ad, she’d begun to think the idea of it was the sweetest thing she’d heard all day. “I see. He sounds like a wonderful daddy. Now why don’t you put your babysitter on the phone and she can have your wonderful daddy call back when he gets home?”

       “We don’t have a babysitter. Just our Grammy.”

       Amy let out a long breath. This must be Susan. “Then might I speak to your grammy?”

       “No, don’t do that!” was quickly followed by a crash that sounded like breaking glass. Then came a dog’s excited yip.

       A scream, and then the line went dead.

       Amy held on to the receiver for a moment then slowly returned it to its cradle. What had just happened?

       She reached to return her computer screen to the home page and tried to shrug off the sense that something just wasn’t right. What if the elderly woman who answered the phone was in distress? Amy thought of her grandmother’s fall and how blessed she was to have neighbors who checked on her.

       What if Susan Wilson had fallen and now lay helpless with only Eric’s little girls to assist? Would they know what to do? The thought sent her into action. Quickly she hit redial and listened as the phone rang repeatedly then went to an automated voice mail.

       Amy jotted down the address the girl had given her and snagged her purse. If anyone in Vine Beach needed to place a classified, they’d just have to wait. Besides, what could the managing editor do, fire her? She had only a few more hours of work left, anyway.

       “I’ll be right back,” Amy said as she passed Bev Calloway’s open door.

       The city reporter looked up from her computer, her glasses dangling precariously on the end of her nose. “Emergency?”

       “I hope not.” Amy hitched her purse up higher on her shoulder. “I got a call I’d like to check out. Older lady and some kids. Heard a crash that sounded like glass breaking and now I can’t get anyone to answer.”

       She thought about mentioning the identity of the woman, maybe telling Bev to call the vet clinic, then decided against it. If she was wrong, she’d look like a fool. Better to check things out first and apologize later if need be.

       Bev’s dark brows rose. “Should I call an ambulance?”

       “I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. The address is just around the corner.” Her fingers found the keys. “Might want to say a little prayer, though. I’m hoping it’s nothing, but you never know.”

       “Will do,” Bev called as Amy hurried out the building to her car.

       A few minutes later, she made the turn and soon found herself in front of a tidy redbrick home trimmed in white and marked by a front door of glossy dark green. An empty driveway ended at a matching garage with a basketball goal hung just over the center of the double-size door.

       Pulling