Home.
It didn’t feel that way yet, but hopefully in time it would.
He stared at the lab report, but instead of numbers he saw Fliss’s face, streaked with tears, and felt her fingers clutching the front of his shirt. Even then she’d tried to hide her emotions, but he’d felt them, and he’d shared them.
The door opened and Nancy, one of the vet techs, stood there. “You had a busy night.”
“I did.” He stood up and stretched. “What time is it?”
“Ten minutes until clinic, and it’s going to be a busy one.”
“Thanks. All I needed was strong coffee and a little good news.”
“Hey, you’re in demand. That’s good news. And I can manage coffee if it would help.”
“Thanks, but I can make it myself.” He’d always done everything himself, a legacy from a time when people’s first response to him was to assume he was wealthy and entitled.
The wealth was a privilege, he knew that. It had also been a lens, a filter, through which people viewed him.
It was one of the reasons he’d chosen to study veterinary medicine. Here he was mostly judged on his ability to deal with animals. When a couple brought in their family pet, bleeding and broken, they didn’t give a damn who his father had been.
And, as a vet, he’d learned that what enriched a life was the many small everyday things that so many took for granted. He’d seen a child’s face crumple with emotion when given a first pet. He’d seen a millionaire broken over the loss of a dog.
For a while he’d worked with large animals, then very sick animals, and he’d ended up here, running a small animal practice. Part of the community.
It felt right.
“Rufus is looking good, Mrs. Terry.” He checked the wound he’d sutured a week earlier. “It’s clean and healing well. Can’t have been easy keeping him out of mischief this week. You’ve done a good job.”
“I’m so relieved. We’ve had him since he was weeks old. Billy found him abandoned on the side of the road. The kids have grown up with him. I don’t know what we’d do without him.”
“Fortunately I don’t think you’re going to need to worry about that today.” Seth handed the dog back to his owner.
Losing a pet was hard. He understood that. He found it hard, too. It was the part of the job he hated.
He worked his way through a busy clinic and then stopped at the store on the way home. Crusty bread, heirloom tomatoes, mushrooms—he almost cleared the shelves of produce, adding in a couple of steaks at the last minute.
The steaks earned him a curious look as Della, the store owner, bagged his items. “Either you and Lulu are eating well, or you have company tonight.”
“We always eat well, Della.” He handed her his card, hoping that would be the end of it. He didn’t mind being the subject of discussion, but he wasn’t sure Fliss would feel the same way.
“You’re a good cook, Dr. Carlyle, just like
your mama. She used to come in here and pick out everything individually. She had an eye for the best. We miss seeing her around. You send her my love when you talk to her next and tell her we’re all thinking of her.” She returned his card and Seth picked up the bags.
“I’ll do that.”
She winked at him. “Whoever you’re feeding tonight is in for a treat.”
He kept his smile polite, and left the store and Della with all her questions behind him.
Preparing and sharing meals had been an important part of his upbringing. Everyone was expected to participate, and the big family kitchen in Ocean View had been the heart of their home. Food had been fresh, healthy and colorful. Bell peppers, their skins charred from the grill, piled in colorful heaps, glistening with olive oil. Fat olives, which always reminded him of the one vacation they’d taken to Italy, exploring the family roots. Every meal was a work of art, his mother’s skills as an interior designer showing even when plating food.
The easy conversation over good food was the thing he missed most since his father had passed. Now each gathering was suffused with sadness and the undeniable fact that something was missing.
His mother had kept going, trying to fill a gap that couldn’t be filled with other things. Nothing had fitted. Seth knew that gap was always going to be there. The best they could hope for was that they would eventually adjust to it. The family was a different shape now. They had to get used to that.
He unpacked the food in his new kitchen, filling the shelves of the empty fridge. He didn’t know if Fliss was going to join him, but if she did he didn’t want to be forced to go out. He wasn’t going to run the risk of someone derailing their conversation. He knew she’d snatch whatever excuse she could not to talk, and he was determined not to hand one to her.