Copper Lake Confidential

“I don’t know.” Stephen wiped his hands on a napkin then leaned back comfortably. “I got over wanting them to get back together a long time ago, but I think he actually misses her. He never remarried, never seemed at all interested in another woman.”

A security light at the far side of the backyard came on automatically, drawing Macy’s gaze outside. The settling dusk had escaped her notice, but now a faint shiver rippled through her. It was okay, she counseled herself. So the sun had set. No big deal. Dangerous things were dangerous, whether it was daylight or midnight.

Stephen stuffed the used napkins into the pizza box then crushed it in half as he stood. “I’d better head home. You must be tired or ready to get some sorting or packing done.” He went into the kitchen, automatically opening the cabinet under the sink to toss away the trash, then pulled his wallet from his hip pocket as he turned to face her again.

“‘Home’ is the first house to the north. It’s the one with the fence that can’t keep Scooter in.” For a moment he hesitated, then held out his hand. “And here’s my card. It’s got my cell phone number on it. If you need anything…”

Macy accepted the card, murmuring thanks for the dinner and everything else as she walked with him and the dog to the front door. As soon as they reached their car, she locked the door, set the alarm, then leaned against the door frame. Slowly she uncurled her fingers from the white cardstock and stared at it.

Stephen Noble, DVM.

As the emptiness of the house closed in around her, she felt a little bit safer. A little bit less alone. Just a little, but she would take what she could get.

“Dr. Noble, if you have a minute, Peyton’s here. She’s got something to show you.”

Stephen looked up from the chart he’d just finished, automatically checking the clock on the wall. Five minutes to eight, and he’d already seen five patients. “I always have a minute for Peyton. Tell her I’ll be right out.”

He’d learned early in life that there were four kinds of people: those who liked dogs, those who liked cats, those who liked both and—the ones he couldn’t relate to at all—those who preferred neither. Peyton was definitely in the first group.

So was Macy Howard.

Not liking animals was a deal breaker for him. Not that he was looking for anything with Macy. She was pretty, sure, but she had a child. She had been recently widowed. At least, a year and a half seemed recent to him. Not nearly enough time to deal with the emotional upheaval.

But she wasn’t still in love with her husband.

Before he got any further with that thought, he walked into the lobby, where nine-year-old Peyton was waiting. Her face lit up and she called, “Dr. Noble, did Penny tell you I had a surprise?”

He didn’t need a guess to identify it as the dog standing beside her wheelchair. He crouched in front of her. “A surprise, huh? Do you have new glasses?”

“No.”

“New sweater?”

“You’ve seen this before,” she chided. “It’s my favorite sweater. I wear it all the time.”

He pretended to study her, from the top of her blond curls all the way down to the toes of her sneakers, then raised both hands in surrender. “I give up. You’ve stumped me.”

Laughing, Peyton leaned over to lay her hand on the dog. “I got my service dog! Her name is Sasha, and she’s just for me, even though she has to be friends with everyone. Isn’t she beautiful?”

The golden retriever turned gorgeous brown eyes on him as if understanding the question and waiting for the compliment. “She is,” Stephen said. “Almost as beautiful as you. Has she learned all your lessons?”

“Yup.”

“Have you learned all her lessons?”

Peyton’s head bobbed. “Mom and I spent two weeks at the center where they trained her. And I wasn’t scared of her at all. Not even the very first time we met.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be. Has she gone to school with you yet?”

“Today’s the first day. All the kids in my class are gonna be jealous because Sasha can come and their pets can’t. But their pets wouldn’t behave, and Sasha will be a very good girl ‘cause she’s been taught.”

“And if we’re going to be on time, we need to go now.” Audrey King, Peyton’s mother, left the counter where she’d been chatting and joined them. “Thanks, Dr. Noble. This is going to make a big difference in her life.”

“No need to thank me.” All he’d done was locate the service dog group. Audrey and Peyton and generous donors had done the rest.

“We’ll bring Sasha back so you can get acquainted,” Peyton announced as she wheeled her chair around. “After all, you’re gonna be her new doctor and her new friend. See you.”

Two new friends in two days. He was on a roll. Would Macy mind being categorized with a retriever? He didn’t think so. She wanted a puppy for her daughter, and she’d been very tolerant of Scooter. She hadn’t barred the door to him or objected to his sharing their dinner.

Was her daughter as pretty and delicate as Peyton? Did she have her mother’s blue eyes, her mother’s silky brown hair? Was she friendly or shy? Did she have any comprehension of the fact that her father was dead?

No, not at three. At eighteen months, she would have known Daddy, but now she wouldn’t have any memory of him. She wouldn’t know that he had played with her, fed her, rocked her to sleep—if, in fact, he’d done any of those things. Judging from Macy’s remark last night, he hadn’t left her many fond memories. Even if he’d loved his daughter, that knowledge was gone forever for Clary.

At least Macy had her daughter. When he and Sloan had split, everyone had told him how he was lucky they hadn’t had kids. He hadn’t quite seen it. He’d married with the intention of staying together forever, of having at least three kids. And they’d divorced with nothing. No kids, no love, no hope.

Of course, he’d come to understand his friends’ and family’s meaning when he’d packed up to leave Wyoming. If he and Sloan had had a child, he couldn’t have done it. He could leave her and the state behind without ever looking back, without regret, but not his child. He’d grown up seeing his dad only on holidays and summer breaks, and he wouldn’t have done that to his own kid. He’d still be in Wyoming freezing his butt off half of every year.

As he returned to the exam room, where a beagle was waiting with its floppy ears and soulful eyes, he wondered how Macy had gotten through the night. He’d kept his phone on the nightstand—though he always kept it on the nightstand. Being a vet wasn’t a nine-to-five job, or in his case, six to noon three days a week plus every other Saturday.

She’d been pretty upset when he’d seen her in the driveway, and he wondered again why she’d refused to call the police. Was it some sort of innate distrust of authorities? Did it have something to do with how her husband had died?

How had he died?

Stephen could ask his boss. Yancy Yates had been in Copper Lake forever. He’d married into the Calloway family, Copper Lake’s version of royalty, right out of school. Anyone or anything he didn’t know, his wife did.

Or he could do a Google search on Macy. The internet left few secrets.

But as he began examining Clarence—yes, the name fit—he decided against doing either. Macy had made it clear she wouldn’t be around long. If she chose to tell him more, great. If she didn’t…well, he could find out the rest after she left.

Clarence heaved a sigh as Stephen lifted one of his ears to look inside.

“It’s undignified, isn’t it, buddy?” he murmured. “We just poke and prod everywhere, and you don’t even get asked.”

Another reason he wouldn’t actively try to find out more about Macy. Technology aside, people were entitled to some dignity, some privacy.

After finishing Clarence’s exam, Stephen returned the dog to the run, where he would wait to be picked up later by his owner. He stayed busy the rest of the morning, finishing up the last of his charts exactly at quitting time. His usual routine was to grab lunch from a fast-food restaurant, take it home and write through the afternoon.

Would he stick to it today, or would he be tempted by his neighbor?

Let’s see. An afternoon with Lucan, Sa’arca and Tu’anlan, wreaking mayhem on everyone, or being neighborly and making sure Macy was doing okay.

He was no fool.

Or maybe he was, because he picked up two burgers and two orders of fries at the SnoCap and, instead of driving past the Howard house and out the gates into the Lesser of the World, he pulled into the driveway beside the minivan.

Bag in hand, he rang the doorbell, the deep sepulchral tones raising gooseflesh on his neck just for a moment. The place had cost more than he’d made in his vet career, but it couldn’t begin to reach the level of homeyness that his little house had, secondhand furnishings and all.

He didn’t hear any footsteps through the solid door. It just suddenly opened to reveal Macy on the other side. She wore a pair of red shorts that could have been a whole lot shorter and a tank top that couldn’t have been much snugger. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her feet were bare and there were faint shadows under her eyes. A hesitant smile curved her mouth, though it wasn’t directed at him.