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Authors: Barbara Hinske

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BOOK: Weaving the Strands
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“Yes. I’m locked in the attic. Can you get in and
let me out?”

“Are any of the doors or windows unlocked?” he yelled
in reply.

“I don’t think so. Maybe the kitchen door. Windows
are all locked,” she shouted.

Haynes turned to walk to the back of the house.

“Wait. There’s a key hidden in the flower pot to
the right of the garage door.”

He nodded vigorously to signal that he understood
and disappeared around the side of the house.

Maggie shoved herself into her shirt and slammed
the window shut. She grabbed the flashlight and flew down the stairs at
breakneck pace. Eve suddenly started barking wildly, and just as quickly
quieted.
He must be petting her,
she realized with a surge of
tenderness. Within moments, she heard his rapid steps on the stairs.

***

John Allen decided it was time to
wrap it up for the week. He’d had a busy Saturday, as usual. Clinic hours had
been over more than ninety minutes ago and his last technician had just left.
He had his favorite college football game recorded on his DVR. He’d pick up a
bucket of chicken on the way home and eat in front of the TV.

Now that Eve was back home, they had no dogs overnighting
at the clinic. He sighed. Eve had been touch and go that first night.
Thankfully, she’d pulled through. As usual, he made his rounds to check that
all of the doors were locked. On his way through the waiting room, his foot
connected with a prescription bottle and it skidded across the floor, pills
rattling inside. He switched on the lights and found the culprit.
Someone
dropped their pet’s medications on their way out,
he mused. If it were
something important, he’d have to call the pet owner.

He checked the label; it was an antibiotic for
Eve. She couldn’t go the weekend without it. He still knew Maggie’s number by
heart and reached for his cell phone. In spite of himself, a smile crept across
his face as he waited for her to pick up. When his call went to her voicemail,
he intended to leave a message directing her to a box around back where he
would leave the prescription for her to pick up. Instead he heard himself
telling her that he would stop by Rosemont and bring it to her. He picked up
the prescription bottle and headed out the back door.

John’s pulse quickened as he made the familiar drive
to Rosemont. He had to admit he missed Maggie terribly. He was trying to
distance himself from her, but she continued to dominate his thoughts. Maybe this
lost prescription was a sign. Maybe fate was throwing them together. Maybe he
should give it another try. He stepped on the accelerator.

He rounded the corner and emerged from the trees
to find Rosemont silhouetted against the late afternoon sky. A lone car was
parked in front and all of the lights were out except for one on the upstairs
landing. As John pulled up to the front door, he recognized the familiar
Mercedes sedan. He sat in stunned silence as his imagination took him places he
didn’t want to go. The house was silent; it was obvious that Maggie and Haynes
were alone. On the second floor. His stomach lurched and his mouth went dry.

He wanted nothing more than to get away from
there. His dedication as a doctor forced him to quietly get out of his car and
leave the bottle by the front door. He’d send Maggie a text message that the
medication had been delivered, he thought as he hastily retraced his steps and
drove away.

***

“Over here, Frank,” Maggie yelled
hoarsely from inside the attic.

“I’ve got it,” he replied. “You’ll be out in a
jiffy.” Turning the knob, he shoved the door open in one firm movement.

Maggie tumbled out, almost knocking him over. She
bent over, hands on her knees, and breathed deeply to steady herself.

“Sorry about that, Frank,” she gasped and tried to
stand.

Haynes recovered his balance, and put his arm
around her shoulder to steady her. She leaned into him.

 “How long were you up there?” he asked.

“Since early this morning.”

“I almost didn’t come out here. I figured you
forgot about our meeting. Frankly, I was angry. I was bringing you a bunch of
paperwork to review—on your own.”

Maggie nodded and straightened. “I was certain I’d
spend the night up there,” she said with a shudder. “I didn’t have any water
and figured I’d have to make a ladder out of whatever I could find if no one
came for me by early afternoon. And I’ve been so worried about Eve because she
just got out of the hospital and needs antibiotics.”

Haynes gave her a quizzical glance.

“She had a spider bite that became infected and
was really sick. But Dr. Allen fixed her up,” she replied.

Haynes nodded. In all his days, he’d never been in
a situation like this. Saving a damsel in distress was a task he was totally
unprepared for.

 “Well, you’re okay now,” he stated the
obvious. “How did you get locked in?”

“That damn door is missing a knob on the inside. I
left it open when I went up to the attic, but it’s drafty and a big wind gust
slammed it shut. And there I was.”

Maggie switched on the chandelier on the landing,
throwing light onto the stairway and the driveway from the window.

“What’s up there?” he asked, his interest in this
house, which he had coveted for so long, once again piqued.

“Just a bunch of old junk, really,” Maggie stated
dismissively. “I found some old ledgers and records from the twenties and
thirties. Those might be fun to look though.” She turned to him. “Frank, I
can’t thank you enough. You’re my white knight. You saved me from the most
terrifying night of my life, for sure, and maybe from much worse. I don’t know
if I could have climbed all the way down a makeshift ladder. And I don’t know
if Eve would have survived. I’m so very grateful to you.”

Haynes smiled, his earlier annoyance with her
evaporated.

“Let me run up and lock the window,” Maggie said,
starting toward the stairs.

“No, I’ll get it,” Haynes replied firmly. “You’ve
had enough of that attic for one day.” Maggie nodded. Taking the flashlight
from her, he quickly ascended the stairs and made his way to the window that
Maggie had hailed him from. He secured the lock then turned to head back toward
the stairs when the flashlight’s beam caught a file folder lying on the floor.
He stopped short to avoid stepping on it and stooped to pick it up. He was
about to toss it on top of a stack of banker’s boxes when he noted the title.
Shock waves coursed through his body. He hesitated, wondering if he could stash
the file inside his coat, when he heard Maggie’s tread on the stairs.

“Frank,” she called. “Did you get it?”

Haynes quickly shoved the file into the closest
box, vowing to somehow, someway retrieve it.

“Got it,” he called as he intercepted her at the
top of the stairs. “You propped that door open, right? So we don’t get locked
in?”

Reassured by Maggie’s assertion that the door
couldn’t slam shut again, he turned and slowly led them both down the stairs
with the flashlight.

Neither of them noticed the car in the driveway as
they walked to the front door. The taillights disappeared into the trees as
Haynes stepped through the front door and Maggie stooped to pick up the
prescription bottle propped on the doormat.

Chapter 24

Maggie opened a can of soup for
dinner and tried to force herself to review the documents Frank Haynes had
brought her. After plowing through one section for the fourth time—still
with no understanding—she replaced the cap firmly on her highlighter and
tidied up the stack of papers.

“Eve, I’m exhausted, aren’t you?” Eve thumped her
tail in reply. “I guess being locked in a drafty old attic all afternoon really
took it out of me. I think it’s time to get ready for bed.”

Maggie reached for her phone and lazily checked
her messages. Her heart leapt when she saw John’s name in the list. She read
and reread his curt text. He must have been the one who had dropped off Eve’s
medicine. She’d send a warm, appreciative response and see if she couldn’t get
things going again between them. He still felt something for her, she was sure
of it. The spark was there that day at his clinic when she brought Eve to him.

Maggie settled onto her stool at the kitchen
island, and Eve curled up at her feet. She sat, fingers poised over her keypad,
deep in thought.

Looks like Eve & I have been recipients
of your kindness again. Thanks so much for delivering her medicine. Sorry I
didn’t answer the door—was occupied. Would like to tell you about it. And
thank you properly. May I take you to dinner this week?

Maggie contemplated what she had written. Was
dinner too much, too soon? Would it turn him off? Should she start with
something smaller? Yes, that would definitely be safer. She erased the last
line and typed:
Can I buy you coffee this week?
J

There—that sounded friendly and not pushy.
Satisfied, she pressed send. “Okay, Eve,” she yawned. “Now we really need to
get to bed.”

***

Maggie kept a close eye on her
phone all day Sunday as she waded through the Fairview Terraces paperwork, hoping
for a response from John. She pushed aside her disappointment, rationalizing
that he might be out on an emergency call and unable to respond to a social
text, but by dinnertime, she was thoroughly discouraged.

Maggie spent the evening watching episodes of
Upstairs
Downstairs
on DVD—her son, Mike, had given her the entire series for
Christmas the prior year—and doing her nails. She was just about to turn
out the light on her nightstand when his reply came in:
Not necessary. Call
office if you need anything.

Maggie felt her heart plummet.
That’s it,
she realized.
He’s done. I was mistaken.
She nestled into her pillow
that was soon wet with her silent tears. Sensing the change in her master, Eve
abandoned her familiar spot at Maggie’s feet. She sniffed and wagged, and
licked Maggie’s face until Maggie was compelled to smile.

“It’s okay, girl,” she whispered as she moved Eve
to a spot next to her. She turned on her side and snuggled her furry companion.
“I’ve always got you.”

She forced her mind back to the financial data she
had spent the afternoon analyzing and was soon asleep.

***

A cold front settled on the
Midwest, bringing with it freezing rain and gusty winds. Both Maggie and John
were in a funk by quitting time on Wednesday.
Comfort food,
Maggie
decided as she turned out of the Town Hall parking lot.
I’m sick and tired
of salads; I need something that will stick to my ribs. One night won’t ruin my
diet.
She spun her car around and headed to Pete’s.

Meanwhile, John Allen had parked his car in the No
Parking zone outside the back door of Pete’s and run in to pick up the nightly
special to go. He had been doing this for so long that he didn’t need to call
in his order anymore or stop to pay; he called if he wasn’t coming, and they
had his credit card on file. The arrangement suited him perfectly.

Maggie parked at the far end of the lot,
positioned the hood of her coat as far over her face as she could and held it
firmly in place while she dashed to the back door. She pulled the door open and
collided with the veterinarian, sending his take-out boxes to the floor.

“John,” she exclaimed, laughing with
embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to get in here out of the rain. Here,
let me help you.” As she bent to retrieve one of the Styrofoam boxes, her heart
felt happier than it had in days.

“Not necessary,” he said, snatching the box before
she could reach it.

“How are you?” she continued, eyeing him carefully
and willing the conversation to continue.

“Fine, thanks. Goodnight,” he said brusquely as he
opened the door without meeting her gaze.

Maggie watched silently as the door shut behind
him.

***

It was irretrievably over, Maggie
thought morosely as she picked through the fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and
corn she brought home from Pete’s. She’d almost finished the humongous piece of
chocolate cake that came with the special—what on earth was she thinking,
eating all of this?—when Susan called.

 “Hi, honey,” Maggie answered without
enthusiasm. “What’s up?”

“Well, aren’t we chipper? What’s got you down? Are
those crooks at Town Hall still up to no good?”

Maggie smiled in spite of herself. “I’m sure they
are. Who knows? That’s not what’s bothering me.”

“Okay,” Susan replied. “Then what? Come on, Mom,
no secrets. Spill the beans. You and John are fine, aren’t you?”

Maggie sighed. “That’s just it. We’re not. I think
it’s definitely over.”

“What? When did this happen? Why didn’t you call
me?”

“I was hoping it was all a tiny misunderstanding
and it would blow over. Until last week, I knew he still liked me. But that’s
not why you called. What’s up with you?”

“Not so fast, Mom,” Susan replied.

Maggie could picture her lying back on her sofa,
phone to her ear, just as she had done as a teenager. Susan was in the mood to
talk and there would be no denying her.

“Give it all to me, Mom.”

“Not much to tell, really. I was late picking him
up from his physical therapy several times and missed a session or two—he
had to take a cab.”

Maggie heard Susan wince.

“That’s pretty bad, Mom.”

“I know, I know. He’s absolutely right to be
angry. I was trying to make it up to him, but he said that he couldn’t do it
anymore; he’d been second fiddle to his wife, and he wasn’t going to be second
fiddle in a relationship again. That was pretty much it.”

“Have you seen him since? How has he acted?”

“That’s the thing. I have. Eve got very sick from
a spider bite, and I rushed her to his clinic. He was so kind and concerned, I
thought we could start talking and then begin again.”

“So why hasn’t that happened?”

“I have no idea. The last time he dropped by
Rosemont was the day I got locked in the attic.”

“You what?”

Maggie launched into a recap of her afternoon in
the attic. After a period of joint speculation about the vintage silver
collection, they returned to Maggie’s more pressing concern and concluded that
John’s attitude had completely cooled to her immediately thereafter.

“How odd,” Susan commented. “Makes no sense. But
if you’re absolutely sure that it’s over, then you might as well sign up with
an online dating service and meet someone that way.”

Maggie snorted. “That’s ridiculous. No way would I
do that. That’s your thing, not mine.”

“So it’s good enough for me, but not you.
Apparently you don’t really believe all that encouraging stuff you tell me
about meeting someone online? Seems a wee bit hypocritical, doesn’t it?”

She’s nailed it,
Maggie realized. She drew
a deep breath and was about to mount her defense when Susan continued.

“Mom. I think you might be scared. We all are. But
online dating can be a lot of fun. I’ll help you with your profile, and we’ll
be able to talk about the men you find out there. Just like we do for me. It’ll
be fun to do this together.”

“Honey, I’m not so sure I even want to date
anyone.”

“You’re not making a lifetime commitment here,”
Susan teased. “Just give it a whirl. If you don’t like it, you can quit. As
you’re always telling me, you can’t hit a home run if you won’t get up to bat!”

Maggie laughed. “You win. I surrender.”

She could hear Susan get up off the couch.

“Perfect. I’m getting my laptop and going online.
You do the same. We’ll get you going right now. No time like the present.”

Knowing when she had been defeated, Maggie
retrieved her computer and they began.

***

Across town, John Allen disposed of
the Styrofoam containers that held his dinner and searched for something interesting
to watch on TV. He replayed running into Maggie in his mind—and her
recent text message—for the hundredth time. He still cared for her. Had
he been too hasty in calling it off? He didn’t think so. He kept falling for
the wrong kind of woman—he didn’t want a workaholic who put her career
ahead of him. And he definitely didn’t want to have coffee with Maggie so she
could tell him that she’d gotten together with Frank Haynes. If they had become
an item, he’d have to get used to that. But he didn’t have to listen politely
while his heart was torn in two.

He had to admit he was lonely. He’d never dreamed
it would be this difficult to find the right person to spend the rest of his
life with. Of course, he hadn’t exactly been trying very hard of late since he
never went out anywhere to meet anyone. At this rate if “the one” didn’t walk
through the doors of Westbury Animal Hospital—as Maggie had done those
months ago—he wasn’t going to meet her.

Where did a person go to meet someone these
days anyway?
Over the years he’d tried bars and church and the dog park,
but had never met a soul he was remotely interested in dating. John turned his
attention back to the TV and resumed channel surfing. He suddenly switched it
off and tossed the remote aside.
You’re sitting here feeling sorry for
yourself and acting like the couch potato you never wanted to be,
he
thought.
This is ridiculous.

He propelled himself from his semi-prone position
and grabbed his laptop. He’d register with an online dating service and get
back in the game. There were sites for people with specific interests; he’d
overheard his receptionist talking about one for dog lovers. He’d check it out.
If he didn’t find anyone, he could always quit. And who knows, something just
might happen for him. That kind of thing occurred all the time.

***

Frank Haynes hit “save” and closed
out of the spreadsheet he had been working on in Excel. His numbers looked
good; he was a very wealthy man. But what good did it do him, really, if he
didn’t have anyone to share it with? Would he be one of those people who died
and left a fortune to their dog?

He sighed and turned back to his computer. It
couldn’t hurt to check out an online matchmaking service. Surely they’d changed
in the years since he’d been on one. What did he have to lose?

***

In response to her daughter’s
constant reminders, Maggie checked her account on DogLovers.com daily. Susan
called each night and together they analyzed all possible matches. After a week
even Susan had to admit that there was no one suitable for Maggie. Until the
following Sunday afternoon. When she found a profile that caught her attention:

Dogs—and other animals—have been
a major part of my happy, satisfying life. I’m in my late fifties, healthy, and
independent. I’m still working in a job I love and have no plans to retire. I’m
an avid sports fan, enjoy fine dining, and I’d like to travel. I’m looking for
a serious relationship to share the large and small joys of life. DogLover7718

Sounds interesting,
Maggie thought.
And
normal.
It’d be nice to see what he looked like, but the site didn’t allow
photos, advising that you couldn’t judge a book by its cover. She supposed they
were right.

Then Maggie found a second profile that caught her
eye:

Successful business owner looking for an
intelligent woman to spend time with. I enjoy European cars and the occasional
movie. I’m an animal lover and have a soft spot for strays. My career is
demanding and I’m looking for an independent woman with her own interests.
DogLover7719

He’s not as intriguing as DogLover7718, but he
fits the profile of what I’m looking for in a man.
She reached for her cell
phone to solicit Susan’s advice.
That’s interesting,
she mused as she
waited for Susan to pick up.
I’m DogLover7717.

“Honey,” she said, “call me when you can. I think
two of the matches look interesting. Now I need to know what to do next!”

***

John scrolled through the profiles
on DogLovers.com. Maybe this whole idea had been a mistake. How in the world
was he going to weed through all of these people? Four profiles were
interesting, but he kept returning to DogLover7717. Something about her
intrigued him:

Lifelong dog lover finally has her perfect
canine companion. Forging a new life with my dog at my side. I’m a
homebody—I like to cook and garden. Avid reader when I have time. I’ve
travelled widely and plan to do more in my free time. Honesty, integrity, and
open communication are the cornerstones of a relationship. I’m looking for a
long-term commitment that will fulfill and nurture us both.

 

Sounded right on the mark to him. He’d contact
her. He typed his message, deleted it, retyped, reread it, and finally hit
send. There—he’d done it. Made a start. Satisfied with himself, he shut
his laptop and whistled to his Golden Retriever. He suddenly felt like checking
out the dog park.

***

Maggie busied herself in her garden
all Sunday afternoon. It felt good to be doing something physical where she could
instantly see the results of her efforts. She was almost finished when Susan returned
her call.

BOOK: Weaving the Strands
5.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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