Islay frowned, but her mother relaxed and went to put the kettle on.

“Take a picture!” the girl insisted bossily, and put on a huge grin and a ta-da with her hands. “Do it!”

Lissa tried to smile patiently. “I’d lose my job,” she said.

The girl looked suspicious.

“And so would Cormac.”

But already the mother was bustling back in, smiling expectantly. “Och, he’ll be wanting a picture,” she said. Islay smiled triumphantly and posed again, and Lissa, reluctantly, snapped her.

The girl’s blood pressure, heart rate, healing scar—all were fine, totally normal. The parents both lingered at the doorway, fearfully watching Lissa’s every move in a way that made the back of her neck prickle. She didn’t understand why they were so smug and triumphalist about it all. Didn’t they realize? Didn’t they know that an innocent boy’s blood had trickled out on the pavement for this?

It wasn’t until later that night when she got the email back from Cormac that she realized what she had missed.

To: [email protected]

Um, hi. The Coudrie family asked me to write to you directly and send you a picture.

Oh, and thanks for the house and everything. I took the spare room, by the way. Oh, and I picked some daffodils, I hope that was okay. Hope everything is okay with you.

Anyway, she seems fine, all vitals normal. I’m not sure I even needed to be there. Scar fine and healing fast, patient well in herself, talkative, seems perfectly normal situation. Don’t know if follow-up visits will be required as long as immunosuppression initiation continues as normal, but they were very adamant I let you know and send you a picture. PLEASE don’t share it. I know I shouldn’t send it but she was quite persuasive.

Yours sincerely,

Alyssa Westcott

CORMAC HAD HAD a trying day. He had mixed up the dogs and was slightly perturbed that in discussing the dogs, Alyssa had completely failed to mention that James had a boa constrictor in the house. He hadn’t been terrified exactly; it would just have been nice to have had a bit of forewarning.