The speed with which Maury moved belonged to a much younger man. “You must have dozens of things to do. Here, let me help you.” He pulled Ruby’s chair out, yanked her to her feet, and pushed her toward the door—and all without giving the impression of being anything but her best friend. “Drive safe, and don’t forget to look twice at the stop sign at the end of the street. It’s a tricky one.”

Ruby laughingly allowed herself to be thrown out of the house. There was no need for such haste, and she wouldn’t have minded saying goodbye to the boys, but she was still reeling from everything Eva had said about Spencer.

That all Ruby had to do was bat her eyes at him to get her way.

That he liked her.

“Why is she smiling?” Maury asked his wife as the pair of them blockaded the doorway and waved a cheerful farewell. He spoke loud enough for Ruby to hear, which she felt sure was the entire point. “She just promised us forty-eight hours all to ourselves. Doesn’t she know what she’s in for?”

“Not a clue, poor thing. I can hardly wait.”

Chapter 9

“What would you like on your sandwich?”

Eva poked her head into the exam room, where Spencer stood gently prodding the edges of a fatty lump on a dachshund’s abdomen. The dachshund, Jujubee, was prone to such lipomas. Since his body mass dragged so close to the ground, he regularly had to have them removed.

“That’s a good boy,” he said as he gave the dog a treat and rubbed his head. “The usual, please.”

Eva gave a small jump. “Wait… Could you say that again?”

“What? The usual?”

“No, before that. When you were talking to Jujubee.”

Spencer waited until he placed the dog on the floor and clipped on his leash before speaking. Eva had been acting strange all day, skulking around his office and asking a bunch of questions she already knew the answers to. In addition to a highly suspicious query about a cat who showed signs of being anemic, she’d asked him to consult on a leg fracture for an older sheepdog—both of which she could have easily handled on her own.

“I can’t get him to… What’s the word, again?” she’d asked as the sheepdog had stood on the table, his right foreleg held aloft. “I need him to relax and get comfortable so I can perform the exam but he won’t…?”

“Sit?” Spencer had suggested.

“Yes!” Eva had beamed as though she’d just been handed a million dollars. “That’s exactly it. What a help you’ve been.”