“The gossip machine didn’t tell you?”

“No, which means she probably didn’t do it unless she somehow managed to keep it a secret. But that’s not possible in this town.”

“Even though I’ve heard that ‘Caitlyn has secrets’?”

He was teasing but she didn’t like it and her frown told him so.

“Sorry. Overstepping again.” He stood up to look at the neatly stacked cards. “That’s the last of them. We can put them back in the drawers now.”

The reorganization had taken hours. It was dark outside and Caitlyn knew she should say good-night and wish him luck, but she didn’t feel tired. “So where’s this storeroom where Betty hid the surgical instruments?”

“That door.” When Cait started toward it, he said, “No! That is a cave of chaos. I’m afraid there are snakes in there.”

“Kelly would never mistreat an animal. More likely it’s full of I-may-need-that-someday items.” She opened the door, then stood there in shock.

Coop stood beside her. “It’s not really my business to tackle this. I just need to search through it for supplies. Of course, someone could ask Betty where she put what.”

“She gets fired, then she’s going to help you? I don’t think so.”

“I’ll drive you home. Then next weekend I can—”

Cait removed a box from a shelf. On the bottom were leather straps so old that they had cracked. But on top were new boxes of sterile gloves.

“I need those!”

She put the boxes in his arms. “Know where the trash bags are?”

“No idea. I worry that Kelly might kill me for rearranging her stuff.”

“You think she never asked me to do this? Ha! I made Jared help me organize his parents’ garage. His dad said I did such a good job that Jared should—” She cut herself off.

“Should marry you?” Coop asked softly.

“Yes.” There was pain in her eyes.

“Too bad. I could help you plan your wedding. Don’t get a chocolate cake or a red velvet one. They stick in people’s teeth. The guests get drunk and they’re grinning and showing off their red and black teeth. Place begins to look like a horror show. You get scared. Like really, really afraid.”

She smiled. He had lightened the ugly moment. She grabbed another box. Under a muzzle big enough for a camel was a box of paper surgical gowns. They had to be twenty years old. “I’ll give you a nickel if you can find some trash bags.”

“My week’s salary,” he murmured, and left to search.

It took hours and they ended up with nine bags full of rubbish. Cait had found a big black marker and labeled the boxes. Coop made a list of what was there. They could add it to their data bank and keep track of how much they had and what they needed to buy.