“Does this mean you quit your job?” Nathan bounced back in, hand-washing forgotten. “I hate when you’re working. You’re never home.”

  Serena winced, but she managed a smile. “I still have to work,” she said. “But I’ll be home for the holidays, and hey! I’m home now.” The timer went off, and she reached for her oven mitts. “Now, who wants cookies?”

  “I do!” Julie jumped down, pigtails flying. Nathan pulled a sour face, mouth turned down.

  “You never had to work before,” he said. “You’re supposed to be here to play with us. If you don’t, we’ll get lonely.”

  “Mom’s innapendent,” said Julie. “Like She-Ra and Rey. A strong, innapendent woman. That means she can work, or do whatever she wants.”

  Serena chuckled at that and mussed Nathan’s hair. “I’ll still play with you, promise. Independent or no.” She reached for her spatula and scooped the cookies onto a plate. “Get ‘em while they’re gooey.”

  Julie snatched a cookie and Nathan grabbed two. Then they ran to the living room and flipped on the TV.

  “Just half an hour of that, then you do your homework!”

  The kids groaned, but Serena wasn’t worried. They both did well at school, got good grades, had good friends. She’d been scared they’d stumble in the wake of the divorce, but so far, so good. She reached for a washcloth, but her phone buzzed on the counter. Her stomach did a flip-flop, thinking it might be Will, but Ma’s number popped up, and she answered with a sigh.

  “Hey, Ma. Good to hear from you. Still on vacation?” She could hear birds, she thought—faint, exotic birdsong warbling down the line. Where had they gone this time, Australia? The Caribbean? She and Dad had joined the jet set since Dad had retired. Since then, it’d been one luxury vacation after another, chasing summer around the globe.

  “Oh yes, it’s gorgeous. But where have you been?” Ma’s voice was sharp. “I tried calling this morning, but I got your voicemail.”

  “I was at work,” said Serena. She squared her shoulders, bracing herself for a fight. Ma tutted at her, an unfriendly sound.

  “Still playing secretary for that awful Doctor Burton?”

  “I wasn’t playing, and no.” Serena went to the window and leaned on the cool glass. “Remember the Harveys, from the Harvey ranch? I’m working for Will now, at the vet clinic on Main.”

  “Still just a secretary, or have you graduated to...what comes after secretary? Assistant? Wife?”

  Serena ground her teeth. “You’re not funny, Ma. And I’m a receptionist, not a secretary.”

  Ma tutted again, and Serena wanted to throttle her. She’d always hated that snide little tchah. Nothing good ever came of it, just a whole lot of judgment.

  “I don’t understand you,” said Ma. “You’ve got a great life, great kids. Why this sudden urge to be, what? A career woman?”

  “Just a regular woman, Ma.” Serena sank down at the table, all the fight draining out of her. She was tired of this argument, tired to the bone. “I want to live my own life, on my own terms. I don’t get why that’s so hard to understand.”

  “Well, you can show me over Christmas, this grand life you’ve built.” Ma gave a sniff. “We’re coming home early to see our grandchildren.”

  “Coming home? Coming here?” Serena jerked upright, but Ma just laughed.

  “Oh, Serena. Don’t panic. We’re not staying with you. Our house is much bigger, and we have that new bed.”

  “I know,” said Serena. “It’s just a surprise.” Inwardly, she groaned. Ma might not be staying with her, but she’d be here all the time, watching and judging, always picking holes. The house was clean and presentable, but Ma’s standards were high. She’d expect a big tree, and the house decked in lights. “When—when’d you decide this?”

  “Your father and I were talking last night over dinner. We’re worried about you, and we miss the children.” She made a huffing sound. “It won’t be a problem, right? You’re not working on Christmas?”

  “No. No, of course not.” Serena felt sick. “Look, I’ve got cookies baking. I’ve got to go. But the kids’ll be thrilled when I tell them you’re coming.”

  “Bearing gifts, of course.”

  “Of course.” She hung up, head pounding. Juggling Ma and her new job and the kids’ Christmas to boot—it didn’t seem fair. Not on top of Jack leaving, then six months spent bouncing from job to job. She needed a win, one clear, solid win. One blazing triumph she could wave in Ma’s face: See, look, I’m doing it. We’ll be okay.

  “We’ll be okay,” she whispered, but the words came out ragged, more question than statement.

  5

  Will sat at reception, gripping the phone nearly tight enough to crack it. He shouldn’t have picked up, should’ve let it go to voicemail. Now Ms. Wallace was scolding him like he was five again, in her kindergarten class. The years hadn’t dulled her tongue or sweetened her voice. If anything, she’d got louder, now her hearing had gone.

  “I’m an old lady,” she said. “I can’t be traipsing all over, pillar to post. I don’t see why you can’t deliver, or build your own pharmacy like that Doctor Melman.”

  She wasn’t looking for a response, so Will didn’t give one. He just sat and waited for her to run out of steam. She seemed to gain some instead, and Will closed his eyes. She was still going when the front door swung open and Serena ducked in all rosy-cheeked, snowflakes in her hair. The effect was enchanting, and Will gave her a wave.

  “Are you listening?” Ms. Wallace made a sniffing sound. “I can bring Jenny to you, then drive out to the pharmacy, or go an hour’s round trip to see Doctor Melman. Either way, that’s my whole day, and...”

  Will made a yap-yap-yap sign, snapping his hand open and shut. Serena stifled a giggle and held out her hand, offering to take the phone.

  “Ms. Wallace?” Will cut her off without thinking and hastened to cover his gaffe. “Sorry to interrupt, but my assistant’s just walked in the door. Do you mind if I turn you over to her?”

  Ms. Wallace squawked, indignant, but Will passed off the phone. Serena took it, still smiling, and held it to her ear. She listened patiently for what seemed like forever.

  “Well, that’s not a problem,” she said when Ms. Wallace was done. She leaned over Will’s shoulder and pulled up Daytimer. “If you come in first thing Thursday, you’ll be first up, no wait. Then if Jenny needs a prescription, I can pick it up and swing that by for you at the end of the day.” She tapped on the appointment form. “Should I set that up?”

  Ms. Wallace must’ve agreed because Serena booked the appointment and bid her goodbye.

  “That was amazing,” said Will when she’d hung up. “Are you sure you don’t mind picking up her prescription?”

  “Not at all.” Serena smiled. “I live just up the street from her, so she’s on my way home.” She wriggled out of her coat and hung it on its peg. Will watched as she took her seat and pulled up his schedule. She seemed different today—more confident, more cheerful. It looked good on her, he decided, that spark in her eye.

  “Your first patient’s Buster,” she said. “He’s a Saint Bernard, ten years old, and he’s got a rash on his paws.”

  “Poor Buster.” Will frowned. “What time’s he coming?”

  “In about half an hour.”

  “Do me a favor: when you see him come in, call out ‘Hi, Buster!’ nice and loud.”

  “Will do,” said Serena. She scribbled a reminder on a Post-It and stuck it to her screen. “May I ask why?”

  Will pushed back his hair. “Buster’s an old boy, blind and nearly deaf. But he’ll smell where he is, and he’ll be scared. A friendly voice helps with that, so show him some love.”

  Serena pressed her lips together, and a crease appeared between her brows. “I wish they could see you now, all those rats jumping ship for Doctor Melman.”

  “What?”

  Serena’s expression softened. “Just, the way you are with their pets, how you remember every one—if I had a pet, I wouldn’t bring it anywhere else. Anyone can see how much you care.”

  “Well, thank you,” said Will. His ears had gone hot. “I figure, y’know, you’ve got to treat animals like you’d want to be treated. Be kind to them, show ’em respect.” He shrugged, embarrassed. “Anyway, let’s hope more folks think like you do. If business doesn’t pick up soon, I’ll have to work nights as an Uber driver in Redfield.”

  Serena chuckled at that, like she didn’t believe it for a minute. Will retreated to his office, chalking up one for the win column. Serena’d done well today, no tinsel, no freakouts, and she’d worked wonders with Miss Wallace. If she did well with Buster, there’d be hope for her yet.

  He plopped down at his desk and checked his schedule for the day. It looked depressingly sparse. He’d joked about driving for Uber, but barring a miracle—

  “Hi, Buster!”

  Will stifled a chuckle. Serena had taken him at his word, singing out her greeting fit to wake the dead. The old dog made a throaty sound, half-bark, half-sigh.

  “You’re up first today, so I can take you right...oops! What’s this, now? Somebody tired?”

  “Come on, Buster.” Mr. Bryant’s voice drifted through, deep and weary as his dog’s. “C’mon. Up you get.”

  Buster made a grumbling sound, or maybe that was Bryant. Serena laughed, high and nervous.

  “I think he’s comfy right there.”

  “Well, he better get un-comfy. Buster, move your rear.”

  Will ambled out to check on them, trying not to smile. Buster had plunked himself down in the middle of the waiting room, his huge, grizzled head cocked at a defiant angle. His mournful eyes rather spoiled the effect, all red and droopy, screaming why me?

  “Hey, Buster,” said Will. “Wanna come back for a visit? I got Milk-Bones back there. You like Milk-Bones, right?”

  Buster shook his head, splattering drool everywhere. Bryant tugged on his collar to no avail.

  “I think he’s just scared,” said Serena. She looked pale herself, but she’d emerged from behind her desk, clutching a paper bag. “I was thinking, if it’s okay—well, I was reading online, how some dogs love blueberries. How even a handful can calm them right down. I brought some with my lunch, so I thought maybe, for Buster?” She glanced at Will, hopeful, and he found himself nodding.

  “Could be worth a try,” he said. “Worst case scenario, Buster gets a treat.”

  “Okay. Here goes nothing.” Serena dug in her lunch bag and pulled out a Tupperware box. Then she just stood there, clutching it to her chest. Her jaw had gone tight, her breathing quick and shallow.

  “Here, let me.” Will took the box from her and shook some berries into his palm. He held them out to Buster, shaking them around so he’d smell them. “Here, boy. Want a snack?”

  Buster perked up at that, his big wet nose twitching. He leaned forward, almost delicately, and snarfed up his treat.

  “That good, boy?” Bryant bent to scratch him behind his ears. “Go on, get up now. Tell the doc thanks.”

  Buster stood up and jammed his nose in Will’s crotch. Will shooed him off, laughing.

  “Well, I guess that’s close enough.” He held up the Tupperware and gave it a shake. “Now, come eat the rest of these while I check out those paws.”

  Buster followed obediently, sniffing after the berries. Bryant tipped his hat at Serena as he passed by her desk.

  “Thanks for that, ma’am. Us old boys get stubborn, but you’ve got that magic touch.”

  Will nodded his own thanks as he passed. Serena gave a weak smile in return, and Will wanted to hug her. She’d pushed through her fear to soothe Buster’s, and that meant a lot. He’d have to thank her properly once Bryant and Buster were gone.

  Serena set down her spray bottle, still glowing from Will’s praise. Nothing could take the shine off that, not even continuing to find splats of Buster’s drool hours after the fact. The glob on her desk had been an unpleasant discovery, but that had to be the last of it, unless he’d sprayed the ceiling.

  She glanced up—what if?—and the lights dimmed and flickered. She blinked, surprised, and they did it again. Something sizzed in the back, and Will cursed out loud.

  “Will? You okay back there?”

  “I’m good. I just—ow!” That sizz came again, and the lights blinked out. Serena dropped her washcloth and hurried to check on him. She found him doing a clumsy dance, trying to whack out a fire with a smoldering towel.

  “Uh-uh. Step aside.” She grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall and pointed it at the blaze, a melted wall outlet coughing orange flames. She doused it in powder, one blast to kill it and two to make sure.

  “Thanks for that,” said Will. “I don’t know what I was thinking, going at it with a towel.”

  “You’re just stressed, is all.” Serena set down the fire extinguisher and surveyed the damage. “That socket’s toast, and the wall’s good and blackened, but it could’ve been worse. What were you doing?”

  “Just moving the X-ray machine so I’d quit banging into it. But the second I plugged it in over here, whoosh. Up it went.” He held out his arm, scowling. “I’ve got little burn holes all up my sleeve.”

  “Better than up your arm.” Serena turned to him, not liking what she saw. Will had gone tense all over, like he was considering dealing the socket a kick.

  “It’s no big deal,” said Serena. “I’ve done worse in my kitchen, turned my wallpaper to kindling. It’s an old house, so the wiring can be touchy.”

  Will nodded absently, still staring at the socket. “Could you call the power company and put them through to my office?”

  “I could do that,” she said. “But I’d be on hold a while. How about we check your fuse box, see where that gets us?”

  “My fuse box. Right.” Will cleared his throat, cheeks coloring faintly.

  Serena just chuckled. “Like I said, I’ve got an old house. I’ve learned all the tricks—including dealing with flash fires and blown fuses.”

  “Is that so?” Will brushed ash off his sleeve. He seemed to have recovered his good humor, even mustering a grin. “Up for a trip to the basement? I’ve got to warn you, it’s daddy longlegs central down there.”

  “My son calls those budget spiders. They don’t even build webs.” Serena turned up her collar. “Still, that doesn’t mean I want one down my neck.”

  Will huffed laughter, and he clapped her on the shoulder. “Let me just grab my flashlight, and we’ll see what we’ve got.” He ducked into his office, and when he came back, he’d exchanged his white coat for a toolbox and a battered old flashlight. Its beam was bright and steady, and Serena was glad of it as she followed him downstairs.

  The basement was gloomy, old medical equipment casting strange shadows on the walls. Daddy longlegs hung in clusters, dead ones and live ones all bunched together. Somewhere, a pipe dripped, a damp, haunted sound. Serena suppressed a shudder. “Hey, isn’t that the fuse box?”

  “Where?”

  “Over there, by the...guillotine?” She pointed at a great, rusted blade festooned with cobwebs.

  “I think that’s for paper,” said Will. “Still, I ought to clean up down here. Someone could get hurt.” He wheeled the paper trimmer aside and swept dust off the fuse box. Serena sneezed twice, violently, and Will steadied her on her feet.

  “Sorry about that. I’ll try to be quick.” Will set down his toolbox and perched his flashlight on a shelf. He gave the front panel a jiggle, but it stuck fast. “Looks like it’s rusted shut. Let me grab a screwdriver.”

  Serena watched as he bent to rummage through his toolbox, faded old Wranglers stretched tight across his ass. He’d always been on the wiry side—but now he was sculpted, all sinew and cord. Muscles rippled in his arms as he rolled up his sleeves. He still had that farmer’s tan, deep tawny brown. An image flashed through her head: Will squinting into the sun on some far-flung ranch, shirt clinging tight where he’d sweated down his back. Maybe he’d strip it off and go for a swim. She could picture that too, water beading on his chest, streaming down his flat abs.

  “Got it.” Will stood up and caught her looking, and Serena turned away. Will jammed his screwdriver under the panel and wiggled it around. It popped open, showering rust flakes at his feet. He leaned in, eyes narrowed. “Now, which of you fuses went and bought the farm?”

  “They’re all pretty dusty,” said Serena. She moved in for a better look, and her breath caught in her throat. Will smelled amazing, like hot buttered toast and clean, fresh shampoo. She could feel the heat radiating off him in the cold, cramped basement. She edged closer without thinking, craving his warmth.

  “I think it’s this one,” said Will. He plucked out a fuse and held it up for her inspection. “Pretty burnt, huh?”

  “I’d say so,” breathed Serena. His face was inches from hers. She could see where he’d cut himself shaving, midway down his jaw. His eyes widened slightly, as though he’d just realized how close she was standing—close enough she could feel his breath on her cheek. Close enough to steal a kiss. Serena’s pulse raced, thundering in her ears.

  “We should put in the new one,” she said. Her voice seemed to come from somewhere very far away. “See if the lights come on.”

  “Hmm?” Will’s gaze was intense, his eyes dark and burning. The air hung heavy between them—hot and charged, crackling with electricity. Serena shivered all over.

  “The fuse,” she whispered. “Try the new one.”

  “Oh. Right. Of course.” Will gave a cough. He retrieved a fresh fuse and popped it in the socket. A faint, golden light filtered down from upstairs. “So, okay. That’s done.”

  “Your outlet’s still fried,” said Serena, pushing through the awkwardness. “We should stop by the hardware store, see about getting a replacement. Maybe a surge protector as well. I saw you don’t have one.”

  “Shouldn’t we call an electrician?”

  “For a burnt-out socket?” Serena chuckled. “I mean, we could. But it’s not a tough fix. Plus, I know Kara at Top Hardware. I’ll bet she’ll give us a deal if we make her our exclusive supplier.”