Chapter Three
“I’m just worried about her,” Eugene Pak said, shooting a look at his partner, Karl Reynolds, while he cradled their quivering dog in his lap. “I hate to see Bernadette uncomfortable. You know how happy she usually is when you walk in the room. This isn’t normal.”
The Pak-Reynolds family always added some much-needed sunshine to her schedule, even when they were dealing with senior dog challenges. They were always quick to set up an appointment when something felt off with Bernadette, their salt-and-pepper miniature Schnauzer, and they followed Morgan’s advice to the letter. A consult with them was usually enough to lift her spirits for the rest of the day.
Bernadette shifted in Karl’s lap, kicking her back legs against his stomach and groaning every so often. She was one of the smallest Schnauzers Morgan had ever met, weighing in at a whopping twelve pounds. The Pak-Reynoldses kept her silver beard precisely trimmed and her coat cut tight and neat against her body, leaving her leg fur a bit longer so it looked like she was wearing little pants.
“You’re right, she’s not herself. But you got her in quickly, so try not to stress out,” Morgan replied, meeting Eugene’s gaze with soft eyes for a moment before scrolling through her tablet. “We’ll have her feeling better in no time.”
“It’s my fault,” Karl said with a heavy exhale, running his hand through his coppery hair and making it stand up. He always wore head-to-toe black as if to try to tone down his ginger-ness, but the red swooping hair, full ruddy cheeks, and salt-and-paprika goatee defined the man. “I threw away the uncooked bacon and didn’t snap the lid shut on the trash can. She got into it and now . . .” He broke off with a frown and gestured to her.
“Accidents happen,” Morgan answered, dropping into her soothing voice. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
The low, reassuring tone was almost unconscious for her. Not that she didn’t feel the appropriate emotion behind it. The fact was, she felt too much of what went on in the exam rooms . . . despair, hopelessness, fear, worry. Didn’t matter if it was the person or the animal going through it, by the end of the day she wore their combined darkness like a heavy wool jacket. And since the news about Sophia the Friday before, it felt like she couldn’t take it off. The accompanying brain fog made it almost impossible to be present for her patients and clients.
“Dr. Pearce, did you hear me? Are you okay?”
She blinked at Eugene. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I asked if we need to adjust the time we do her next insulin injection.” He swept his eyes up and down Morgan’s body, pausing on her clogs, and frowned. “What’s going on? Something’s not right with you today.”
It didn’t surprise Morgan that he was calling her out, but she wasn’t sure if it was for her melancholy vibe or her rumpled clothing. Eugene Pak was the very definition of dapper, a sweater-vest, bow-tie, spit-shined-shoes kind of man with his own swoop of inky hair to complement Karl’s.
The Pak-Reynoldses had been bringing their medically fragile senior to see her since she’d started at the practice four years prior, and the line between clients and friends had quickly blurred. Even though they were home decorating celebrities with a social media empire, a bestselling book, and an upcoming design partnership with Target, they passed through the clinic like regular citizens. They considered Morgan a miracle worker since she’d diagnosed grumpy Bernadette’s diabetes and taught them how to do her three-times-a-day insulin injections in a way that the old lady could tolerate.
“No, I’m fine,” she lied. “Just a little distracted today. Sorry.”
“Hm, it’s more than that,” he continued, scanning her face. “Don’t hate me for saying this, but you look tired, like you just rolled out of bed.”
“Ouch, Eugene,” she said as she patted the messy bun on top of her head. He never sugarcoated anything, and she usually loved him for it, but this time he was hitting a little too close to home.
“Thanks for the fashion critique, but there’s not enough time to talk about my mess. Let’s get Bernadette feeling better, okay?”
He nodded, but Morgan got the sense that he wasn’t done with her.
Ten minutes later, she was back in the exam room after running some bloodwork to confirm her pancreatitis diagnosis and coming up with a treatment plan for them.
“Bernadette’s going to get some relief pretty quickly, so there’s no need to worry,” she said as she finished outlining everything. “Any questions for me?”
Eugene and Karl exchanged a look.
“Actually, yes,” Karl said, shifting Bernadette in his lap. “But it’s a strange request. Can we steal two more minutes with you?”
Morgan silenced the stopwatch ticking in her head and settled back against the counter. “Of course. What’s up?”
“We need a little help this summer,” Karl said.
“Don’t lie, we need a lot of help,” Eugene interjected. “And we figured you could point us in the right direction.”
Karl adjusted Bernadette gently. “Target launches this summer, in late June, and we’re going to be doing appearances in stores all over the country for it. But you know that to us, summer always means Nantucket.”
They’d invited her to visit them in their second home on Nantucket dozens of times over the years, but getting away for more than an overnight felt impossible.
“As much as we want to bring Bernie with us on tour, we know it’s not a good idea. Our old lady needs stability, and someone who can handle her, uh, quirks.” Karl gestured around Bernadette’s body as if it had a force field. “My mom was going to do it, but she broke her foot so she’s out of commission for a few months. That’s why we’re hoping you can recommend someone to stay with Bernie in Nantucket during the launch. We’ll be in and out, but we want someone to set up camp at the house to keep things easy for her. Now, it has to be someone with training, not just any teenage dummy who thinks they know dogs.”
Eugene tsked at Karl.
“Honestly? We would love for you to do it, but we know that’s not possible.” Karl paused and stared at Morgan. “It’s not . . . possible . . . is it?”
Is it?
For two glorious seconds Morgan envisioned spending the summer stretched out by the Pak-Reynoldses’ pool with Bernadette at her side and a cold beer and novel on a table next to her. The vision fizzled when a dog started howling just outside the exam room.
“I wish. But it’s just not possible. Let me think about if I know of any vet techs who might be interested.”
Eugene frowned. “We were hoping that by some miracle you’d be able to sneak away. No one can handle her the way you do, not even your best tech on staff here! Everyone gets freaked out by her . . . communication style.”
“Well, you gotta admit, old Bernie’s got some scary pipes,” Morgan said, nodding at the lovable curmudgeon on his lap.
“But she’s all bluster, she’s a total sweetheart outside of the office,” Karl said. “You know that. She doesn’t even notice her injections now.”
“And that’s why I’m sure we’ll be able to find someone who can handle her,” Morgan teased gently.
“We wish it could be you,” he said. “Some time away would do you good, young lady.”
“Karl, don’t pester her.” Eugene turned back to Morgan. “Please give it some thought and let us know if you come up with someone you think is worthy. It’s short notice, but hopefully a beautiful, mostly empty home on Nantucket plus a nice little paycheck will be enough to find the right fit.”
“Yes, would you like to see photos of the pool house? The dog sitter will have complete privacy,” Karl said, reaching for his phone. “It’s charming. Here, look.”
Morgan suspected that “charming” was an understatement. A tiny part of her wanted to see it but there was no need to torture herself with the missed opportunity.
“Stop trying to butter her up,” Eugene scolded, and pushed Karl’s phone away. “She’s a busy woman, she doesn’t have time to hang out in paradise with the best dog in the world.” He paused. “Although honestly? You look like you could use a vacation.”
Morgan laughed. “Are you guys negging me? I get it, I look tired, and I need a break. It’s just not possible for me right now, though. I’ll let you know if I think of anyone. Keep me posted on our girl, okay?”
“Always,” Karl answered as he stood up and adjusted Bernadette in his arms. “Thanks for taking such good care of her, you’re amazing and we worship you.”
Dopamine hit engaged. Thank you, gentlemen.
Morgan escaped through the door that led to the back room, unable to ignore her bladder before her next appointment. She nearly collided with her favorite vet tech, Rebecca, as she speed-walked to the bathroom.
“Hey, DeWitt is looking for you.”
“Okay, I just need to—” Morgan pointed down the hall and grimaced. “Do you know what it’s about?”
“Nope, but he didn’t look happy,” she replied, mimicking the man’s perma-frown.
The numbers conversation.
But she was prepared. A few extra hours on her laptop the night before meant that she was ready for battle.
Chapter Three
“I’m just worried about her,” Eugene Pak said, shooting a look at his partner, Karl Reynolds, while he cradled their quivering dog in his lap. “I hate to see Bernadette uncomfortable. You know how happy she usually is when you walk in the room. This isn’t normal.”
The Pak-Reynolds family always added some much-needed sunshine to her schedule, even when they were dealing with senior dog challenges. They were always quick to set up an appointment when something felt off with Bernadette, their salt-and-pepper miniature Schnauzer, and they followed Morgan’s advice to the letter. A consult with them was usually enough to lift her spirits for the rest of the day.
Bernadette shifted in Karl’s lap, kicking her back legs against his stomach and groaning every so often. She was one of the smallest Schnauzers Morgan had ever met, weighing in at a whopping twelve pounds. The Pak-Reynoldses kept her silver beard precisely trimmed and her coat cut tight and neat against her body, leaving her leg fur a bit longer so it looked like she was wearing little pants.
“You’re right, she’s not herself. But you got her in quickly, so try not to stress out,” Morgan replied, meeting Eugene’s gaze with soft eyes for a moment before scrolling through her tablet. “We’ll have her feeling better in no time.”
“It’s my fault,” Karl said with a heavy exhale, running his hand through his coppery hair and making it stand up. He always wore head-to-toe black as if to try to tone down his ginger-ness, but the red swooping hair, full ruddy cheeks, and salt-and-paprika goatee defined the man. “I threw away the uncooked bacon and didn’t snap the lid shut on the trash can. She got into it and now . . .” He broke off with a frown and gestured to her.
“Accidents happen,” Morgan answered, dropping into her soothing voice. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
The low, reassuring tone was almost unconscious for her. Not that she didn’t feel the appropriate emotion behind it. The fact was, she felt too much of what went on in the exam rooms . . . despair, hopelessness, fear, worry. Didn’t matter if it was the person or the animal going through it, by the end of the day she wore their combined darkness like a heavy wool jacket. And since the news about Sophia the Friday before, it felt like she couldn’t take it off. The accompanying brain fog made it almost impossible to be present for her patients and clients.
“Dr. Pearce, did you hear me? Are you okay?”
She blinked at Eugene. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I asked if we need to adjust the time we do her next insulin injection.” He swept his eyes up and down Morgan’s body, pausing on her clogs, and frowned. “What’s going on? Something’s not right with you today.”
It didn’t surprise Morgan that he was calling her out, but she wasn’t sure if it was for her melancholy vibe or her rumpled clothing. Eugene Pak was the very definition of dapper, a sweater-vest, bow-tie, spit-shined-shoes kind of man with his own swoop of inky hair to complement Karl’s.
The Pak-Reynoldses had been bringing their medically fragile senior to see her since she’d started at the practice four years prior, and the line between clients and friends had quickly blurred. Even though they were home decorating celebrities with a social media empire, a bestselling book, and an upcoming design partnership with Target, they passed through the clinic like regular citizens. They considered Morgan a miracle worker since she’d diagnosed grumpy Bernadette’s diabetes and taught them how to do her three-times-a-day insulin injections in a way that the old lady could tolerate.
“No, I’m fine,” she lied. “Just a little distracted today. Sorry.”
“Hm, it’s more than that,” he continued, scanning her face. “Don’t hate me for saying this, but you look tired, like you just rolled out of bed.”
“Ouch, Eugene,” she said as she patted the messy bun on top of her head. He never sugarcoated anything, and she usually loved him for it, but this time he was hitting a little too close to home.
“Thanks for the fashion critique, but there’s not enough time to talk about my mess. Let’s get Bernadette feeling better, okay?”
He nodded, but Morgan got the sense that he wasn’t done with her.
Ten minutes later, she was back in the exam room after running some bloodwork to confirm her pancreatitis diagnosis and coming up with a treatment plan for them.
“Bernadette’s going to get some relief pretty quickly, so there’s no need to worry,” she said as she finished outlining everything. “Any questions for me?”
Eugene and Karl exchanged a look.
“Actually, yes,” Karl said, shifting Bernadette in his lap. “But it’s a strange request. Can we steal two more minutes with you?”
Morgan silenced the stopwatch ticking in her head and settled back against the counter. “Of course. What’s up?”
“We need a little help this summer,” Karl said.
“Don’t lie, we need a lot of help,” Eugene interjected. “And we figured you could point us in the right direction.”
Karl adjusted Bernadette gently. “Target launches this summer, in late June, and we’re going to be doing appearances in stores all over the country for it. But you know that to us, summer always means Nantucket.”
They’d invited her to visit them in their second home on Nantucket dozens of times over the years, but getting away for more than an overnight felt impossible.
“As much as we want to bring Bernie with us on tour, we know it’s not a good idea. Our old lady needs stability, and someone who can handle her, uh, quirks.” Karl gestured around Bernadette’s body as if it had a force field. “My mom was going to do it, but she broke her foot so she’s out of commission for a few months. That’s why we’re hoping you can recommend someone to stay with Bernie in Nantucket during the launch. We’ll be in and out, but we want someone to set up camp at the house to keep things easy for her. Now, it has to be someone with training, not just any teenage dummy who thinks they know dogs.”
Eugene tsked at Karl.
“Honestly? We would love for you to do it, but we know that’s not possible.” Karl paused and stared at Morgan. “It’s not . . . possible . . . is it?”
Is it?
For two glorious seconds Morgan envisioned spending the summer stretched out by the Pak-Reynoldses’ pool with Bernadette at her side and a cold beer and novel on a table next to her. The vision fizzled when a dog started howling just outside the exam room.
“I wish. But it’s just not possible. Let me think about if I know of any vet techs who might be interested.”
Eugene frowned. “We were hoping that by some miracle you’d be able to sneak away. No one can handle her the way you do, not even your best tech on staff here! Everyone gets freaked out by her . . . communication style.”
“Well, you gotta admit, old Bernie’s got some scary pipes,” Morgan said, nodding at the lovable curmudgeon on his lap.
“But she’s all bluster, she’s a total sweetheart outside of the office,” Karl said. “You know that. She doesn’t even notice her injections now.”
“And that’s why I’m sure we’ll be able to find someone who can handle her,” Morgan teased gently.
“We wish it could be you,” he said. “Some time away would do you good, young lady.”
“Karl, don’t pester her.” Eugene turned back to Morgan. “Please give it some thought and let us know if you come up with someone you think is worthy. It’s short notice, but hopefully a beautiful, mostly empty home on Nantucket plus a nice little paycheck will be enough to find the right fit.”
“Yes, would you like to see photos of the pool house? The dog sitter will have complete privacy,” Karl said, reaching for his phone. “It’s charming. Here, look.”
Morgan suspected that “charming” was an understatement. A tiny part of her wanted to see it but there was no need to torture herself with the missed opportunity.
“Stop trying to butter her up,” Eugene scolded, and pushed Karl’s phone away. “She’s a busy woman, she doesn’t have time to hang out in paradise with the best dog in the world.” He paused. “Although honestly? You look like you could use a vacation.”
Morgan laughed. “Are you guys negging me? I get it, I look tired, and I need a break. It’s just not possible for me right now, though. I’ll let you know if I think of anyone. Keep me posted on our girl, okay?”
“Always,” Karl answered as he stood up and adjusted Bernadette in his arms. “Thanks for taking such good care of her, you’re amazing and we worship you.”
Dopamine hit engaged. Thank you, gentlemen.
Morgan escaped through the door that led to the back room, unable to ignore her bladder before her next appointment. She nearly collided with her favorite vet tech, Rebecca, as she speed-walked to the bathroom.
“Hey, DeWitt is looking for you.”
“Okay, I just need to—” Morgan pointed down the hall and grimaced. “Do you know what it’s about?”
“Nope, but he didn’t look happy,” she replied, mimicking the man’s perma-frown.
The numbers conversation.
But she was prepared. A few extra hours on her laptop the night before meant that she was ready for battle.
/
