Page 9 of Redeeming Harmony

“Isn’t he?” she said as Hal slid the needle into Pumpkin’s neck. She tightened her hold on the cat and rubbed the top of his head with her chin when he meowed. “You’re okay, buddy. Almost done.”

“Nathan isn’t forcing your dad into retirement,” Hal said.

“Dad didn’t mention any plans to retire when I left for New York,” Harper said. “Not once. Then six months after this Henshaw guy starts at the clinic, he offers to buy it, and now retirement is all Dad can talk about.”

“Not retirement,” Hal said patiently as he slid the needle out. Harper applied thumb pressure to the area as Hal filled the blood vials.

“Dad said he wanted to retire,” Harper said.

“He wants to work part time,” Hal said.

Harper scowled. “That’s basically retirement.”

Hal laughed. “No, it isn’t.”

“I just think,” Harper said, “that there’s something hinky about Henshaw offering to buy Dad’s clinic so soon after he started here.”

“It is a little quick,’ Hal admitted, “but for the most part, the town folk seem to like him.”

“The most part?” Harper pounced. “Who hates him and why?”

Hal laughed again before checking Pumpkin’s neck. “The usual group of folks who are suspicious of anyone who isn’t from the Falls. That group seems to be getting a new member.”

She scowled at him. “I’m not suspicious of outsiders. I’m just suspicious of someone who’s trying to force Dad to give up the career he loves.”

“It’s not like that,” Hal said patiently. “I think you need to speak with your dad.”

“I will,” Harper said. “But I want to get your opinion on Henshaw.”

“I told you, I think he’s a good guy. He’s already made it clear that all of our jobs are safe and that nothing drastic will change once he takes over the clinic. It’ll be business as usual, and I appreciate that. I love it here, and at my advanced age, starting over again at a new job wouldn’t be easy.”

“Your advanced age?” Harper rolled her eyes. “You’re not even fifty.”

“I’m fifty-two,” he said.

“That’s hardly old,” she said.

Hal picked up Pumpkin and stroked the cat’s side. “I know you want me to say I hate Nathan, and your dad is making a mistake, but that’s not how I feel, kid. Talk to your dad, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” she said. “Did you see the stray we brought in last night?”

“I did. He’s nothing but skin and bones, poor guy.”

“How’s he doing this morning?”

“Good. He’s been getting small meals every couple of hours and eating them with,” Hal smiled, “great enthusiasm. Friendly guy. His hip hasn’t popped back out, so your dad and Nathan are cautiously hopeful.”

He glanced at his watch. “I need to get Princess weighed and checked in. Can you do me a favour and take your stray out into the yard for a potty break?”

“Sure,” she said.

Harper made her way back to the dog kennel. The shepherd was in the farthest of the three runs, lying on a soft blanket. He stared up at her, his tail thumping softly against the blanket. An Ehmer sling was on his left leg, and a cone was placed around his neck to stop him from chewing at the sling.

Each run had a metal clip next to the door where a reusable laminated sheet held basic information on the animal and their medication, feeding, and potty break schedule. Harper studied the shepherd for a few minutes before grabbing a dry erase marker and writing ‘Winston’ in the blank space for his name.

“You look like a Winston to me, buddy. Do you like that name?”

The dog’s tail thumped harder, and he raised his head. Harper smiled at him. “Winston, it is.”

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