Hannah's List (13 page)

“Okay.”

I started out of the office, grateful this meeting was over.

“I’m sorry I was late,” she said as she began to leave.

“Apology accepted. Oh, can I see the photos you brought?” I remembered that was why she’d kept me waiting an additional thirty-five minutes.

“Yes, I almost forgot. I think Lovie might’ve chewed on the corners of a couple of them, but you’ll get a good idea of the work I do.”

I still didn’t know who Lovie was, nor did I want to ask.

She brought the photos out of her purse and handed them to me. The edges had been chewed on—and recently, I noticed, since they were moist. I shuffled through the first few and thought she did an adequate
job. Her work was at least as good as that of the artist Patrick had used.

“Well?” she said expectantly.

“You’ll do. Based on the acceptability of the sketches, of course—and the terms of this so-called favor.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “I’ll get back to you next week.”

“Fine.”

She yanked the photos out of my hand, turned and walked out the door.

For the life of me I couldn’t imagine why Hannah would ever think I’d be interested in someone like Macy Roth.

D
r. Michael Everett was a jerk. Macy couldn’t understand why a woman as kind and compassionate as Hannah would marry such a…a stuffed shirt.

She left the office building and drove home, muttering under her breath. She couldn’t get away from that unpleasant man fast enough. He’d gotten all bent out of shape because she was a few minutes late. It wasn’t like the entire world revolved around
him!

Back in her own neighborhood, Macy released a deep sigh and felt the tension ease from her neck and shoulders. Men like Dr. Everett were one reason she couldn’t hold down a regular nine-to-five job. She’d never survive in an office, because she couldn’t bite her tongue; it just wasn’t in her.

Ten minutes with him had been a severe challenge.

When she reached her front porch, Macy found Sammy curled up on the welcome mat, his chin resting on his paws.

“Did Harvey lock you out again?” she asked. Poor Sammy didn’t know where else to go. Macy had dutifully taken him to the vet for a checkup, hoping he’d have a microchip; of course he didn’t. The good news was that he’d been neutered—one less expense for her. It also proved that once upon a time he’d had a loving, or at least decent, home. She’d posted Sammy’s picture on every telephone pole in a mile’s radius, along with her cell phone number. So far she hadn’t received a single response. He was such a gentle dog and he’d done wonders for Harvey, although her neighbor would never admit it.

Despite his protests to the contrary, Harvey liked Sammy. He grumbled about how much the dog ate and that he brought fleas into the house, which wasn’t true. Still, she saw Harvey place his hand on the dog’s head and pat it. Sammy provided companionship when she wasn’t around and he was a good watchdog, too. No squirrel had gotten into Harvey’s backyard bird feeder since Sammy’s arrival.

“Where’s Harvey?” Macy asked, bending down to stroke his fur.

Sammy looked up at her with his doleful dark eyes.

“I’ll bet he just forgot and locked the door,” she reassured him. This had happened a couple of times already. When it did, Sammy wandered over to Macy’s and set up residence on her porch. Unfortunately Snowball objected vigorously whenever Macy let him in the house.
The cat apparently considered it his duty to maintain a dog-free zone.

Sammy rose and started down the steps. He paused halfway to look over his shoulder, as though urging her to follow.

“Okay, I’ll come,” she said.

Instead of heading for Harvey’s front door as he usually did, Sammy led her to the backyard.

Macy saw Harvey’s hat first. Harvey was never outside without his hat. Immediately, she felt a jolt of alarm. Increasing her pace, she trotted anxiously into his yard, clambering none too gracefully over the low picket fence.

“I should charge you with trespassing,” Harvey mumbled.

Macy whirled around to find him sitting on a lawn chair. From his position she was sure he’d collapsed into it. The fact that he was in the chair without his hat told her he’d been too weak to retrieve it.

“Harvey,” she cried, kneeling down in front of him, giving him his hat. “What
happened?”

“Nothing.”

He was deathly pale and seemed to have trouble breathing. Macy didn’t know what to do. “I’m calling 9-1-1.” She heard the panic in her voice despite her efforts to remain calm.

“Don’t,” he said, his breathing labored. He pressed one hand over his heart and held her forearm with the other.

“Harvey! Something’s wrong with you.”

“Is not,” he argued. “Now leave me alone.”

“I am not leaving you.”

“Scat, girl. Get off my property.”

“If I do that, then I’m calling emergency services.”

Harvey managed a grin. “You’re an evil woman.”

“Uh-huh.” Macy sat cross-legged on the lawn. She pulled up a blade of grass as if she felt carefree and relaxed when her heart was actually beating at an alarming rate. “I’m staying here until I’m convinced you’re all right.”

Harvey muttered under his breath.

Sammy lay down next to Macy and focused his gaze on the old man. She could tell he was worried, too.

“I just met the most unpleasant person,” Macy said, figuring that if she could distract Harvey he might agree to let her call for help.

“Anyone I know?”

“I doubt it.” She made a face. “He got all nasty because I was a few minutes late.”

Harvey grinned. “You’re always late.”

That was a gross overstatement. “Not true! I
try
to be on time.” And she did. But the world seemed to conspire against her. Invariably something would delay her. Like today—She couldn’t leave the house while Lovie was crying. Besides, that man had asked to see pictures of her work. Then he had the audacity to complain because she’d taken the time to comply.

Despite her efforts, she’d been cursed with this proclivity for being late. If it wasn’t one reason, it was another: a missing cat, an unexpected delivery, a desperate phone call from a friend. The timing was uncanny.

“He’s such a pompous jerk.”

“Who?”

“This doctor I met,” she said, wondering why he still lingered in her mind.

“What kind of doctor is he?”

“A pediatrician who believes he’s the center of the universe. He had a really wonderful wife, too.”

“Had?”

“She died.” Macy grew quiet. “I liked her so much. She had the most gentle, loving spirit.”

Harvey snickered.

“Oh, come on, Harvey, haven’t you ever met someone who’s truly good? Someone you feel an instant camaraderie with?”

“No.”

“Not even me?” she teased.

Harvey snickered again. “Hardly. You’re lucky I put up with you.”

“Am I really that difficult?” Okay, so she wasn’t everyone’s idea of the perfect neighbor—or girlfriend or employee. Macy tried to conform whenever possible, but she wasn’t too successful at taking directions from others. She needed her freedom, always had. Her Grandma Lotty had called her a free spirit, but unfortunately, even free spirits needed money, which meant Macy had to work. Her problem, aside from a resistance to following orders, was the fact that she got bored if she had to do one thing for any length of time.

Painting murals, for instance. She’d tackle a project and would work on it intensively for a week. Once she was
finished, she was
finished;
she never wanted to see that painting again. She’d be physically exhausted and mentally depleted. Two or three days would pass before she found the energy to accept another assignment. It was the same with knitting. She probably had a dozen half-completed projects lying around. The vest for Harvey was the current one, and she was determined to get it done by the fall.

She needed variety.

“This doctor upset you, didn’t he?”

Macy nodded. “He was a major disappointment.” She’d expected more of the man Hannah had married. He must have
some
redeeming quality, although it hadn’t been apparent in their initial meeting.

“Don’t do it,” Harvey advised.

That had been her first inclination, too. “You mean you think I shouldn’t paint the mural?”

“You don’t like him?”

“Well…I suspect it was more of a case of him not liking me.”

Harvey shook his head. “That I can understand.”

“Harvey!” She slapped his arm. He was feeling better, she could tell; still, she wasn’t prepared to leave until she was sure he’d completely recovered. They’d happened before, these spells of his. She thought it might be his heart, but there was no real way of knowing unless Harvey underwent a physical exam. And Harvey, being Harvey, was dead set against stepping foot inside a medical office. No amount of wheedling would convince him to make an appointment.

“Tell the doctor you’re not interested in the job,” Harvey said again.

“I need the money.”

“What for?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said playfully, raising her arms in a shrug. “It’s just that I’ve grown accustomed to certain luxuries—like
eating regular meals.”
She’d like to see Harvey placate three hungry cats without any cat food on hand. That was one lesson she’d learned the hard way. Her cats had not been fooled nor were they amused when she’d served them Cheerios for breakfast. Okay, fine, that had only happened once, but they’d made their disgust quite plain. At least they’d lapped up the milk.

“Speaking of meals,” she began.

“Were we?”

“Yes, I was talking about how fond I am of little things like breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

“Right,” he muttered.

His agreeing with her was unusual enough to get her attention. “When’s the last time you ate?”

He frowned as though deep in thought. “A while ago.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“This morning.”

That might explain why Harvey appeared to be light-headed.

“I think,” he added.

Well, no wonder, then. “Stay put,” she ordered as she rose to her feet.

“You talking to me or that mangy mutt?”

Macy smiled. “Both of you. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t hurry on my account and don’t be bringing me anything from your fridge. I remember the last time you decided I needed to eat.” He cringed at the memory, and Macy rolled her eyes.

“You liked it,” she told him.

“Until I learned I was eating
health
food.” He nearly spat out the word.

“Tofu is excellent for you. And you didn’t mind it when you thought it was chicken.” She’d told that little white lie for his own good.

“I had indigestion for a week.”

“I’ll bring you canned soup,” she promised. Her cupboards were looking like Mother Hubbard’s, except for a case of tomato soup she’d picked up a month or so earlier. A bowl of that would be easy on Harvey’s empty stomach. She’d heat some up and bring it to him.

“What’s it got in it?”

“Tomatoes.”

“How can I believe you?” He snorted. “You already tried to fool me once.”

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it,” she told him.

“I don’t like it.”

“You haven’t tasted it yet.”

“I won’t like it,” he insisted.

“You sound like a two-year-old.”

Macy refused to argue with him any further. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“Take your time,” Harvey said. “In fact, take all the time you want—like a year or two.”

“A bad mood is merely a symptom of being hungry or tired.”

“Maybe that was your doctor’s problem. Maybe he was hungry or tired.”

Macy pretended not to hear as she climbed over the fence and walked in her back door. She really should remember to lock it. Someone might actually break in one day. Not that a thief would ever find anything.

Heating up the soup took only a few minutes. She carried out a bowl using both hands, with a sleeve of soda crackers tucked under her arm. Harvey’s eyes were closed and his hand rested on Sammy’s head. He removed it when he heard her coming.

“I was napping,” he complained. “You woke me up.”

“Here.”

“I said I don’t want that.”

“Harvey, don’t make me spoon-feed you.”

He seemed to weigh his options, then sat up straighter and reached for the bowl.

Macy waited until he’d taken his first spoonful. His eyed widened and he looked genuinely surprised. “This isn’t bad.”

“Told you so.”

Macy returned to the kitchen and prepared a second bowl for herself. Her cats weren’t pleased to see her go, especially so soon after she’d come home. They wove between her feet, purring loudly in protest.

“I’ll be back in a little while,” she said, bringing her own soup outside.

She stepped over the fence again and reclaimed her place on the lawn next to Harvey. Sammy gazed at her bowl of soup and seemed to decide she could have it all to herself. Macy ruffled his ears.

“Find the owner of that dog yet?” Harvey asked.

“Nope.”

“He can’t stay here.”

“Okay, Harvey.”

“I mean it this time.”

“Of course, Harvey.”

“Why do you agree with everything I say, especially when we both know you don’t mean a word of it?”

She grinned and helped herself to a couple of crackers. “It’s just my nature, I guess.”

He ignored that and looked at her thoughtfully. His soup was only half-eaten when he set it aside. “You figure out what you’re going to do?” he asked.

“About what?”

“That doctor.”

“Oh, him.” Macy had almost managed to forget that unpleasant man and wasn’t happy about the reminder.

“You didn’t like him.”

“No.”

“Then don’t work for him.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t.” Michael Everett would probably criticize every detail of the mural. Working for him was guaranteed to be completely and totally frustrating.

Macy glanced at the house and saw all three of her cats sitting on the windowsill, watching her. It was their dinnertime. She’d need to buy cat food soon, since she didn’t want a repeat of the Cheerios incident. Harvey had a point; she could turn down the job. But that would be foolish, especially when the first of the month was fast approaching.

“You thinking about what I said?” Harvey asked.

“I am.”

“What did you decide?”

She settled back on the grass, supporting her weight on the palms of her hands. “I’m thinking I’ll paint that mural.”

The old man grinned as if he’d known all along that was what she’d do.

“But I won’t like it,” she added emphatically.