All this means that when Gray asks Simon to care for the dog, Simon has no choice . . . and Gray will never realize that. To him, obviously, Simon could say no. He will even make that clear. But people in power don’t always realize the effects of that power. That’s why it’s better for me to ask and frame it as a question from me, his coworker. Then, if Simon agrees, Gray will quietly find a way to compensate him—extra pay or extra time off. Gray has that part down pat; it’s the not-really-a-request part he doesn’t understand.
I wait until Gray has gone in. Then I head into the stable, only to see a sharp-featured twenty-year-old barreling down the stairs while pulling on his jacket.
Spotting me, Simon stops short and looks over my shoulder.
“The boss has gone inside,” I say, “and is not in need of the coach.”
This is what it means to be a “good” groom—constantly on alert in case your employer needs you, rushing down at the sound of his boots in the courtyard. When I say Gray is gone, Simon visibly relaxes and slings his jacket over his arm.
“I have a big ask,” I say.
His lips twitch at my wording. I could say it in a more period-appropriate way, but I’ve learned to see this as a sign of trust around friends, even those who don’t know my story. Suppressing my peculiarities makes it seem as if I can’t be myself around them.
Simon was Catriona’s friend. Maybe her only real one. He grieves for her, but I’d never lie and pretend I remember him. That would be disrespectful. Instead, I’ve gotten to know him as myself, and I’d like to think we’re friends.
“A big ask,” he repeats.
“It’s about the dog.” My gaze moves to the sooty terrier clinging to my calves. “You may have noticed it.”
“Are you certain that’s a dog? And not a mop-head attached to your skirts? It certainly looks like it.”
I explain the story.
“That is a poor substitute for Bobby.” He crouches and puts out a hand for the dog to sniff. “Which sounded like an insult. I apologize, little one. I only meant that you do not much look like him. Despite that brown dirt.”
“I’d like to clean him up,” I say.
“Her.”
I glance to see that the dog is sitting, giving Simon the appropriate view.
“Ah,” I say. “Her. Also, I didn’t bring her home on purpose. She followed us.”
His lips twitch again, eyes dancing. “I can see that. She recognized a fellow stray, heading to a lovely home full of strays.”
“True,” I say with a smile. “But there’s no way Mrs. Wallace is letting her inside. I didn’t even want Dr. Gray to ask.”
“Mrs. Wallace hates to refuse him. So I presume your ‘big ask’ is that you would like the dog to stay here.”
“Temporarily. Until I can clean her up and we can find someone to take her in.” I look down as she leans into Simon’s scratches. “She seems very sweet.”
“She does, and I would be happy to let her stay in the barn.” He rubs her ears. “I might even let her up into my room if she is clean.”
“I’ll do that after dinner.”
He shakes his head. “I have everything I need here.” He waves at the stable with Folly in her stall. “I will think of her as a very small horse.”
“I would appreciate that,” I say. “And I’ll owe you.”
His smile turns to a grin. “You will. Because it is a huge ask. I hate dogs.”
“I can tell.”
He pats the dog one more time and stands. “Go on, then. It’s dinner time, and they will be waiting. When you see this little girl again, she will glow.”
Chapter Six
I slip in the town house back door to hear a voice that makes me glow. McCreadie is here. He must have come to dinner, which is perfect timing for discussing the case. But I’m also smiling because I’ve missed him. He used to be a regular fixture at the town house. He’s been best friends with Gray since childhood, and the three of them—Gray, McCreadie, and Isla—formed the perfect friend trio, with balanced personalities and a lifetime bond.
