Ismiled when I heard Doc Wilson’s old Ford pickup turn up the lane. His truck rattled down the drive, sounding tired. The old engine coughed twice, protesting the climb, then quieted in front of the porch. I wiped my hands on a dish towel and met him halfway; the way his smile faltered, and his hands clenched the wheel had me guessing this wasn’t just a social call. He had a lot on his mind, and I was about to hear it.
I’d already stacked the feed bins and washed the last of the buckets in the barn, folded a load of laundry, and cleaned up dinner, expecting nothing more than an ordinary evening of movies and popcorn with Austin. Us arguing playfully about which movie to watch or which flavor of popcorn is better—kettle or caramel.
Doc parked crooked near the porch, the engine ticking as it cooled. I wiped my hands on my jeans and met him halfway, Inspector trotting beside me.
“Evenin’, Doc,” I said.
“Evenin’ sweetheart,” he answered, stepping down stiff-legged. “Coffee still legal in this house?”
“Always. Do you want it in a mug or an IV?”
Doc laughed. “A mug’ll do.” He took off his hat and followed me back inside. The kitchen still smelled of cedar smoke and ribs from the smoked BBQ ribs and potatoes we’d had for dinner. Doc placed a paper plate of oatmeal cookies on the counter. “Something sweet from Mrs. Winslow,” he said, opening the clear wrap and snagging one for himself.
I opened the rest and placed them in a Tupperware, leaving them on the counter in case he wanted more. I poured two mugs of coffee, adding creamer to mine. Doc took his black, same as always. He settled himself at the table, sitting in one of the chairs with a sigh. I’d heard it before. In fact, I’d made that same sound when I was back in school, getting up at 4 to study for the next exam, pulling all-nighters with a pregnant mare having trouble foaling, staying up for three days with an alpaca that got tangled up with a coyote, or handling a last-minute emergency that lasted hours after closing. It came from years of getting up before dawn, leaving after everyone had already gone, and doing it again tomorrow.
“Place is lookin’ good,” he said, eyes sweeping the house. “You’ve done more organizing in six months than I managed in six years.”
“That’s because you were actually working,” I teased. “I just have a pop-up every now and then.”
He smiled at that but didn’t answer right away. The light cutting across his lined face softened everything except his eyes—the same eyes that could spot a tick from twenty paces.
“You ever get tired, Milly?” he asked finally.
I took a breath and nodded. “Are you okay, Doc?” I had a feeling this was going somewhere, that something was wrong.
He nodded, almost to himself. “That’s the thing. I’m tired. I’ve been doing this for so long, my ankles hurt. I’m tired most mornings, and even Sandy has been itching these last few years. I’ve been waiting for a sign, or an answer, and I think you’re it.The way I figure, maybe I’d better quit before I start forgettin’ what I’m doing.”
My stomach fluttered. “Doc,” I paused, digesting what he was saying. “Are you trying to tell me you’re retiring?”
“I think so. The truth is, Milly, the only reason I hung on this long was ‘cause Everwood didn’t have another vet. I couldn’t stand the idea of these folks haulin’ their stock to Red Hollow.” He took a sip of coffee, watching me over the rim. “They’ve been counting on me for so long I felt obligated to stay, no matter how old I got. But after seein’ you handle the pop-up clinics and seeing how everyone’s taken to you, it kinda feels like the good Lord has sent me a blessing. I was sad to see Penny go, but you’ve filled this house and the town with a heart just as sweet as hers.”
I blinked. I didn’t know what to say to the praise of being like Penny or that he felt I’m worthy to take his place.
“I mean, that’s only if you feel obliged.” He set his cup down with a soft thud. “You’ve got steady hands and a good head. Folks trust you. Question is—would you even want it?” I could hear the softness in his voice and the weight he’d carried for years. Doc was sad to let it all go. He’d run that clinic from his house for years and now he was letting go.
It felt like the kitchen tilted a little. All the days I’d told myself not to dream too big came rushing back, colliding with the truth that I already loved this work too much to stop.
“Yes,” I said. My voice came out small, then stronger. “Yes, I’d want it.”
Doc’s mouth curved into that slow, tired smile of his. “Knew it. Penny would’ve liked that answer.” He reached across the table, his grip warm and calloused. “You’re a fine vet, Doc Thomas. We’ll take a few weeks, get the papers straight, tell the town proper. I’ll finish out the fall, you start building whatever comes next.”
I stared past him, out the window at the barn. “I’ve been thinking about turning the loft and the east stalls into exam space. Nothing fancy. Just clean, warm, and close.”
He followed my gaze and nodded, eyes gone distant. “Funny thing—you’re not the first to think it. Penny talked the same way near the end. Ordered some cupboards and counters, maybe even a sign. Said she’d surprise me with a ‘branch office,’ her words. I always figured she cancelled the order when she got sick.”
My pulse skipped. “Thought I saw something in the back of the old barn, but haven’t gotten to it yet.”
“It should still be back there somewhere under tarp and dust. Surprised you haven’t tripped over it yet.”
“I’ve been meaning to.” Truth be told, it felt like I’d changed so much I was afraid to disturb it.
“Then get to it,” he said, pushing up from the chair. “You’ll need the space; you can’t use my garage like I do. You’ll need a place of your own.”
He shrugged on his jacket and gave me that half salute he always used. “Give me a month. I’ll tidy my records, you start scrubbin’ that barn. Come November, Everwood’ll have a new doc.”
I followed him out to his truck, still holding my mug. The engine coughed twice before catching. He rolled down the window, eyes soft. “You’ll do fine, Milly. Place already feels like yours.”
Before he drove off, a thought occurred to me. “Hey there, Doc. What are you going to do? I mean, when I take over?”
