He smirked. “Now don’t you worry about me and the Mrs. I’ve done well for myself, and once upon a time, my brother was an investment banker. I’m going to be just fine.” He placed his truck in reverse and started backing up. “Don’t look so shocked. This’ll be fun.” He called out of the window before pulling away.When his taillights disappeared beyond the pines, the quiet hit me like a starting gun.
I stood there until the sound faded, the world suddenly too still. The words echoed in my chest—You’ll do fine.
Back in the kitchen, it hit me all at once.
A sound escaped my throat—a laugh-squeal hybrid, a sound that sent Inspector into hiding.
Just then, the screen door banged open. “What happened?” Austin called, boots pounding through the house. “You all right? What’s wrong?”
“I—” My words got all tangled up, and a grin spread across my face. “He’s retiring! Doc Wilson’s actually retiring, and get this, he’s giving me the practice! Starting mid-November or when I get the barn-dash-clinic all squared away.”
Before I could stop myself, I launched myself at him, the momentum knocking a surprised laugh out of him. His arms caught me automatically.
“For real?” he said against my hair, still half-shocked.
“For real!”
When I pulled back, his eyes were wide—in astonishment. My hands were still on his shoulders, and his stayed on my waist. For a breath, neither of us moved.
Then he smiled, slow and genuine. “Guess Everwood’s got itself a new doc.”
“That’s what he said, and a lot of work ahead,” I said, breathless.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He released me gently, the air between us alive with everything unspoken and everything perfectly clear.
“Go tell Pumpernickel the good news,” he said, voice low with amusement. “I’ll start the coffee again—you look like you might combust.”
I laughed, the sound bubbling out of me before I could stop it. “You’re not wrong.”
I turned back toward the barn, heart thudding. “You hear that, Pumpernickel?” I said. The hedgehog blinked, unimpressed. “We’ve got work to do.”
He just burrowed under his shavings and puffed. I knew he’d be happy for me.
After another decaf coffee, Austin and I said good night. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.
The barn smelled like hay and dust. It was huge, though. It had all the bones of a clinic; it just needed a few touch-ups. I’d only been using the first two stalls on the west side, but the barn offered more than just a few stalls. I don’t know what Penny had planned, but the space could work out perfectly.
I drew a small, not-to-scale blueprint last night. I was too excited to sleep. Pumpernickel judged me from the corner of my room, his little beaded eyes staring me down half the night. But in the end, I think I figured out what I’ll do.
There’s no reason to go all out right now. That’s something I can do as I grow, but I should at least get a running start. Small rural towns don’t just have dogs and cats. Even Lacie, one of Cassie’s students, has a skink, snake, and a lizard, I believe. I mean, I grazed the subjects in school, but I’ll have to brush up on my reptiles.
That led me to the thought. The barn has a lot going for it. I often wondered if Penny was going to raise prized horses, given how the barn was designed. It was laid out in a U-shape. It had 10 stalls on the west side, and 3 were large enough for what I would only assume were meant for draft horses. The back wall had 3 rooms with kennels in them for what, I didn’t know, and a room for storage or tack, I guess. The east walls were made up of rooms that were unfinished. That’s what gave me the idea for a clinic. The middle section was divided in half: the back half hadwash stables, and the front was an office. Come to think of it, maybe Aunt Penny got further than Doc Wilson was giving her credit for. The setup was pretty perfect.
Janet, the old mare next to my mare Emma, snorted, bringing me back to reality. In the inheritance, I was given the house, three barns, a chicken coop with 11 chickens, an outside goat pen with 2 goats and a goat house, fifty head of cattle that the ranch hands tended, and 3 horses. Janet, a sweet old mare that was too old to ride; Emma, a dapple gray mare that was sweet and sassy when she didn’t get her way; and a gelding named Jax that Penny was pet-sitting but the owners never came back for. I’ve adopted him as mine, and he is the gentlest boy.
Austin was out on the far pasture checking cameras, so it was just me, the dust, three horses, and the occasional chicken that wandered in. I rolled up my sleeves and pulled the tarps off the nearest pile. Beneath one lay an old metal cabinet still wrapped in shipping plastic. Another corner revealed metal counters, the edges rounded, and a wooden desk, its live edge scalloped by years of storage but never used.
An oval shape leaned against the back wall, draped in canvas. My fingers shook as I tugged the cloth free.
The navy letters shone faintly through the grime:
THOMAS VETERINARY — Everwood, MT
My breath caught.
I’d built my whole life around other people’s animals. Long shifts, emergency calls, the kind of exhaustion that makes friendships slip through your fingers because you’re always choosing someone’s beloved dog over dinner plans. Standing here, staring at her sign, I realized Penny hadn’t just left me land… she’d given me my clinic, a wish I’d always worked toward.
