This might take a while, wake me when she’s done.She being the auburn-haired Texan female of indeterminate age who’d brought the dog into Zach’s clinic three times in the two weeks since she—and her daughter, she’d mentioned more than once—had moved into the old Hufsteter place a ways out of town. Completely renovated, she’d said. Beautiful house. Reminded her of home.Not that Zach minded chatter, as a general rule. At least it kept him from curling up in a ball inside his own head. However, since he’d yet to find anything really wrong with the little dog, other than a general slowing down due to old age, he was guessing Dorelle Keyes had ulterior motives. Motives that Zach strongly suspected had something to do with this hitherto unseen daughter.One hooded doggy lid briefly fluttered open as if to say You got it, buddy, before drifting closed again, and Zach met Dorelle’s sharp—oh, so sharp—green gaze.“As part of my practice, sure.” After gently rubbing the dog between the ears—which got a soft groan—Zach scribbled down a couple notes for Shantelle at the front desk to add to Edgar’s chart, then glanced back at Dorelle.
