“No. Montana wanted to take her to a local nursing home.”
“Interesting young woman, our Montana,” Dr. Duval said. “It took her some time to decide what she wanted to do with her life. Working with the therapy dogs seems to be her calling. She’s done some extraordinary work.”
In his experience, hospital administrators focused on the logistics of running a hospital. There were a thousand details to be managed—personnel, patients, supplies. Usually those in charge were not familiar with things like therapy-dog programs and how well those running the programs were doing in their personal lives. But very little about Fool’s Gold was like any place he’d ever lived before.
“I heard Kalinda is having some trouble,” she continued. “Such a small child to endure such a horrible accident. If the dog helps, I’m grateful you’ve allowed the dog to be here.”
He knew there was more to the conversation. Dr. Duval hadn’t stopped by just to chat. So he leaned back in his chair and waited.
The wait wasn’t long.
“As we discussed when you first came here,” she began, “we’re having a fundraiser in a couple of weeks. I wanted to confirm that you’ll be attending.”
He doubted that confirm was the right word. She was here to make sure he planned on attending, and if he put up a fuss she would find some way to force him. He knew the type. Dr. Duval was the kind of woman who got things done, which made her someone he respected.
He didn’t want to go to the fundraiser. Being the focus of attention in a room with two or three hundred people was his personal idea of hell. But it was one of the costs of doing business.
“I’ll be there.”
She looked both surprised and relieved. “I’m glad to hear that. Having you here is an incredible gift, but you don’t come cheap.”
He smiled. “I’m confident the cost is worth it.”
“It is.” She leaned toward him. “You could have charged us more. Your fee is the least of it.”
“I get more than enough out of what you pay me.”
What he did had made him relatively well-off. He didn’t need to gouge local hospitals for sport. Most of the costs of having him came from the fact that he required the hospital to allow uninsured patients free of charge. If someone needed his help, they got it, regardless of their ability to pay.
This forced the hospitals to raise money both before and after his visit. But it meant children like Kalinda had a chance.
She rose. “I look forward to seeing you at the fundraiser. Will you be bringing anyone?”
There was Montana. While a part of him wanted to see her dressed up, wanted to spend the evening with her, maybe even dance with her, he had his doubts about this kind of event.
“I haven’t decided.”
Dr. Duval’s gaze was steady. “Let me know either way, so we can accommodate your guest at the table.”
She left.
Simon drew in a breath. What he should do for Montana was at odds with what he wanted to do for himself. He didn’t usually indulge in moral dilemmas. But then he didn’t usually indulge himself with women like Montana.
DENISE WAS GETTING a little concerned that the people at the winery tasting room were going to start charging her rent. She supposed she should find a second place for her string of hideous first dates, but the tasting room was so convenient. They served “small bites” of food, the wine was excellent and she doubted there was a better view in a fifty-mile radius. All of which were very helpful when one was meeting strange men.
Her latest first date was with a man named Art. They’d met online, something she didn’t usually do, but…desperate times and all that. He’d been in the “over fifty” section. No more younger men for her.
As she walked into the tasting room, she searched for a man who looked like the picture she’d seen on her computer. He’d had nice eyes and slightly graying hair that was a little curly.
“Denise? I’m Art. Nice to meet you.”
It was all she could do to keep her mouth from falling open. The man standing in front of her was barely her height, nearly as wide as he was tall, with a few wisps of white hair. She saw some resemblance to the man in the picture she’d been sent, but the man in front of her was more his father than anything else. She’d been looking for a guy in his fifties. Her date had to be pushing seventy.
“Art?”
“Yep. Nice to meet you. I’m a little surprised.”
He was surprised? If they had a contest about that, she was pretty sure she would be the winner.
“You look just like your picture,” he told her. “That almost never happens. Lucky me.”
“Yes, lucky you,” she murmured.