The Place I Belong (30 page)

Including Adam. A shiver pulled her out of her reverie and she stood up, calling the dogs to come in.

It was time to taste his soup. She dumped half the container marked “Hearty” into the saucepan, recalling his disdain for the microwave, which would have worked just as well for this task. Plunging her spoon into the pot, she took a sip and moaned at the deliciousness of the subtly herbed broth, the tender chunks of white meat, and the slightly sweet peas and carrots.

“Do I love him more for his cooking or his lovemaking?” she
asked the dogs who watched avidly in the hope she’d drop some of the wonderfully scented food. You couldn’t separate the two aspects
of him; they sprang from the same streak of innate sensuality.

As she swallowed spoonfuls of the warm, soothing soup, it rinsed away some of the ugliness of the scene between them. Maybe she
could
face him at Thanksgiving…if the invitation was still open.

After scraping her spoon on the bottom of the pot, she deposited it in the sink, too weak even to rinse it for the dishwasher. With the dogs’ escort, she wandered into her office, a converted second bedroom that held an Ikea desk and chair she’d bought in Chicago, as well as a wall of overflowing bookshelves. She flicked on the computer screen and scrolled through her emails to see if any required answering.

Paul Taggart’s name caught her eye and she opened the message from him.

Dear Hannah,

I’m sorry to hear you’re feeling under the weather and hope you are on the mend soon. Julia says you are well supplied with chicken soup, Sanctuary’s favorite cure-all for what ails you. If you need anything else, let us know. We’re here to help.

The arrangements for the press conference are going forward. We have agreed on next Thursday afternoon as an appropriate time. I requested it before I knew of your illness, so I hope you will be recovered by then. Anything later will get lost in the Thanksgiving/Christmas holiday rush, and I want Sawyer’s apology to be heard by as many as possible.

I’ve already booked round-trip tickets to Chicago for both of us (see attachment), since our airport doesn’t run to many flights. If you prefer to travel at another time, don’t hesitate to say so.

“He’s coming with me!” Hannah marveled at the support her new allies in Sanctuary gave her.

We will continue to work with Sawyer’s staff to develop the format and final location of the conference, pending your agreement. You may play as large or as small a role as you choose.

In order not to disturb you, I decided to email rather than call, but feel free to give me a ring if you have any questions.

Best regards,

Paul

Hannah sat back in her chair. The high-and-mighty Senator Robert Sawyer was going to eat crow in front of the local press. The thought brought a rush of satisfaction and a flutter of nerves. She didn’t want to face the reporters with their cameras and their microphones again.

She thought of Adam and his openness about his struggle with alcoholism. If he could tell the world about his disease, she could put on a game face for one afternoon to remove the blot on her record. It affected more than just her own life; Tim and her former partners benefited as well.

Hannah leaned forward to type a reply, outlining what she wanted to have done at the press conference. She sat back, amazed at her sudden burst of daring.

Sawyer wasn’t going to like it one little bit.

Chapter 26

T
HANKS FOR GETTING
me out of school,” Matt said, slinging his backpack into the Maserati without a snarky comment about the car.

“You and Dr. Linden are friends, so you should see her vindication,” Adam said, steering the car out of the school parking lot and onto the road toward the Sanctuary Veterinary Hospital.

Matt threw him a look. “Meaning everyone says she didn’t do anything wrong?”

Adam looked back at him. “You’ll need that word for your SATs.”

The boy snorted and slouched in his seat. “It’s cool that
Dr. Tim
sent the cameraman to Chicago so we can all watch.”

“He wants everyone in Sanctuary to know Dr. Linden made the right decision.”

Without telling Hannah, Tim had arranged for a two-man crew from the local-access television channel to be present at the press conference in Chicago. He’d invited Hannah’s friends and
several influential town residents to the animal hospital to see it live.

“Do you believe she made the right decision?” Matt asked.

Adam’s grip on the steering wheel became punishing as his feelings for Hannah writhed through him, dragging him back down into the wine cellar of The Aerie. He felt like one of the restaurant’s fine, crystal wineglasses—brittle enough to shatter at any second.

When he’d heard Hannah was ill, his first impulse was to rush to her house. However, the memory of their last encounter smacked him back to his senses. So he resorted to his standard response to every problem: he cooked. In this case, every kind of chicken soup he could think of, sending it all to Hannah with the hope she’d understand his unspoken apology and wishes for her speedy recovery.

He’d been relieved to hear she was well enough to go back to work on Tuesday, but he couldn’t face her. He thanked his lucky stars that Satchmo continued to improve, so he didn’t have to risk a meeting at the stable. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Matt, he would have avoided seeing Hannah even on television.

“Dad?”

What had Matt asked him? About Hannah’s decision.
“I would never question anything she did for an animal’s well-being. Look at how she saved Satchmo.”

“Yeah, she’s awesome.”

When they pulled into the last empty space in the parking lot
at the veterinary office, Adam turned to Matt. “Want to give me a hand with the coolers in the trunk?”

“Sure. I bet they’ll be happy to see us bringing in some of your food.” His son clambered out of the car as Adam sat stunned. He had braced himself for the usual accusation of trying to bribe people with his cooking. Shaking his head, he followed his son more slowly.

Matt’s prediction proved correct. The chorus of greeting was enthusiastic. Tim had set up a big-screen television in the waiting room with chairs arranged in rows facing it. Estelle cleared her desk to create an impromptu buffet table and helped Adam lay out the mid-morning snacks he’d brought. Soon the staff was scarfing down mini-quiches made with bacon, Gruyere, and zucchini, freshly baked sweet rolls, and croissants filled with ground lamb and mushrooms.

“Oh my gosh, this pastry melts in your mouth before you can even chew it,” Sonya sighed as she bit into an orange-cinnamon swirl. Adam felt a twinge of bittersweet amusement when he saw Matt hovering near the beautiful vet tech. He envied the boy his uncomplicated crush.

“You could have made them a little bigger,” Tim grumbled, his big hand dwarfing the bite-sized quiche he’d picked up.

“I’m used to feeding normal-sized people, not human mountains,” Adam said, surprised by the friendly ribbing.

“We grow ’em big here in Sanctuary,” one of the town councilors said. He added another croissant to the pile on his plate before he took it to his chair in the front row.

Tim’s wife, Claire, appeared beside Adam. “Thank you for providing the refreshments,” she said in a low voice as she watched the mayor and two more officials load up their plates. “Good food always puts politicians in a receptive mood.”

“I considered bringing hot buttered rum,” Adam said, “but Tim said he wanted his staff sober enough to work the rest of
the day
.”

“We wouldn’t want them sleeping it off on the examining tables.” She gestured with her plate. “Those two women coming back for seconds are reporters. One’s from the
Sanctuary Sentinel
and the other’s from the
Tri-County Crier,
so we’ll get some regional coverage.”

“Tim orchestrated this brilliantly.”

“If you hadn’t persuaded Paul to start his inquiries, this wouldn’t be happening.”

Adam shook his head. “It wasn’t any of my business, but I hated to see Hannah’s reputation being smeared.”

“It’s always the business of good friends to help each other,” Claire said, giving him her serene smile.

Tim’s voice broke through the hum of conversation. “It’s nearly eleven, so find yourself a place to sit, and I’ll turn up the sound on the television.” He picked up the remote control and increased the volume, so a televised debate over the best diet for dairy goats became audible.

The crowd moved to their seats. Adam watched Matt settle beside Sonya and crane his neck around until he met his father’s gaze. The boy jerked his head toward the empty seat beside him, his wordless invitation making Adam feel as though he’d won the lottery.

Sonya leaned forward as Adam sat down. “Mr. Bosch, you are a wizard with food,” she said. “Now I want to eat at The Aerie in the worst way.”

“Come anytime,” he said. “I’ll put your name on the special guest list, and they’ll always find you a table.”

“Thanks, but it’s beyond my budget.”

“You’d be my guest. No charge.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t do that, but it’s nice of you to offer.”

Adam frowned. He’d been living in isolation on his mountaintop, absorbed in turning The Aerie into a success. He’d made a point to hire locally, but he hadn’t thought about the fact that many people who lived in Sanctuary couldn’t afford the prices at the famous restaurant just outside their town. Maybe he could offer local residents a discount or a series of “Sanctuary Nights” where he invited them for a private party.

He was still thinking about how best to organize an event when Matt sat up straight beside him and said, “It’s starting.”

Adam braced himself.

Hannah stood in the cramped foyer of the animal shelter, making polite conversation with the shelter’s director, a stocky, young, blond man named Nick Wodarski. Paul had positioned himself by the glass front door, his gaze on the street. “Showtime,” he announced, smoothing his hand down his necktie. Hannah turned in time to see two shiny green sedans sweep up in front of the shelter’s cracked cement steps.

The first car’s four doors all swung open simultaneously, disgorging three men and one woman dressed in dark overcoats and business suits. One man went to the trunk and pulled out a large, cardboard sign, which Hannah guessed was the symbolic check Robert Sawyer would be handing to the shelter’s director to open the Sophie Memorial Fund.

The second car’s doors remained closed until a news van pulled up, its roof bristling with antennae. Then the senator’s driver emerged and walked around to hold the door for Sawyer. Hannah hissed in a breath as she recognized the man who exited from the side of the car opposite Sawyer.

Ward. She was surprised he’d want to be involved on the wrong side of a public apology.

“You okay?” Paul asked.

She nodded as she smoothed her damp palms down her belted, gray coat. “Just had a momentary flashback.” She decided Paul should be clued in about the unexpected guest. “That’s my ex-fiancé in the blue shirt and yellow tie. Ward Miller.”

The lawyer frowned. “I can ask him to leave.”

“No, I’m glad he’s here. He was part of the problem.” She wanted Ward to watch her take back her life.

At the sight of Sawyer, a gaggle of reporters appeared out of the cars parked along the rundown street, converging on the senator. He stopped to talk with them, smiling and at ease. As she watched the reporters laugh at something he said, Hannah felt a surge of distaste for the coziness of the relationship between the press and the popular politician.

Sawyer made his way up the steps and waited as one of his aides opened the door for him. Evidently it was beneath his station to touch a door handle. Tall, with iron-gray hair, a long, patrician face, and a dazzling smile that she suspected required regular trips to the dentist, he strode in as though he owned
the worl
d.

“Senator Sawyer,” Paul said, stepping forward. “I’m Paul Taggart, and this is my client, Dr. Linden.”

The senator’s smile never wavered as he held out his hand to Hannah. “Dr. Linden, I’m glad we’re getting this misunderstanding straightened out to everyone’s satisfaction.” He turned to shake Paul’s hand. “I hear great things about your Pro Bono Project, Mr. Taggart.”

Hannah nudged Nick forward. “Senator, this is Nick Wodarski, the director of the All Paws Onboard Shelter. He does fantastic work for animals in this area of the city.”

“Mr. Wodarski, I’m glad to support your impressive organization,” the senator said, clasping Nick’s hand.

“Thank you, sir,” Nick mumbled before he flashed a look at Hannah. “And thank you, Dr. Linden, for connecting us with Senator Sawyer.”

Maybe Nick wasn’t as shy and retiring as she’d thought.

One of the senator’s staff members came through the door. “We’re all set up outside, senator.”

A thrill of nerves thrummed through Hannah. She pulled her belt a notch tighter as she squared her shoulders. Now she just had to make sure she didn’t trip over anything in the high-heeled pumps she’d worn in order to project an air of
professionalism
.

“Excellent!” Sawyer said. He turned to Hannah. “I have what I believe you’ll find a pleasant surprise.”

His words nearly undermined her tenuous poise. There weren’t supposed to be any surprises; Paul and the senator’s staff had worked out the ten minutes of scripted action to the last comma and period. She glanced at the lawyer beside her.

“Senator, what—?” Paul began, but Sawyer was already out the door. “We’ll just have to go with it,” Paul muttered, pushing open the door. As Hannah passed him, he gave her a reassuring smile and a quick squeeze on her shoulder.

A portable podium and microphone had been set up at the top of the steps. Senator Sawyer stood behind the podium,
bantering
with the reporters who’d taken up stations at the foot of the stairs. She was surprised to see not one but two video crews. They’d expected only the local television station.

Hannah walked over to Sawyer’s left while Paul directed Nick to the senator’s right. She gritted her teeth when she noticed Ward stationed just behind the senator, holding the giant cardboard check.

Everyone’s head turned when a door banged open on the side of people wearing yellow T-shirts printed with “We
♥
Dr. Linden” marched out and arrayed themselves behind the press.

Hannah had the satisfaction of seeing a flicker of dismay cross Sawyer’s face as the sea of yellow overflowed the sidewalk onto the street, and the video cameras turned to pan over the crowd. She glanced at Nick and caught the broad smile on his face as he nodded to the group.