“All right.”
“And remember. Clay’s not as mean as he looks.” Dr. Hadley smiled. “He’s a pussycat.”
She looked at the doctor, considering. This woman had been one of Abby’s favorite customers, a regular who’d taken the time to chat every Saturday, without fail. A relationship Abby had been made to understand she shouldn’t be forming. No talking to the clients, even though that was ridiculous. They’d liked her. Part of the reason some of those people bought from them had been Abby’s gregariousness. She’d been sure of it.
When they’d taken her off market duty, she’d wondered which of the women had told on her. Who out of the other three had decided she needed to be reported? Brigid, no doubt.
It didn’t matter.
“I’m ready,” she said with a cold breath in.
At the car, the doctor performed introductions. “Abby, this is Clay. Clay, meet Abby. She’ll be staying with us for a while.”
Abby opened her mouth to protest then shut it, eyes focused on the man who was indeed intimidating, but not nearly as frightening as Dr. Hadley had implied. He was handsome, the snow a perfect contrast to his dark good looks.
He nodded at her but didn’t offer to shake, which made her think he was giving her space.
After a short drive, they pulled up in front of an old farmhouse, cozily blanketed in white. All that was missing was a curl of smoke from the chimney.
Inside, the doctor said, “Let’s get you some clothes, okay?” She turned to Clay. “Would you mind putting together a snack before you go back out?”
“’Course.” He glanced at Abby. “Anything you don’t like?”
“Oh.” She considered. She ate whatever was put in front of her.Likehad never been an issue before. “I guess not. Thank you.”
Taking her arm, Dr. Hadley led Abby to the stairs. “Come on, we’ll get you set up in the guest room.”
Everything about the house was beautiful. Old and glowy warm with lots of color and layers of fabric. A memory slid out from the depths of her mind:Little Women, a book. She remembered characters sitting around in their house, talking and loving one another. A house like this one.Did I read that?she wondered, with a vague recollection of another lifetime. A child named Abby. Maybe she’d seen a movie.
The bedrooms upstairs were inviting, her bed not only made, but also turned down. Waiting for a guest. The bathroom was clean and white. Everything smelled good. Like herbs and pie.
The woman brought her clothing.
“Dr. Hadley, I—”
“It’s George. Please call me George.”
Abby nodded.
“Here,” George continued. “This should be comfortable, but I’m happy to get you a dress, if it’s more to your—”
“No!” Abby cut in, breathless. “Trousers are perfect.”
“Trousers it is,” George said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You’re taller than me, so they’ll be short, but maybe this weekend, we can get you some stuff.”
“I’ll repay you, Doctor. Thank you.”
“George. Please. And you don’t have to—”
“I want to, George. I want to get a job. I have to repay you.” She fought to keep her attention away from the mountain looming behind the house. “I want to repay Luc, too.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s not—” George interrupted herself, clamped her lips shut, and nodded. “I understand.”
“Thank you,” said Abby. “Thank you for everything.”
“Oh, Luc gave me this for you.” George reached into a pocket and held out a bundle of paper. An envelope with a curlicuedAbbyscrawled on the front, filled with cash.
Alone in the room, Abby set the envelope down and took off the blanket and the scrubs. She pulled on a pair of clean, white underwear—snug and soft and so different from what she usually wore—and the trousers. They were loose but short. An oval mirror stood on a stand in the corner of the room. She should go look at her reflection.
