The Cairn & Crust was a week and a half away, but there was no reason we couldn’t spend the rest of the summer savouring every second together. Then I’d leave and we’d . . . end.
My stomach dipped. On the verge of something I wasn’t sure I was ready to analyse yet.
“I think that went well,” Amy said the second the call ended.
I folded my arms, trying to ignore the acid filling my mouth. “I don’t know. Something about him was off.”
“Like what?”
“That bit at the end where he poked me about patient retention.”
Amy stood, sipping her coffee. “It’s a fair question.”
No, he was being smug.“He was talking like he already had the job. I didn’t like it.”
“Because he knows he’s overqualified.”
“Exactly.” I leapt on it, the fervency in my voice startling even me. “And what about that nasally little cough? He could drop dead any day now, and we’d be right back to square one.”
Her expression said I was as transparent as a fish tank. “Do whatever you want, Macabe, sell or don’t sell, as long as it doesn’t affect my job.” She stretched with a yawn. “I’m meeting Nisha for dinner. Is it okay if I get out of here?”
“Yep, I can close up.”
I spent another twenty minutes in my office, reading over Amy’s interview notes. Looking for any answer I could poke holes in. I hated to admit it, but the interview had been pretty fucking flawless.
Surely that alone had to be suspicious, right? Dr Radcliff worked at one of the best surgeries in Manchester, so why would he want to move here?
Admittedly, the day to day wasn’t as stressful as at a city practice. And it was kind of nice knowing all the patients by name. Still, a doctor with his record would never adapt to a change of this magnitude.
My phone buzzed. I tossed the notes with a sigh, letting them scatter across my desk.
Callum: Can you come over tonight? We need to talk.
I had one from Isla too. An hour ago.
Isla: Okay, I know we decided on apple pie, but I’ve been playing about with a peach and raspberry combination I think you’re going to love.
The weight that had been pressing against my chest all afternoon immediately lifted. I wrote back,I’m allergic to peaches.
After shutting down my computer, I packed up my briefcase and quickly texted Callum to say I could drop by on my way home.
My phone buzzed before I’d even locked the surgery door.
Isla: What? That’s not a thing.
Alistair: Tell that to my rash, Dr Lang.
Isla: Have I finally discovered an imperfection, Macabe?
Fifteen minutes later, I was still grinning as I pulled into Callum’s driveway. I parked by the crop of trees separating his cottage from Ivy House, the small B&B Juniper ran with her mother.
“Hey.” He opened the front door before I’d fully climbed from the car, as if he’d been watching for my arrival. He was still dressed in dark-green scrubs from a day at his vet practice. “Thanks for coming. I wanted to catch you before Juniper gets home. Drink?” I followed him into the living room, earning an angry hiss from the black cat perched on the back of the sofa. My presence alone was enough to piss Shakespeare off apparently.
“Water’s fine; I’m driving,” I said, then frowned when he just stood there, making no move toward the kitchen. “Is everything okay?”
“Uh . . . so here’s the thing—” He pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I need to talk to you about something, and I’m not sure how you’re going to react.”
“All right.”Well, didn’t that sound ominous?“Look, if you need a mole checked, ask Amy.” He didn’t laugh.
