Lincoln Park, Chicago, Illinois

"YOU'RE SURE FELIX is going to be okay, Doctor? It seems like every week I have to bring him into the office." The exhausted mother sighed. "I guess when they say those little plastic building blocks are for ages five and up, they really mean it."

Dr. Jessica Trombo smiled. "Felix is doing fine. You and he will survive. It's just that puppies are, well, puppies---especially when they're teething." Jessica watched the dog focus on the buttons on her white lab coat. She stepped back, just in case. "Luckily the plastic edges were smooth, and Felix passed the toy with no issues." The same way he'd passed her son's athletic sock three days ago and, the week before, a bra strap. Felix certainly had eclectic tastes and, as proven time and time again, a cast-iron stomach.

"Just make sure your kids put away their toys and never leave dirty clothes---especially socks and underwear---on the floor. Other than that, I think you have an absolutely adorable puppy." Jessica rubbed Felix's belly. The little culprit turned over and splayed his legs in bliss. His tongue lolled to the side. His eye lids fluttered shut. Talk about being in heaven!

There was a knock on the door, and Sarah, one of the office staff, stuck her head in. "Dr. Trombo, you have a call on line two."

Jessica frowned. "Could you ask them to leave a number? I'm still with a patient."

"They said it was an emergency. Something to do with your father." Sarah held on to the door handle.

Her father? Pops never called during working hours. As a fellow vet, he knew how busy she'd be with patients and surgeries. "Ask them to hold, would you? I'll be there in a minute."

Sarah nodded and shut the door.

Jessica looked down at Felix. Her hand had stilled during the brief conversation, but the dog didn't seem to have noticed. In fact, he'd fallen sound asleep on the metal observation table. She couldn't help chuckling. "So, unless you have other questions, I'm satisfied that Felix is in good shape."

Felix's mom scooped up the limp dog. "You'd never know he was hell on wheels, would you?"

Jessica shook her head. "Frankly, you've got to admire his ability to flake out---at a doctor's office, no less. Which reminds me, don't forget to schedule the next appointment for his shots. We've got to take care of our family members." Speaking of which… Jessica waited for the patient to leave before darting out the back door to the small office reserved for the vets. Line 2 blinked, signaling a call on hold.

She picked up the phone. "Hello. This is Dr. Jessica Trombo."

"Jessica. I'm so glad I could reach you."

She recognized the anxious voice of her father's office manager, Wendy. "Is there a problem with my dad?" She had sudden visions of a car crash or a heart attack. She undid the large clip that held her hair off her face and nervously played with the mechanism. Her auburn tresses splayed across her shoulders.

"He's in the hospital, dear."

"Oh, no." Jessica's worst fear realized. "Is he---is he..."

"No, no, don't worry. Seems he fell. It looks like a concussion and a fracture to his right leg. He blacked out and doesn't remember anything. He's pretty banged up, and they want to keep him in overnight to run some tests and for general observation." Jessica breathed a sigh of relief---but only just. "Sounds like a pretty bad fall. And you said tests? Are they looking for signs of a stroke?"

"Among other things. But I think he just lost his balance. He was on a ladder at the time."

Jessica groaned. "Don't tell me he was cleaning his gutters. I've told him a million times he should hire someone to do the job."

"You know your dad. No one can convince him that at seventy-one it's time to alter his ways. In fact, he didn't want me to call you, but I insisted." Jessica's father might've been the doctor, but Wendy was in charge.

"You were absolutely right." Jessica glanced down at her watch. "Look, it's four thirty now. I've still got a few patients left this afternoon, but then my plate's clear. I'll ask one of the other vets to cover for me, and with any luck I'll be able to catch a flight out of O'Hare this evening and get into Philly late in the night. Then I'll rent a car and drive up. If it all goes as planned, I'll be at the hospital first thing tomorrow morning."

Jessica's father still lived in the old family home in Hopewell, Pennsylvania, about an hour's drive north of Philadelphia. The quaint town was situated in rural Bucks County---an area of rolling hills long known as horse country, a hangout for artists and the historic location where Washington crossed the Delaware River.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're able to come home, Jess. Your dad would never admit that he needs to take it easy, but it's time we forced him to rest---at least for a little while."

"I know what you mean. But when has Pops ever accepted change?"

Hopewell, Pennsylvania

POSSIBLY NOW.

Jessica's partners at the veterinary practice had immediately agreed to cover for her, and so she'd hightailed it out of Chicago, leaving her studio apartment in River North with clean laundry piled on the bed and the cap off the toothpaste. The plane was thirty-five minutes delayed and the rental car was some anonymous box, but the good news was that she managed to pull into her dad's place just after midnight.

Though, as Jessica unlocked the front door with its colorful art glass, she couldn't help thinking that the Queen Anne–style house was totally her mom's creation. Take the paint colors. The decorative trim on the windows, turrets and wraparound porch had been painted moss green and brick red in contrast to the mustard-yellow clapboards. Those vibrant colors reflected the spirited personality of her late mother, Vivian, an artist who had taught at the local Quaker school and had died much too young a few years back of breast cancer.

Tired as she was, Jessica spent a not-unexpected restless night. She rose to bright sunlight, and after a quick cup of instant coffee---totally yuck but essential under the circumstances---she grabbed the car keys and headed out the door. She gave only a cursory glance to the garden, but it was impossible to miss her mom's iridescent blue irises lining the driveway.

At 8:00 a.m. on the dot, Jessica pulled into the empty visitors' parking lot of Bucks County Hospital. She fumbled with the unfamiliar car lock, tucked her hair behind her ears and settled the straps of her bag on her shoulder. Then she squared her shoulders and headed into the brand-new building. First things first: the information booth, where she was surprised to see the familiar face of Betsy Pulaski-O'Malley. Actually, come to think of it, Jessica wasn't all that surprised. This was tiny Hopewell, after all.

"Betsy---long time no see," Jessica exclaimed. She and Betsy had played field hockey on the middle school team almost twenty years ago. Jessica immediately assumed the stance of her old center-forward position.

"Gosh, Jessica. It's been a while." Betsy raised her eyebrows, a long-standing trait, especially after scoring a goal.

"It has been a while, but you haven't changed a bit," Jessica said. Betsy's mop of curly red hair was only slightly tamer now. Last she'd heard, her former teammate was married, had two kids and was the proud owner of an ornery calico cat named Alfie. News about the husband and children had come via the Hopewell Central High School Facebook page. The cat not so much. Her father was Alfie's long-suffering vet.

"Well, except for the obvious." Betsy rolled back her office chair and patted her bulging stomach.

Jessica craned her neck. "Wow---it looks like congrats are in order." Clearly baby number three was on the way. "When are you due?"

"Any day now, and I feel like a beached whale."

"At least you're still able to work."

"I figure this is as good a place as any if my water breaks."

Jessica agreed. "You know, I'd love to catch up, but I'm kind of in a rush---"

"You're here about your dad, right?"

"Yup. Have you seen him?"

"No, but Wendy is friends with my mom, and Mom called me last night with the news about him tumbling off a ladder. What a mess. You must have been sick with worry. I know if it'd been my dad, I would've had the baby then and there. Luckily my dad doesn't do a thing around the house---not that that makes my mom happy. But anyway, it means he's not about to fall off a ladder."

Jessica was starting to remember that Betsy was a talker---a big talker. "Well, I see word still travels fast around Hopewell. I guess some things never change. But listen, I'd really like to check on my dad..."

Betsy leaned forward and whispered: "Look, it's not officially visiting hours yet, but go ahead." She rattled off the number and directions to Jessica's father's room. Then she scooted her chair back to a more comfortable distance. "And tell your dad that Alfie misses him."

"Thanks, Betsy."

Jessica waved as she walked toward the elevators. The first stop on his floor was the nurses' station. The second was her father's private room.

She knocked. "Hi, Pops. Fancy meeting you here."

Norman Trombo lay propped up in bed. His eyes were shut. His face ashen and unshaved. Wisps of dark gray hair stuck upward from his bald pate. He wore an anonymous blue hospital gown that had been laundered one too many times in an industrial-strength machine. A sheet covered him from the waist down, and a hidden cage raised the material over his half-leg cast.

"Is that you, Jessica?" Norman opened his eyes. "I told them not to call you, that you were busy."

Jessica stepped closer, trying not to show her shock at his weakened state. "So now you're the boss of everybody? Besides, we all know Wendy secretly runs your office. And I'm glad she called me. Why wouldn't I come to help out? That's what daughters do." She pulled an armchair closer to his bed. "I already checked with the nurses on the way in, and the good news is there's no sign of neurological damage from the fall."

"Did they say there's no sign of any brain cells, either?" Her father stretched out his arm to reach the plastic drinking cup on the swivel table by the side of the bed.

Jessica sprang up. "Here---let me." She handed him the cup and pointed the straw in his direction. At least her father's sense of humor was still intact. "They didn't say anything about a loss of gray matter, but I'm sure they were just being charitable. But besides a mild concussion you have a complete oblique fracture of the right tibia. Quite a bid for attention, Pops. I can think of easier ways, you know. How's the pain?"

He shrugged. "I manage."

She ran her hand along the bed railing. "Apparently you're getting discharged later this afternoon. So, when that happens, I'll take you home and stay with you until you're on your feet."

"Tell me you're not doing the cooking."

"I'm afraid so. I'll try not to burn the house down like I almost did when I was twelve."

"I've never looked at a homemade brownie since, I gotta confess."

"Desserts only from the bakery---I promise. But is there anything you want me to pick up at the supermarket?" Last night Jessica had barely managed to scrounge up peanut butter and crackers from the pantry. The fridge had offered a hunk of Swiss cheese that a starving mouse would have rejected. She'd quickly dumped it in the rubbish. What had Pops been living on all this time? she wondered.

He shook his head. "No, I'm not that hungry. But I could really use a good stiff drink. I'm pretty sure there's a bottle of bourbon in the pantry."

"If not, I know that Mom's trusty bottle of Grand Marnier is still kicking around." Jessica, never a big drinker, had had a nip herself last night to calm down after the whirlwind journey back. (Not that it had worked.) She pursed her lips and watched her dad quickly turn away. That had been the wrong thing to say.

Norman sighed and returned her gaze. "I think I'd like to rest up before they come around to teach me how to use those darn crutches. One thing though, if you want to do me a real favor, stop by the office and see if any patients have shown up. Maybe you could handle them before liberating me from this place."

"Good idea." She stood up and slid the chair back against the window. It was obvious her presence wasn't helping matters. If her big brother, Drew, were here, he'd know how to cheer up Pops in a heartbeat, but from what she'd seen on social media he was in someplace like Borneo, or maybe it was Belize. It was hard to keep track of his globe-trotting ways. So, cross off that option.

Instead, she'd help at Pops's practice, a place where Jessica felt confident that she could contribute in a meaningful fashion. "I'll be on my way, then. I'll give the nurses my cell phone number in case anything changes. That way I'll be here in no time to bust you loose."

She kissed him goodbye and headed off to Hopewell Veterinary Medicine, located in a modest brick building next to the volunteer fire station. Across the street was the local theater, and a sandwich board out front advertised an outdoor production of Kinky Boots for upcoming weekends in July. Nothing much had changed, except in Jessica's days it would have been something older like Kiss Me, Kate.

She parked behind the office and walked in by the side door, hoping for a quiet entrance until she got the lay of the land. She hadn't counted on Alfie.

No sooner had she stepped onto the speckled linoleum tile floor than Gloria Pulaski, Betsy's mom, thrust what was quite possibly the world's ugliest cat into her face. It didn't help that the animal's claws immediately planted themselves deep into Jessica's fleece vest.

"This must be Betsy's Alfie." She winced and gingerly removed the barbed talons. Alfie still managed to get in a good swipe across the back of her hand. "You know, Mrs. Pulaski, Alfie really needs to be in a travel carrier unless he's in the examining room."

With the help of a good colorist, Gloria Pulaski's hair was as red as her daughter's. She cuddled the feline against her Bucks County Community College sweatshirt. "I know, I know, but I couldn't find it right away. Besides, he hates being pent up."

"Don't we all. I tell you what---we could probably lend you a nice one in the meantime." She walked over to Wendy sitting behind the welcoming counter decorated with an array of photos showing various animal patients---one of the office manager's masterful contributions.

Wendy offered a troubled smile. "I tried to explain to Gloria that we weren't scheduling any new appointments today, but she said it was an emergency." Sorry, she mouthed silently.

Jessica waved off her apology. "In that case, let me just get settled, and I'll see what I can do."

"Oh, thanks, Jessica," Mrs. Pulaski gushed. "When Wendy told me about your dad, I was so worried for him and Alfie. But now that you're back, I know you'll have everything under control. You were always the serious one."

Jessica wasn't sure whether that was a compliment or not. "In a serious vein, then, why don't you take Alfie to exam room one, and that way we won't need to deal with the carrier. I'll be there shortly."

When the door had swung shut, Jessica eyed Wendy. "Pops owes me big time. Anyway, when I've finished with Alfie, I'll take emergencies or any scheduled appointments that couldn't be changed until around four p.m. After that I need to get ready to collect him from the hospital."

"It won't be easy for you," Wendy said. "All the stairs at home? And aren't the bedrooms on the second floor?"

"Fortunately there's a guest bedroom and a bathroom on the ground floor."

"Sounds like a good solution to me, but I'm not sure how it'll go down with your father. He's not one for change."

Jessica shook her head. "Don't I know it. It's going to take a serious amount of pampering. I thought I'd start with fudge ripple ice cream. Maybe a pint for him and a pint for me."

Wendy laughed. "In the meantime..." She held out Alfie's file.

Jessica sighed. "Tell me the day will only get better." She grabbed the thick folder and scanned it quickly. "When I'm done with Alfie, we should go over the appointments for the next couple of days and any urgent cases I need to know about."

"Already on it. I printed out the schedule for today and tomorrow---full day Friday, by the way---and a bunch of appointments early Saturday morning. Oh, our tech, Joseph, is in the back, seeing to the two surgical patients in recovery. He can bring you up to speed there."

"Sounds like a plan." Jessica snapped the file shut and prepared for the worst.

Luckily it was better than she'd anticipated. Alfie, the dear, was constipated. She prescribed a stool softener, and he and Betsy's mom were out the door.

But the patients kept coming. Next up, Mr. Mason's cockatoo, Bismol. The bird had a crooked beak that needed trimming. "No problem, Mr. Mason. We'll have Bismol fixed up in a jiffy. Just think of it as the bird version of a mani-pedi," Jessica tried to reassure him.

The elderly Mr. Mason, a longtime bachelor, looked confused.

"You know, having your nails filed and shaped with a colorful nail polish applied at the end?"

Mr. Mason's eyes widened in horror.

"Not to worry," Jessica reassured him. "No Jungle Red this time." She smiled and reached for the clippers.

The bird took only a minute or two---Mr. Mason longer. But since Mr. Mason was a sweet man, she didn't rush him. As the long-time owner of a gas station in town, he had always let Jessica pay later when she hadn't had enough cash to fill up her rusty old Mazda. Alas, no more favors were in order. It seemed he'd recently sold the place to a new couple in town. "Sweet kids. They want to convert it into a brew pub. Good luck to 'em."

After Mr. Mason, Mrs. Horowitz's Pekingese, Schubert, needed heartworm medication, normally something that Wendy would handle. But Mrs. Horowitz wouldn't leave until she had a chance to say hello to Jessica because Robby Bellona had told her she was back in town. Mrs. Horowitz had given piano lessons to Jessica's brother, Drew, and Drew and Robby had been best friends growing up. Robby had seen her stop at the red light on Main Street.

"Drew was such an entertaining boy. Never on time and hopeless when it came to practicing, but always ready with a pick-me-up or a laugh. He just made my day." Mrs. Horowitz waggled her hand in emphasis.

"That sounds about right." Jessica waited as Mrs. Horowitz fiddled with a broach of musical notes pinned to her twin set. It was clear she had something on her mind. If Jessica had to make a bet, she'd say it was a not-so-subtle question about her love life.

"So, you have a fella yet?"

Bingo! Jessica gave herself a pat on the back. "Well, I'm kinda seeing someone in Chicago. I probably need to bring him home to pass your sniff test, correct?"

"It's more Schubert's sniff test. I always run people by him first."

Jessica leaned in to give the dog a cuddle and got quite a noseful. She straightened up quickly. "You know, when you get a chance, you might make an appointment with Wendy to get Schubert's teeth cleaned. It's especially important in older animals." Jessica handed the dog a chew stick to help deal with its pungent breath.

And so it went into the afternoon when Jessica was finally ready to take a look at the next day's files.

That was until Wendy poked her head in the tiny office. "I know you don't have a lot of time, but there's one more patient you just have to see."

"Don't tell me it's Dr. Cotton, my old pediatrician? He was always telling me to stand up straight. And I still slouch. I admit it."

"No, this one's new to town. And I don't know who's more nervous---the owner or the dog." Wendy winked.

Jessica rose. She slipped the scrunchie from her wrist and fashioned a neat ponytail. "Then by all means. Examination room number two."

Wendy had been right about the nervousness. A boy who looked to be in his early teens was perched on the far corner of the bench. All gangly legs and scrawny arms, he clutched a rope that was knotted loosely around the neck of an Australian shepherd mix who, in a futile attempt to make itself invisible, had squeezed behind the boy's legs. The boy had beads of sweat on his upper lip. The pup was shedding like crazy.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Trombo, and who do we have here?" Jessica asked in a soft voice. She stayed a few feet away to give them both some space.

"I'm...I'm Will, and this is Buddy---or at least, that's what I call him."

"Do you now?" Jessica crouched down and took a small treat from the pocket of her lab coat. The nervous dog backed into an even smaller space and furrowed its brow. The two brown dots over his eyes jumped to an erratic beat.

A middle-aged man stuck his head in the back door. It was Joseph, the tech Jessica had met earlier in the morning. "Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to let you know that Fluffy's now fully awake from her spaying." He surveyed the scene and smiled. "Do you need some help lifting the dog on the table, Dr. Trombo?"

"No, I think we're good, Joseph. Instead, can you ask Wendy to call Fluffy's owners to come pick her up?" The door eased shut, and Jessica inched closer to Buddy. "How long have you had Buddy?"

"Not long at all. I…ah…found him in the parking lot of Hopewell Middle School. There was nobody around to claim him, and he didn't have any dog tags. He looked really lost and scared. I didn't know what to do except maybe bring him here to make sure he's all right. He's really a good dog. You can tell." The boy reached down and fondled the dog's ears. The brown dots eased still. "I hope I did the right thing." He watched as Jessica coaxed Buddy into nibbling on the soft treat.

She took a few more treats out of her pocket and passed them to Will. "Here, why don't you give him some, too. He seems to respond to your touch." And while dog and boy were otherwise engaged, Jessica gently ran her hands along Buddy's flanks and legs. She patted his head, ruffled the thick fur on his back and checked out his ears and teeth. When she was done, she leaned back on her haunches. "Good dog. You were very brave." She gave Buddy another treat for good measure. The dog looked like he could use a few more pounds.

"So, is he okay, then? Not sick, I mean?" the boy asked.

Jessica addressed Will with the same sensitivity she usually reserved for the animals. "Considering that Buddy seems to be a stray, he's in remarkably good health. Judging from his teeth, he's probably around two years old. There's no sign of fleas or obvious problems with his joints or organs."

Will breathed a sigh of relief, but just a little one. "Does that mean I can keep him?" he asked. The tension in his shoulders was still apparent.

"For now, I suppose you can foster him. But you'll need to contact the police about any missing dogs and post flyers to try to find Buddy's owner. You have to brace yourself for the fact that someone out there may be worried about having lost him."

Will nodded. "Of course, of course. I understand there's…there's a chance that someone might claim him. But then there's always a chance that someone might not, right?" Will stumbled up from the bench. His legs intertwined with the dog's. "So, if that's it..."

"Not quite. If no one claims him, I want you to bring him back for a proper checkup, bloodwork and a start on his shot regimen. That's if your family is okay with taking in Buddy. And I would expect you and Buddy to attend the evening dog-training sessions at the office. Wendy, out front, will give you a schedule of the lessons as well as a starter pack of food and healthy treats and some biodegradable poop bags."

"That's so great. Thanks. Umm…. One thing I forgot---about paying for this visit? I…I don't have that much cash on me…." The boy stared at his high-top sneakers before braving to make eye contact with Jessica.

"Not to worry. We have a policy of one free meet-and-greet session for all new patients." She saw a look of instant relief unfurrow Will's brow. She straightened up. "One important thing, though. As I said, if---if---you're going to keep Buddy for any length of time, you'll need the approval of your family."

"Not to worry on that score. They're cool with the whole thing." Will bobbed his head up and down. "I guarantee it."

Famous last words. "Well, just in case you---or your family---have any questions, give me a call." She pulled a prescription pad from the pocket of her coat, scribbled down her cell phone number and handed it to Will.

Buddy waggled the two dots above his eyes. Confidence didn't exactly ooze from his expression, and he continued to glue himself to his protector as they stumbled out the door.

"Take care, Will. And you're a lucky dog, Buddy," Jessica called out.

Odds were she'd never see them again, right?