Shelter Me Read online

  “She’ll be fine.” Patting the dog’s sides, she included James in the reassuring smile she gave his dad. “I’ll have to run the sample to know what type, but Ginger has an ear infection.”

  “Great.” James clapped his hands together.

  “Great?” His dad’s thick, gray eyebrows caterpillared together. “You want Ginger to have an infection?”

  “What? No, I—”

  “I’m sure your son meant it was great there is nothing more seriously wrong with Ginger,” Dr. Martineau said. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” And it was insulting that his dad thought otherwise. He didn’t dislike the dog that much. She was a good dog as far as they went. Though he could have done without the shedding. And the muddy paw prints. And all the times she’d tried to steal food from his plate.

  He shook his head. What had ever possessed his dad to get a dog? “Does that mean I’ll have to come back here again in a couple of days to get the results and the medicine? Or can we get something now? I’d prefer not to come back.” He glanced around the utilitarian exam room. It smelled of bleach and dog.

  Her smile seemed a little more forced, but her voice remained pleasant and soothing. Probably the one she used to calm her patients. “The results can be delivered by a phone call.” She picked up a clipboard. “Do you know if Ginger has any allergies to medication?” Both men shook their heads. “Good. A round of antibiotics should clear it right up. I’ll set you up with some now”—she darted a glance at him under lowered brows—“and when the results come back I’ll let you know if we have to adjust her medication.”

  His dad’s shoulders sagged. “Good. That’s good.” He glared at James. “I told you your music is too loud. You hurt her ears.”

  Moving in with his dad was putting the two back into old habits. Namely, bickering. “I don’t play music too loudly,” he told the vet. He turned to his father. “Let’s get the drugs and get going.”

  His dad blinked. “Go? But we don’t know what’s wrong with Ginger yet. We have to wait for the doc to examine her.”

  James’s chest burned. Ignoring Dr. Martineau’s confused expression, he stepped forward, shoving his hands in his pockets. “She already examined her. Ginger has an ear infection. She’ll be fine.”

  “Oh.” His dad turned his eyes down, focused on petting the collie. But James could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers clutched at his dog. His father was having more and more of these moments. The doctor said it wasn’t unusual for a man of his age, especially after a surgery. But the more his dad recovered from his operation, the less the incidents should happen. Right?

  “Thanks for looking at my Ginger, Doc.” He patted the dog, shoulders slumped. “I appreciate it.”

  Stepping forward, she laid a hand on his dad’s arm and squeezed. The edges of her eyes crinkled with her smile. “Call me Sarah. And I always love seeing Ginger. And you, too.”

  James attached the leash to Ginger’s collar and put her on the ground. One good thing about the Birkenstock-wearing, granola-eating type of hippie, they were generally sweet. Which wasn’t a trait James usually appreciated, but when it made his dad feel good, he guessed there was a time and place for it. “Where do we get the antibiotics?”

  “I keep some in stock here.” She opened the door and led them out front. “Melanie, can you get Mr. Marshall—”

  “James.”

  “—James a round of tobramycin?”

  Melanie nodded and went into another room.

  Sarah turned to his father. “Mr. Marshall, be sure Ginger takes her medication according to the directions on the box. And if she doesn’t stop scratching her ear and shaking her head within a day or two, let me know.” She looked past his dad to James to make sure he understood, as well.

  James nodded. He appreciated that she spoke to Oswald, treating him like a competent adult. His dad’s ego couldn’t take too many more incidents of people talking to him like he was a child.

  He handed his dad Ginger’s leash, feeling oddly reluctant to leave. Probably because when he did, it would just be him and his dad again. They seemed to either ignore each other or argue, and it was nice being around other people for once.

  But delaying the inevitable was never a solution. Besides, he was only going to be in Shelter Bay for another two weeks at most. Of course, he’d been saying that for the last two months. But there was only so long he could make sure his dad didn’t burn his house down. His father had recovered from his surgery about as well as a man of his age ever would.

  And James was done being nursemaid.

  With a farewell wave, he shepherded his father and Ginger out the door and into his car. “Let’s pick up some take-out for dinner. Chinese okay?” he asked his dad.

  “Fine.” Ginger sat in the front foot well between the old man’s legs, her head on his dad’s knee. His father scratched behind the dog’s ear. “Whatever you want.”

  James pressed the accelerator harder than necessary, and they squealed out of the parking lot.

  What he wanted was to be gone. Back to San Francisco. Back to his home, his job, his life.

  His firm had given him three months of family leave, but that time was running out. And his dad still couldn’t be left to live alone.

  He rubbed his temple.

  His normally ordered brain searched for a solution that made everyone happy… and came up empty.

  He had to face facts. Unlike in accounting where he could always find a credit to balance a debit or the right deduction for his client, in real life, there weren’t always perfect solutions. Sometimes life got messy.

  And he’d just have to suck it up and deal with it.

  Chapter Three

  “Happy Birthday, Dad.” Sarah pushed to her tiptoes to give her father a kiss on his bristly cheek. Robert Martineau had turned sixty, and a huge bash was being held at his house. The smell of cooking meat came from the barbeque on the back deck, and friends and family spilled from the house into the backyard.

  “Hey, baby girl.” He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her. “Glad you could make it.”

  Rolling her eyes, she placed a wrapped present on the dining room table with a stack of others. “Of course, I made it. A girl’s dad only turns the big six-oh once.”

  Or twice, maybe. Depending on whether she and her biological father would develop a relationship. Robert Martineau had adopted her and Brad when he’d married their mom. Sarah had been seven years old at the time, and had easily adjusted to calling the big, burly man in her mom’s life ‘dad.’ Even after the twins and her sister, Ellie, had been born, Sarah had always felt like she was Robert Martineau’s daughter. He never treated her and Brad differently than his biological children.

  Which might have been part of the reason why Brad was so determined not to meet their bio dad. They hadn’t lacked for a father growing up, and he probably didn’t feel the need to add a second one now.

  But people could slip from your life as easily and quickly as a snap of the fingers. She wouldn’t take any opportunity for family for granted.

  “Want a beer?” her dad asked.

  “Of course.”

  They strolled to the back porch, and he handed her a bottle from an ice-packed cooler. She took a swig as she looked around. Brad and the twins, Conner and Joe, manned the built-in stone barbeque at the edge of the porch. The baby of the family, Ellie, was by the pool, her gauzy kaftan not doing its job of covering up her tiny black bikini. Several men had taken notice and gathered around her lounge chair.

  Sarah waved at her Aunt Katie. “Are all the cousins here?” she asked her dad.

  “All of the pack except for Ethan.”

  “Ah.” She didn’t need to say anything else. Of her Aunt Katie’s four kids, Ethan was the wild child. It surprised no one when his Facebook status showed him in Mexico or Argentina on trips he’d never told anyone he was going on. And each of the Martineaus had re
ceived the call for money when Ethan’s motorcycle had broken down and he didn’t quite have the cash to pay for repairs.

  But other than his absence, the party was booming. Neighbors, co-workers, and friends filled the large backyard. Everyone was smiling and in good spirits. Everyone, until Brad turned and caught sight of her.

  His brows drew together, and then, very deliberately, he turned his back.

  Her fingers went white around the beer bottle.

  “What’s going on with you and Bradley?” her dad asked. “Anytime your name is mentioned, he looks like he swallowed a lemon.”

  “Nothing. We’re fine.”

  “Sarah Beth.” His voice went deep. It was a tone that probably scared the crap out of his subordinates when he was a naval commander, and had sent more than one of her high school boyfriends scurrying. “Don’t blow sunshine up my ass. I know when there’s a problem with my kids.”

  Leaning in, she wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed his side. “But it’s your birthday, and it really isn’t a big deal. Brad will get over it. I’m going to go say hi to Aunt Katie,” she said and scooted away from her father’s concerned gaze as fast as she could.

  She made the rounds, noticing that Brad made sure to stay on the opposite side of the backyard. She scratched at the label on her bottle. If her brother didn’t want to meet his biological father, fine. But he should at least support her if she did.

  “What a turkey,” she muttered.

  “Who’s a turkey?” Cassie, her best friend since Sarah had moved to Shelter Bay at age ten, snuck up next to her.

  Sarah pressed a hand to her heart. “Gah! You scared the beeswax out of me.” How Cass could sneak up on a person was still a mystery. Standing at 5’10” and rocking a curvy frame, her friend was an odd pick to have ninja skills. But those skills had come in quite useful over the years.

  Cass shrugged. “Who’s a turkey?” she repeated. “You’re laying down some heavy language there.”

  Sarah pressed her lips together. She didn’t like to swear, and her friend found her substitutions endlessly amusing. At least she was making somebody happy.

  Sarah nodded toward the barbeque. “Brad. He won’t let me explain why I want to talk to our bio dad. He’s giving me the silent treatment.”

  Cassie snorted. “He’s an ass. Always has been, always will be.” She took a sip of her chardonnay. “But…why do you want to contact your dad? Maybe that’s a chapter of your life best left in the past.”

  Sarah groaned. “You too? I thought you supported me in this.”

  Cassie squeezed her arm. “You know I support you. I’m just worried you might get hurt. Brad, for all his many faults”—she fixed an accusatory glare at Brad’s back—“might be right about this one.”

  “And he might be wrong.” Sarah sketched circles into the grass with the toe of her sandal. “I just want to know why he left us, and if he regrets it. He might be a changed man.”

  “Well, if he’s responding to you on Facebook, that’s probably a good sign, right?” Her friend smiled brightly, but still didn’t look convinced. Sarah loved her for trying, though.

  “Hey, guys!” Her sister, Ellie, joined them. Her black kaftan slipped down one bronzed shoulder. “What are you doing over here? Conner invited all his firefighter buddies to the party, and some of those guys are smokin’. You need to get in on the action.”

  “What I need,” Sarah said through gritted teeth, “is a sister I can trust. Not one that blabs all my secrets.”

  Ellie hunched her shoulders. Even slouched, she still towered over Sarah by several inches. It wasn’t fair that her baby sister had inherited the Martineau height, leaving Sarah the shrimp of the family.

  “So, Brad talked to you I take it,” Ellie said.

  “Yelled at me more like.”

  “I told him not to.”

  Sarah’s shoulders tightened. “And I asked you not to tell him.” She sighed. This mess was her fault. She shouldn’t have gone drinking with Ellie. She lost her filter. She knew better.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Ellie narrowed her eyes. “Why the big secret? We’re family. You should have told us anyway. All of us.” She lowered her head and hissed, “Dad’s going to be upset when he finds out you kept this from him.”

  Yes, he would. But how did you tell a father you adored that you want to explore a relationship with your bio dad? The guilt ate at her. It might have driven her to buy her dad an especially nice birthday present.

  Cassie tapped her finger against her wine, her thick stainless-steel ring thunking against the glass. “This is your father’s party. Let’s not fight now. Besides, what’s done is done.”

  “You’re right.” Sarah loosened her death grip on the bottle. “This isn’t the time or place. We can deal with this later.”

  “Deal with this?” Ellie stepped into Sarah’s space.

  Sarah narrowed her eyes. Her sister knew she hated it when Ellie towered over her. But she swallowed her irritation. It did no one any good having more strife in the family. “You know what I mean. Let’s just forget it.”

  “Let’s not,” Ellie said. “There’s nothing to deal with. You seem to forget I’m no longer a child to be scolded.”

  Then she shouldn’t act like one. Sarah kept that uncharitable thought to herself. “Look, I don’t want to fight. I just think,” she said carefully, “that if you make someone a promise, you should keep it.”

  “Bite me.” Ellie spun and stomped away. Back to her group of admiring firefighters, her scowl was quickly replaced with a flirty smile.

  “Ellie,” Sarah called after her.

  An extended middle finger was her response.

  “She can buy the drinks next time,” Sarah grumbled. She blew out a breath. At twenty-three, Ellie was no longer a child. She’d moved into her own studio apartment, somehow making rent with the odd jobs she did. Everything from fashion vlogger to barista to tutoring. But she was still more pesky little sister than the adult friend Sarah hoped she’d become.

  And now she was angry at Sarah.

  Her stomach twisted. “I should go apologize.”

  “No, you shouldn’t. That was the most mild-mannered rebuke possible.” Cassie slung an arm around her shoulders and guided her in the other direction. “Now, shall we go find Conner and Joe so you can piss off the remainder of your siblings? I’m sure the twins will have an opinion on the matter, too.”

  Sarah snorted. “Everyone in this family has an opinion on everything. But I think I’ll avoid being ostracized by my entire family today, thank you very much.” She headed for the porch and another beer. “What about you? You want to go flirt with the hot firemen? I’m sure Ellie will share.”

  Cassie set her wine glass down and rifled through the cooler. She settled into a lounge chair, popping the top of a diet soda. Sarah sank into the chair beside her.

  “Nah.” Cassie flipped her sunglasses down from her head to her nose. “It’s a known fact that firemen are all manwhores” She slid a sideways glance at Sarah. “Excepting Conner, of course. I think I’ll just watch the hotness from afar. Besides, anyone at your dad’s party will be too nice and normal to be interested in me.”

  Sarah wiped a trickle of beer off her chin with the back of her hand. “What are you talking about? You date normal guys.”

  Cassie shrugged. “It seems like ever since I lost some weight, all I ever get is weirdos or married guys hitting on me. I think I lost enough to make me attractive to guys who only care about looks, but I’m still big enough to make them think I’m gettable. I’m in the sweet spot for all the creepers.”

  Sarah couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You’re beautiful, and you always were. That’s just crazy.” Cassie had gone up and down in her weight ever since Sarah had known her. But even when she was up, her Amazonian frame and her flaming red locks never failed to turn more than a few heads.

  “You’re prejudiced,” Cassie s
aid.

  “Damn right.” She leaned the neck of her bottle out and waited for her friend to tap her soda can to it. “‘BFFs forever.’”

  “We really need to remove that carving from your dad’s oak tree,” Cassie said. “It’s a little embarrassing now.”

  They sat and they people-watched, enjoying the afternoon sun. Most of the days along the northern coast weren’t as warm as this one, and Sarah tipped her face to the sky. No fog. No cold ocean breezes. It was a great day for a party.

  Mrs. Sandoval, one of her dad’s neighbors, waved to her across the pool, and Sarah raised her bottle in return.

  “Cass, you know how Mrs. Sandoval brought that kitten to me a couple of months ago? The feral one she found along the bluffs?”

  “Yeah, it scratched her arms to hell.” She waved back at the woman in question, whose bare arms seemed to have fully recovered. “You’ve talked about how the feral cat population is starting to be a problem.”

  Sarah pursed her lips. “Well, I’ve decided to stop talking and try to do something about it. I want to start a feral cat foundation, have it attached to my practice.”

  Swinging her legs over the side of the lounge, Cassie leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “That’s great. How do you make that happen?”

  “Yeah.” She took a long drag of her beer. “I’m wondering that, too. But one thing I know is I’ll need more space. My unit at the strip mall is barely big enough for my practice. Most of the feral cats I’d just be performing spays and neuters on. But the younger ones I’d like to try to adopt out, which means housing them.”

  “Maybe you need a new space. Or maybe you just aren’t using your current space efficiently.” Cassie’s eyes gleamed, and Sarah knew her friend was visualizing her vet practice. Cass was the creator and sole employee of Organize This, a consulting firm that specialized in reordering office space for maximal efficiency. She also helped companies streamline their internal processes, and more than once Cass had despaired over Sarah’s reliance on Excel spreadsheets.

  But Sarah understood Excel. She could create formulas complex enough to balance the federal budget. She wouldn’t let anyone take her spreadsheets away from her. Not even her best friend. But her office space on the other hand…