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An Unexpected Family

By June Foster

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If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone" Romans 12:18
 


Chapter One


Grant Elliot gripped the steering wheel harder as he veered around the sharp, left turn. He pulled onto an open space that accommodated his mid-size Chevy. Only a month ago he'd driven his Lexus, but no more. That pretentious lifestyle no longer appealed.
A welcoming sign to the right said: Homedale, the Most Dog Friendly Town in California, population 20,000. He took another look. If the city fathers meant pampering fluffy pooches, he wanted nothing to do with the place. But he'd come this far. Why not check out the town and follow up on the want ad? Surely, the small city didn't endure the bustling traffic and high cost of living like San Francisco.
A two-lane road to the right led toward Homedale. He doubted anyone would connect him with his father's dynasty—Elliot's Veterinarian Services and Pet Spas, the branches scattered up and down the West Coast. If he never associated with the group again, he'd be happy. He'd put himself through the rigors of studying and interning, learning how take care of both large and small animals—not spoiled pets.
He maneuvered his car on the narrow road as it wound around the next curve and climbed the slope. A sign that said North Point Lake, 2 miles indicated a dirt road to the left.
Grant rolled down the window and breathed the aroma of pine and spruce which was so different from the fumes and chemicals of downtown San Francisco. Yet, he'd left more than unpleasant smells when he quit his job and headed north.
The ad he'd printed off from the Internet rested on the passenger seat—the reason why he'd chosen to travel to Northern California. The second street to his left was Main Street, no doubt the primary drag through town.
A grocery store—Klein's, sat on one side of the street, a bait and tackle shop next to it, then Cherrie's Chic Boutique next. On the other side Homedale Drugs occupied part of the block then Martin's Shoes. Aunt Ella's Bakery with a green and white awning and two wrought-iron tables in front stood at the end.
Grant followed the curved road. Several doors down on the adjacent block, he spotted Dr. Charles Herriot's Veterinarian Clinic—the doctor who'd placed the notice in the San Francisco Examiner. The ad said he wanted to bring a second vet into his small office—a veterinarian who'd be willing to man the practice while Dr. Herriot did some traveling. Perhaps someone who would eventually take over his business.
Grant parked to the side of the older building with white siding and walked around to the front entrance. He lifted his hand to open the door and took a long breath. Had he made the right decision leaving his old life to seek a new one? "Lord, lead me."
Inside, a sixty-something woman sitting behind a desk looked up with a friendly smile. "Yes, sir, may I help you?"
The familiar smells of wet dog and antiseptics reminded him of another office—his workplace for the last eight years. As in his former practice, Dr. Herriot's office reflected the care the staff had taken—clean floors, polished counter tops, and a comfortable waiting room.
Grant cleared his throat. "My name is Grant Elliot. I'd like to see Dr. Herriot about his open position."
The woman slipped off her glasses which were perched on the bridge of her nose. "I'm Mrs. Herriot. Are you a licensed veterinarian?"
"Yes, ma'am. I have my credentials with me."
Mrs. Herriot lifted a brow then motioned for him to sit in one of the chairs in the waiting room. "Dr. Herriot is with a patient at the moment. Can you wait a while?"
Wait? He'd waited six months before acting on his decision to leave his father's company. He could wait as long as it took to walk away from the ostentatious practice that merely catered to wealthy patrons who needed more attention than their pets.

*****

Kate Klein scooped a cup of butter into the bowl, measured the granulated sugar, and turned the beaters on high. The machine gave a painful squeak and slowly transformed the mixture into a creamy, yellow texture. If she didn't replace the mixer soon, she'd wind up stirring her dough by hand.
The door dinged. A customer.
She glanced toward the preheated oven—the ancient relic her aunt had purchased when she opened the bakery and named it Aunt Ella's Bake Shop thirty years ago. Now the equipment in the back begged to be updated.
The cookies would have to wait a minute.
Kate wiped her hands on her apron and walked toward the front. Her gray-haired neighbor lifted her long straight nose in the air and sniffed. "Hmm. The shop doesn't smell of sugar and spice like in the old days when Ella ran the place." She peered at the display case.
Kate cringed. It was more sparse than usual. "I'm sorry Mrs. Wambolt. I had to let my assistant go last week. I didn't get a chance to bake as much as I would've liked since yesterday was Sunday." Kate's face warmed, sending an extra dose of shame to her heart. "I've had a few setbacks lately." Like losing the California Plastics account that propelled her business to the brink of bankruptcy. She quickly discovered how much she'd counted on the income for their scheduled triweekly order providing pastries for the break room.
"Humph. Well, if your Aunt Ella was here, she wouldn't allow the display case to get so empty."
"Yes, ma'am. What can I get you?" Kate couldn't verbalize what she wanted to say: She's with the Lord now and isn't likely thinking about the bakery. I'm doing the best I can.
Unfortunately, her dear aunt's lack of business savvy was the reason Kate was in this mess in the first place. The bakery's electrical system was faulty and the stove decrepit. Who knew how long they would last?
"I'll have one of those cherry pies. I must say, that's the best pastry you sell. Did you bake them or did your assistant make them last week? I don't want a stale dessert."
Kate swallowed hard in an effort to regain her patience. "The pies were made fresh earlier this morning."
Kate removed the pie from the display case, placed it in one of the cardboard boxes, and rang up the total on her calculator. A computerized system would've been nice, but it was too expensive right now. She took the woman's payment and smiled, determined not to lose a good customer. She reached into the cash drawer for change.
"No, dearie. You keep the change. You could probably use the money." Mrs. Wambolt reached for the box and turned toward the door.
Kate tapped her forehead. The woman was enough to drive her crazy. She marched toward the back room to finish the cookies and put them in the oven. Maybe some of the local teenagers would come in later. They usually liked sugar cookies.
In the prep room, Kate sifted the flour, baking soda, and baking powder in a separate bowl then added the dry ingredients to the butter and sugar. After forming the dough into round balls on an industrial sized baking sheet, she shoved the pan in the oven.
A whine then a whimper sounded from Lazarus' doggie cage in the pantry, a spot he was required to remain while at the bakery. Well, she didn't like to call it a cage. Her dog's play area sounded better. Thankfully, every time she opened the door to let him out back, he'd never wandered into the prep area or the front.
"What is it, fellow? You've slept most of the morning away."
Lazarus stood from his bed within the wooden enclosure and stretched his legs then whined again.
"Okay, I know what you're telling me. Time to head to the little doggie room." Which would be out the backdoor in the vacant lot behind the bakery. A place she would never allow her golden retriever to run free since he generally wound up exploring the empty area and roaming too far.
Kate grabbed the leash hanging on the wall and slipped it on his collar. "Okay, Lazarus. You better do your business in a hurry. I've got cookies baking."
Lazarus glanced up at her with that trusting look and wagged his tail. On the other side of the back door, Kate took the steps down into the yard, Lazarus leading the way.
Before she could get a good grip on the leash, Lazarus pulled away, obviously chasing something.
A large black cat ran down the alley and skittered around the corner of the bakery toward Main Street, Lazarus not far behind.
"Lazarus, come back here." If he went out into traffic, he could get hurt again like the first time—when he'd earned his name.
Kate breathed a sigh of relief when the dog headed two doors down to Homedale Drugs and stopped on the sidewalk in front, sniffing the bush.
She caught up with him and grabbed his leash. "You gave up on the cat, huh?" She coaxed him to the back of the bakery. "Did you forget why we came outside? It sure wasn't for you to chase cats."
After exploring what seemed to be every inch of the lot, Lazarus found the spot he was looking for next to a tree trunk and lifted his leg. Finally, she tugged the leash and led him inside. She pointed to his enclosure. "To your bed. I need to get some work done."
The bell dinged with another customer.
Kate rushed to the front and gave Mr. Martin from the general store what she hoped was a pleasant smile. "Yes, sir."
The aroma of burning sugar reminded her of the forgotten cookies. "Oh, no. Excuse me." Kate rushed to the backroom and snatched a large hot pad. Black smoke rolled into the room from the oven. She whisked the door open and pulled out the pan filled with four dozen black discs emitting more smoke into the air and making Kate cough. She covered her nose and mouth with her hand and set the pan on her wooden work table, barely restraining the urge to express her opinion in a few loud words. If she'd had her assistant today, this wouldn't have happened.
She gripped both sides of her head. She was a failure as a business woman. And if she couldn't prove to her father she could manage his sister's business, he'd think even less of her than he did now.
 

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