An Ex to Grind (41 page)

I didn't know where Leah lived, so I looked her address up in the phone book. Not listed. Then I called information to get her phone number. Unpublished. Apparently, she was yet another single woman who didn't want to be hassled by perverts. I couldn't blame her there, but I'd hoped to speak to her in the privacy of her apartment.

Moving on to Plan B, I was heartened that her veterinary practice
was
listed in the phone book. I guess she wasn't worried about perverts as long as they had pets.

On a Tuesday afternoon, I walked through the door of Purcell Veterinary Medicine, which was located in the East Eighties. I did not go there empty-handed.

"May I help you?" asked a young, sort of effeminate male receptionist, who sat behind a glass partition that he pulled open after I'd tapped on it a couple of times.

"I'm here to see Dr. Purcell," I said.

The receptionist, whose name tag identified him as Adam, gave me a puzzled look, probably because I was not accompanied by an animal. The office was packed with them, most of them dogs and cats, along with a ferret and the usual parakeet or two. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No," I said.

"She's completely booked," he said.

"No need to try to squeeze me in," I said. "I'm fine with waiting until Dr. Purcell is finished at the end of the day. There's a personal matter I'd like to discuss with her."

"Oh?" Adam seemed intrigued. "Can I get your name?"

"Sissy."

He recoiled as if I'd slapped him. "That could be construed as a hate crime in this state."

"You don't understand," I said, not wanting my goodwill mission to get off to a bad start. "I'm not gay bashing you. I'm telling you my name. It's Sissy. Sissy Swain." Hey, it wasn't my fault that everybody in Dan's family called his sister Susanna that. Maybe it was an Oklahoma thing. And yes, I was hoping that pretending to be related to Dan would get me an audience with Leah. I was sure she wasn't interested in seeing
me
.

"I'll let the doctor know you're here," said Adam, who got up in a huff and closed the glass window with more attitude than was necessary.

I took a seat between a woman with her snarly Doberman pinscher and a man with his even snarlier German shepherd.

I wasn't a masochist, but we were talking about a full house, and seating was at a premium.

At some point, Adam motioned me over and said, "Dr. Purcell has agreed to meet with you, but only because she knows you've traveled a long way."

"I appreciate that," I told him, putting a little southern twang on the sentence. It was probable that she'd throw me out once she realized I wasn't Dan's sister, but I was willing to chance it. The first step was to wedge my foot in the door.

I endured the growling, teeth-baring, generally unsociable temperaments of the dogs to my left and right for well over an hour. After they'd been treated by Leah and sent home with their owners, after all the patients had been treated by Leah and sent home with their owners, Adam escorted me from the waiting room into her office, closed the door behind him, and left me alone with her.

When I entered, she was standing beside a bookcase, flipping through a heavy volume, her back to me. Even in her white lab coat, her lustrous hair piled haphazardly on top of her head, she was a babe. I cleared my throat to make my presence known.

She turned to face me and began to sputter. If smoke really came out of people's ears, it would have come out of hers. "You? Adam told me it was Dan's… You? How could you use his—"

"Leah," I said. "Please calm down." Like I would have calmed down if I were in her shoes. I would have slugged me.

"You pretended to be Dan's sister!" She slammed the reference book onto her desk. We both jumped when it went
bang
!

"I didn't think you'd let me in otherwise," I said, speaking in a soft voice so as not to excite her further. "I had to find a way to talk to you."

"Talk to me? You tried to steal Dan away from me! Why should I let
you
in here?"

"Because you're a nice person," I said. "Dan always bragged about how nice you are. You're the one he loves, Leah. I should never have tried to come between you."

"Then why did you?" she demanded. "And why did you play that dirty trick on him? It's disgraceful how you hired Desiree so you could cheat him out of the money."

"You're right," I said. "What I did is disgraceful and I'll regret it for the rest of my life. But my poor judgment doesn't have to ruin your chances with him."

"You say that, now that he's rejected both of us." She sank down in her desk chair, utterly depleted, as if the positive spirit he had found so inspiring had been drained out of her.

"I want to undo the damage I caused," I said, sitting opposite her. "I want to help you and Dan get back together."

"Oh, spare me."

"I mean it, Leah. I want him to be happy, and you make him happy."

She turned her head away, biting her lip. "Even if I believed you, it'll never happen. He thinks I was partners with you. He thinks I'm just as dishonest as you are."

"No, he doesn't," I lied. I had promised myself I was finished with the lying and the scheming and the conniving, but the sort of lying I was currently doing was benevolent lying. Its purpose was to help two decent, well-intentioned individuals find true love. That couldn't be bad, right? "I spoke to him and told him everything and he understands now. He doesn't think we were partners anymore. He knows I duped you the same way I duped him."

She looked at me, her eyes filling with hope. "He doesn't blame me?"

"No. He still wants to marry you, Leah. He's so sorry he ever doubted you."

She arched one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows at me. "Then why hasn't he called?"

"Because he's too ashamed. He thinks you'd never hear him out."

"He
should
be ashamed," she said with a pout. "He hurt me so much the way he tossed me onto the street. And now he can't even pick up the phone and tell me he's sorry?"

"Sad, isn't it? I was married to the guy for thirteen years. He has wonderful qualities, but he's a little macho, you know? He's dying to apologize to you, to make things right with you, to marry you in Oklahoma if you'll still have him. He's just too proud to walk in here with his tail between his legs and beg."

"So he sent you?" she said skeptically.

"Yes, because I'm the one who's responsible for this whole mess," I lied some more. "After I told him he was wrong to punish
you
for
my
mistake, he asked me to be his emissary. He said I owed him a favor and I do." I held up the package I'd brought with me. "He insisted that I give you this."

"What is it?" she said, eyeing it as if it were about to detonate.

"Something that celebrates a mutual interest of yours—a love you both share."

I reached across her desk and handed her the package. She unwrapped it carefully and looked perplexed when she saw what it was.

"An oil painting?" she said.

"Of Buster," I said. "Dan had it commissioned for you as a wedding present. He knows how important Buster is to you, to both of you, so he thought it would be the ideal gift."

She studied the painting for a minute or two. "It's really, really beautiful," she said finally, smiling for the first time since I'd arrived. I was encouraged. I was really, really encouraged.

"Do you see the way the dog has ventured into the sea? How he's swimming along without a care in the world?" I pointed out. "Buster is afraid of the water. He sticks his toe in it and runs for dry land. So the symbolism here is that the dog in the painting is willing to take a risk, which is what Dan hoped you would do by flying off to Minco to marry him."

As she glanced up at me, a single tear rolled down her cheek. "I can't believe he had an artist paint this for me. Nobody's ever painted anything just for me. It really resonates."

"That's wonderful," I said, "but has it convinced you to forgive him? Will you let go of your pain and loss and suffering and accept his gift as an invitation to venture into the sea of life with him?" I know, I know. I even made myself nauseated. But hyperbole or not, my spiel was working. I could tell. Harry Thornberg had nothing on me.

"How can I not forgive him after this?" she said, gazing at the gift Evan had intended for me. "A painting of Buster. It just proves how well he knows me."

"Exactly."

"Well, now that he's shown remorse for how he treated me, maybe we do have a future after all."

"Oh, Leah. I'm so thrilled to hear that." I clapped for joy until I saw her grab the phone and start dialing. "What are you doing?"

"Calling Dan," she said. "He made the first move. Now it's my turn."

"No!" I snatched the phone out of her hand and placed it back in its cradle. "I mean, it's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"As I said, Dan is kind of old school when it comes to things like
feelings
!" I rolled my eyes to underscore that my ex had caveman tendencies. "You can't just go gushing about the painting to him. He'll die of embarrassment. He's not ready to talk to you. He couldn't even come here himself, remember?"

"But if he wants us to get back together—"

"He does want that, but his ego is bruised. He needs to feel comfortable in his own skin before he talks to you." God, I hated that expression. "Did you know that his favorite memory of you is the day you met, in the North Meadow in Central Park? He was playing football, and you walked by and stole his heart."

"Wow. It's my favorite memory too," she said after a lovesick sigh.

"Excellent, because that's where he wants you to meet him next Wednesday afternoon at two o'clock. At the football field in the North Meadow at Ninety-seventh Street."

"Next Wednesday?" she said. "Why not tomorrow?"

Because it's not going to be easy to get him there at all, I thought, and I'd better give myself at least a week to pull it off. "He specifically mentioned that day. It must have sentimental value for the two of you."

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Look, he asked me to persuade you to be there, so I'm doing my best," I said more firmly than I meant to. I counted to ten and began again. "Will you meet him at the place where destiny intervened, where you spoke your first words to each other, where your love blossomed? Will you take the leap of faith and reclaim your man?" Yikes. I wondered suddenly if I might have a career as a writer of country and western songs.

She pondered Dan's proposition. My proposition. "How do I know he'll show up?" she asked. "He might get cold feet."

"It was his idea," I reminded her.

"But still," she said. "If his ego is so bruised…"

"He'll show up," I said. "If he doesn't, then he isn't the guy we both think he is."

More pondering, accompanied by a narrowing of her eyes. "This could be another one of your schemes, Melanie. Another way to trick me."

"Fine. Don't trust me," I said. "Trust love." Forget the country and western songs, I thought. Maybe I should write Hallmark cards.

" 'Trust love,'" she said, nodding. "I really, really like that. It reminds me of romance novels."

Okay, so I'd write those. As soon as I figured out how to get Dan to trust love too.