Chapter One
“Is that a search-and-rescue dog?” the old man asked, his eyes on Woodrow. He’d been staring at them for a good ten minutes before he finally spit out what he wanted to say.
Maggie wondered if the man realized that the clothes he’d picked that morning matched the black, brown, and white coat of the basset hound at his feet. If dogs tended to look like their owners, this was a prime example.
“No, he’s not,” Maggie answered. “Why, do I look lost? This is the veterinarian’s office, isn’t it?”
The old man seemed not to notice her sarcasm.
“Yes, it sure is. I only ask because, well, he’s wearing one of them vests. Did you buy it off Amazon like my niece did? She’s got a little Chihuahua she can’t go nowheres without. Carries it all over town. Even takes the little shit-eater into the grocery store.”
Maggie didn’t take the bait. But he wasn’t done with his investigation.
“What about yours? You take him into stores and to eat with ya?”
Woodrow looked up. His soulful brown eyes locked on Maggie’s, instantly calming her. He had that way about him. She could feel one tiny trigger of irritation or nervousness and a look from him could dissolve it. Unless it was warranted—then he was as alert as could be. Ready to protect.
“Mine is a real service dog, trained by a real trainer to employ techniques that can aid with a real disability,” she said politely but firmly, in a voice that didn’t invite further questions. Inside, she prayed he wouldn’t ask what Woodrow was trained for, not that she’d tell him if he did. It was nobody’s business that because of her experience with a relentless stalker, who was thankfully now behind bars, her fear had developed into sometimes-crippling anxiety attacks.
Woodrow was unique. Not only was he there to keep her composed, but he was protective and would never allow harm to come to her on his watch. If he sensed her anxiety rising, he’d nudge her, then move on to barking if she still didn’t employ her learned coping mechanisms to calm herself down. If all else failed and she went into a full-blown panic attack, he knew how to lead her out of a building if possible and could even keep people away from her until she felt safe again. He’d only had to do it once, when a crowd at a craft festival she thought she could handle overwhelmed her and she couldn’t get away fast enough. That day, she’d sat down and covered her eyes, crying and shaking. Each time someone approached to help, which would’ve made things worse, Woodrow used his body to shield Maggie and keep strangers at bay.
When she was calm enough, he led her away from the people to a quiet area. She’d bought him a steak that night, and he ate it while she praised him and thanked the universe that her son, Charlie, hadn’t been with her.
Thankfully this man wasn’t going to continue his fact-finding quest, though he did keep his gaze on her in an intense way that verged on being uncomfortable.
“They sayin’ that tropical storm might be headin’ this way and turn into a hurricane,” he said, finally finding something else to talk about.
“Oh, I hope not.” She didn’t mention that from what she’d seen on the news, the storm was in the Atlantic, not the Pacific.
She fidgeted in her seat, turning her body the other way, hoping he took the hint. She could feel the sweat pooling in her armpits and wished she’d worn a different-color shirt. At her feet, Woodrow shifted and leaned against her leg. He gave her a nudge of comfort, his usual reaction to the anxiety that oozed off her in waves of anticipation.
Maggie’s best friend, Quinn, couldn’t believe how nervous Maggie was to talk to Dr. Starr. It wasn’t as though she were interviewing to be a rocket scientist. She’d been a vet tech for seven years before changing over to public relations, so she had the required certification and the experience. Still, her desperation to land the job was sending her back ten years into a fresh-out-of-college scatterbrain with no self-confidence.
The outside door swung open and a woman rushed in, obviously in a hurry. She approached the desk and slid a framed photo toward the clerk.
“I was halfway to the airport and I remembered this. I have to hurry or I’m not going to catch my flight,” she exclaimed, looking at the time on the cell phone she held.
“And . . . it’s for who?” the clerk asked.
“Eleanor. She’s my Maltese being boarded because I can’t get my no-good brother to take our father to surgery and stay with him for a few days. Now I have to fly to Ohio and do it myself,” she said, pointing to the frame. “See that button? I recorded a message to Eleanor so that she will know Mommy hasn’t forgotten her. Please play it at least five times a day.”
The girl at the desk blinked several times at the harried woman, then nodded. “Will do.”
“Thank you. And please, please make sure she has her gummy vitamin every morning. It makes her hair shine.” With a whirl the woman turned and was out the door, leaving the clerk looking shell-shocked.
Maui had some interesting people, to say the least. From hippies to surfer types, classy to laid-back, millionaires to street people, all carving out a life between the hordes of oblivious tourists who came to share a piece of their island one week at a time.
Only days ago, she and Quinn had breakfast at a small café in Paia, and lo and behold, the actor Owen Wilson and his brother Luke were there, having coffee and omelets, dressed for the beach and all but unrecognizable from the characters they’d played in movies.
Then later she took her son, Charlie, to the beach and watched the surfers trying to outdo one another. Small families were camped out all along the sand, the sun-kissed children playing in the surf, not a care in the world.
Yes, she could see how living there could be addictive. And it was weird, but she felt a rare sense of safety knowing they were surrounded on all sides by water.
Quinn had finally talked her into moving to the island so they could be close again, and Maggie didn’t regret it, but wow—Maui was more expensive than she’d anticipated. She’d thought rentals were crazy expensive in her hometown of Savannah, Georgia, but Maui prices made those seem cheap. She’d found a little apartment smack-dab in the middle of a strip of four other tenants, then she bought a used car that had seen better days. Between rent and groceries, her savings were depleting at a rate she could only glimpse as it swirled down the drain of reality.
Luckily, now that she had a permanent address again, Charlie’s dad was sending the monthly child support they’d agreed on, but even that barely made a dent in what it cost to live in paradise. She was also thankful for the legendary Hana food trucks that could whip up a simple dinner of tacos, fish, or several other options at a price she could afford occasionally. The roadside fresh fruit stands were another good place for her to pick up snacks for Charlie and add some color to their lives and plates.
Quinn had offered to hire her part-time at the hotel, but Maggie always heard the best way to ruin a friendship was to either live together or work for each other. Still, she might have to take Quinn up on her offer if this job didn’t pan out.
Moving to Maui was taking a huge financial leap of faith, but starting somewhere fresh with a built-in support network like she had in Quinn was worth the worry. Anyway, Maggie liked a challenge. She was determined to prove she could come out on top, and do it with minimal help from anyone.