He chuckled.
She saw his face change as he read more of her résumé. “But you haven’t been in animal medicine for some time.”
“I—I know. I took a little detour for a while. Did some public relations. But I’m ready to come back.”
“Public relations didn’t work out?” He looked up at her.
Now that he was serious, she saw his eyes were the deepest pools of chocolate brown she’d ever seen.
Concentrate, Maggie, she told herself.
“Things got complicated.” She thought of how being hunted like some sort of animal had forced her to pull herself and her son as far from the public eye as possible. And how it made moving to a tropical island she couldn’t afford sound like a good idea. Putting an ocean between her and her biggest—yet most unwanted—fan was indeed the catalyst for her relocation to Maui.
“Things are always complicated around here. Tell me a little about what you did when you worked for your last veterinarian. Did you draw blood?”
She nodded. “Yes, I’m good at that. I also cleaned teeth. Gave medication. I had lots of duties, and the doctor I worked for piled on more responsibilities as I learned.”
“You didn’t mention cleaning cages,” he said, looking at her intently. “Or do you consider yourself graduated from that task?”
“Absolutely not,” Maggie said. “I’ll clean cages, bathe the animals—whatever it takes. I’m not too proud.”
He smiled slightly. “Well, tell me what all kinds of animals you’ve worked with, or are comfortable working with.”
“Mostly small animals. Dogs and cats, the occasional wild raccoon or squirrel. Oh, and reptiles and birds. I was the one they always called when an iguana was brought in because I find them fascinating.”
He raised his eyebrows in appreciation. “Iguanas are illegal to own on Maui. But so far I know you wanted to be a vet when you grew up, you tried a different career path, and now you’re looking to get back in the game. Oh, and you like reptiles. Do I have that right?”
“That’s right, except I don’t want to be a vet anymore. I wouldn’t be able to devote that kind of time to school. I’m looking for a job that’s dependable and safe.”
“Safe? Hmmm . . . that’s interesting.”
Maggie didn’t take the bait, but she did wish she’d answered differently.
“What about you as a person?”
What about me? What could he be getting at? She struggled to find something interesting but . . . safe . . . to say.
“This isn’t an exam, Maggie,” he said. “I’m just trying to get a grasp on who you are. Any hobbies?”
Was chasing a little human around the house a hobby?
“Oh, I do yoga,” she said, relieved to find a decent answer. “Or at least I did when I was on the mainland.” She didn’t mention that other than having Woodrow at her side, yoga was the biggest tool in keeping her anxiety at bay.
He was staring at her too intently, as though trying to analyze her. Maggie could feel her armpits getting swampy again.
“I don’t believe in all that New Age stuff, but if it works for you, that’s great. As for me, I’ve got the ocean and the jungle to keep me spiritually and physically in shape. Much easier than all that twisting, turning, and chanting in a hot room, if you ask me.”
She smiled. Her brothers were the same way. They thought yoga was something that hippies did to look cool. They were too tough to get in touch with their inner peace, too, it seemed.
“What about dealing with difficult people?” he asked.
“I’ve got plenty of experience in that department.” If only he knew. What could be more difficult than a man relentlessly pursuing you after you’d said you weren’t interested, for months on end?
“With that strawberry blonde hair and pale skin, you’ll find yourself a target at times.”
“Excuse me?”
“Some of the oldest families are clients here—the native Hawaiian ones, not the ones who moved here later—and they aren’t too happy with mainlanders or foreigners coming in and taking jobs. Usually since we work with their animals, they keep it under a tight lid, but in times of stress, it comes out. It can get ugly.”
Maggie was surprised. On the surface, Hawaii seemed like such a gentle place. A happy one too.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “They need tourists and business owners. But they don’t like that they need it. Their attitudes are justified too. It’s a result of their land being turned into some sort of Disneyland for outsiders, ruining much of the natural landscapes to make room for more resorts. And everything they once held dear has become commercialized. The grass skirts, the Hawaiian shirts, even their custom of making beautiful leis with native flowers has been insulted by the garish plastic knockoffs sold all over the world and meant to represent their home.”
“I’ve never even considered that. It’s just such a beautiful place, I assumed they were glad that other people appreciate it.”
“All of those things, the items and the dancing, it’s the history of their ancestors and it’s their culture. The hula dances were taught to the younger generations in order to pass down stories that spoke of family morals and values. Most of that was lost during the years of oppression. The majority of visitors don’t know much about Hawaiian history and don’t care to learn. They’re here for vacation—to escape and be pampered—not for a cultural education.”
Maggie decided right then and there that she’d learn about her new home, whether he gave her the job or not. She wanted to. Out of respect. Maybe curiosity too.
“It makes me sad that their way of life is being destroyed. Of course, if that comes across as bitterness toward me, I won’t take it personally.”
He shook his head. “You hit the nail on the head when you said ‘destroyed.’ Or at least, their culture is seeing a steady decline. Long ago the Hawaiian language was banned, along with chanting, hula dancing, and many other aspects of their traditions. Even though the ban was eventually lifted, now only about a thousand native speakers are truly fluent, and they’re dying out too quickly to pass it on.”
“I thought you’re new here too?”
“I am, but before I came, I did my research. I want my business to succeed not only for me but in the hopes that one day I can contribute to helping keep alive many of the Hawaiian traditions. That takes money for lessons, schools, and giving to foundations. I’m not there yet, but I hope to be.”
Maggie considered him. He had dropped his comic side and was earnest. Caring and compassionate. She imagined he was probably a damn good veterinarian too.
“I’d like to be a part of that vision,” she said.
His solemn mood changed and he smiled, then looked over at Woodrow. “I’m not going to ask you about your dog. Liam let me know that you have him and that he’s a good boy. Whatever the reason you need him, it’s your business and you can tell me in your own time. I think it’ll be nice to have a normal-size mascot, as long as you can guarantee he’ll never be aggressive.”
Maggie had already started sweating bullets again as soon as his eyes had wandered to Woodrow. She breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t going to have to explain, at least not today. Ironically, when she’d gone to find a dog at the shelter, she’d been looking for possibly a German shepherd or a Rottweiler. A dog who looked threatening. But when she’d passed him—a quiet, shaggy fellow just lying there observing everything outside of his cage as though lost in thought—they’d locked eyes and she’d melted.