Page 7

SEVEN

BEN COMES THROUGH THE door with a bottle of wine along with the lamb chops he’s going to grill, fingerling potatoes, a salad he gave in and bought premade at Citarella. When we’re settled in on the couch, Rip on the floor in front of us, wineglasses on the coffee table, Dr. Ben wants to know why I haven’t been answering his calls, and where the heck I’ve been all day. He really does say heck. And darn sometimes. And gosh. Me, I can swear like a champ. He hardly ever does. Part of his all-around niceness. He’s too good for me and keeps finding new ways to prove it.

I don’t tell him about my visit with Dr. Sam. I do tell him about the trip to the courthouse.

“Boy,” he says, “you sure know how to show yourself a good time.”

“What can I tell you? I’m a complicated girl.”

He leans over and kisses me. “And one who looks beautiful tonight, let’s get that on the record right now, counselor.”

“Liar.”

“Nope, I’m a doctor. Our motto is do no harm, especially not with flattery.”

“Down boy.”

“You talking to me? Or Rip?”

He asks if I want him to heat up the grill. I tell him there’s no rush.

“How did he seem? Jacobson, I mean.”

“Worried, frightened. Maybe a little of both. He thought he was in the clear, and now this. I haven’t seen the evidence, but there must be enough to charge him.”

“Will he get bail?”

“With another charge like this right on top of his trial? I doubt it. And he’s a flight risk even if he does make bail.”

We both sip wine.

“But he’s not your problem, right?”

“Totally not,” I lie.

The Cabernet is Train Wreck. One of my favorites, appropriately enough.

“Do you think he did it?”

“You want to know the truth?”

“Why I asked.”

“I have no idea.”

“But then you’re still not sure if he killed the Gates family, are you? Even though you got the acquittal.”

“Even though.”

He smiles at me. When he smiles at me like this, I feel as if my ability to breathe properly has been compromised. Something that seems to happen whenever I’m in the presence of this exceptionally good and exceptionally attractive man. With everything I’ve got going on, during the first trial and then its aftermath, I’ve got this vet in my life who makes me feel like a schoolgirl.

I do manage to get some air into me.

“I need to tell you something,” I say.

He waits.

Another deep breath.

Out with it, girl.

Tell him you’ve got cancer.

It’s a minor miracle you’ve managed to keep it from him this long.

So tell him, already.

“I think I might want to defend Rob Jacobson again.”