Page 16

M att adjusted his tie for the third time, then decided to remove it altogether.

The blue collared shirt looked fine on its own, more relaxed but still respectful of the occasion.

He hadn’t worn a tie since going to a veterinary conference in Bozeman two years ago.

It felt foreign now, like a remnant from another life.

“It’s just dinner,” he told his reflection in the hall mirror. “A thank-you dinner. Nothing more.”

But the flutter in his stomach as he checked his watch suggested otherwise.

Grabbing his keys and wallet, he took one last glance around the house before heading to his truck.

He’d made reservations at The Lakeside Grill.

It wasn’t Sapphire Bay’s fanciest restaurant, but it was its most popular.

The floor-to-ceiling windows offered spectacular views of Flathead Lake, and the chef, Paul Renard, had a knack for preparing locally produced food that had earned him more than one award.

As he drove the familiar route into town, Matt rehearsed conversation topics, then immediately felt foolish.

He’d spent countless hours with Lynda over the past few weeks, caring for the puppies, treating the clinic’s regular patients, and handling the influx of animals displaced by the storm.

They’d never struggled to find things to talk about before.

But this was different. The conversation he’d overheard had shifted something between them, acknowledging the possibility that had been growing since the first time they’d met.

The Lakeside Grill’s parking lot was half-full when Matt arrived. It was busy enough to create a pleasant ambiance, but not so crowded that they wouldn’t be able to hear each other.

Lynda was waiting for him in the small reception area, wearing a pretty, deep green dress. Her silver hair was loosely styled around her shoulders rather than in her usual practical braid, and she’d added simple pearl earrings that caught the light when she turned to greet him.

“I was early,” she said by way of explanation, a hint of nervousness in her smile. “It’s an old habit from my clinic days. If I wasn’t fifteen minutes early to everything, I was somehow running late.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Matt said with a relieved sigh as some of his nerves disappeared. “For years, I set all the clocks in my house ten minutes fast.”

The hostess appeared before Lynda could respond, leading them to a table by the windows. The sun was beginning to set, casting golden light across the lake and turning the water into a dazzling mirror of the sky.

After they were seated and had ordered drinks, an awkward silence settled between them. Matt was suddenly conscious of the weight of his hands, unsure about where to rest them on the table.

“This is ridiculous,” Lynda finally said with a self-deprecating laugh. “We’ve spent more time together than apart over the last few weeks, and now we’re acting like strangers.”

Matt smiled. “I was just thinking the same thing. I rehearsed conversation topics in my truck on the way here.”

“You didn’t,” Lynda said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I did,” Matt admitted, grinning now. “I had a whole list of possibilities. The top three were veterinary school memories, favorite surgical techniques, and the time Mrs. Pemberton brought her cat in wearing a hand-knitted sweater and booties.”

“I’d pay good money to see that,” Lynda said, taking a sip of her wine.

Matt laughed. “I’ll see if I can find the picture. I know I took one, but it was only for medical record purposes.”

“Of course,” Lynda agreed, her smile reaching her eyes.

The awkwardness disappeared, and they settled into a comfortable rhythm of conversation as they studied the menus. Matt recommended the trout, explaining how Chef Renard used a local huckleberry glaze that transformed the dish into something extraordinary.

“I haven’t eaten trout before,” Lynda confessed. “It wasn’t on the menu of the restaurants I visited in Denver.”

After the waiter took their order, Matt leaned forward. “What do you do in Denver when you aren’t working?”

Lynda’s fingers traced the rim of her water glass, and Matt noticed the slight hesitation before she answered.

“Apart from catching up with my friends, I spend most of my time at work. My ex-husband and I started the vet clinic. We worked long hours, trying to build our client base and pay our bills. Those bad habits stayed with me.” Lynda looked up at him with a rueful smile.

“Since I’ve been in Sapphire Bay, I’ve realized how small my world has become.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but I can’t remember the last time I tried something new, like trout, just because I wanted to. ”

Matt sent her a reassuring smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re trying something new tonight. Did you enjoy working with your ex-husband?”

Lynda nodded. “In the beginning, I did. Ray was always pushing the boundaries of what was possible. We focused on cases other vets wouldn’t take.

” Her eyes grew distant. “They were good years. We made real advances, helping animals that would have been euthanized elsewhere. After the divorce, I kept the practice going the same way. I pushed even harder and took on more complex cases. I guess I had something to prove.”

“To Ray?” Matt asked.

“To myself,” Lynda corrected. “I wanted to know that what we’d built at the clinic had been as much mine as his.”

Matt nodded, understanding the need to assert your own identity after loss, even if it was a different kind. “I know what you mean. When Maria wasn’t teaching, she handled all the clinic’s accounts and tax requirements. I was just the vet who treated the animals.”

Their food arrived, and they fell silent as they tried the trout. It was perfectly prepared, with the huckleberry glaze adding a sweet tartness that balanced the richness of the fish.

“This is amazing,” Lynda said after her first bite. “You weren’t exaggerating.”

“Paul is an incredible chef,” Matt replied. “He uses local, organic ingredients in all his dishes. I’ve never been disappointed in a meal I’ve bought here.”

They ate in appreciative silence for a few moments before Matt continued his earlier thought. “Anyway, after Maria was gone, I had to figure out how to run a business, not just treat animals. Stephanie helped when she could, but she was sixteen and dealing with her own grief.”

“That must have been incredibly difficult,” Lynda said, her expression softening. “Raising a teenage daughter alone while grieving yourself.”

Matt nodded. He rarely spoke about how he’d felt after Maria died.

“There were days when I wasn’t sure we’d make it.

Stephanie was so angry at the cancer, at the world, and at me for somehow not saving her mother.

” He set down his fork, the recollection still powerful after all these years.

“She’d slam doors, stay out past curfew, and pick fights over nothing.

Then I’d find her in Maria’s closet in the middle of the night, surrounded by her mother’s clothes, sobbing. ”

Lynda reached across the table, her hand covering his briefly. “Grief isn’t linear, especially for teenagers. They feel everything so intensely.”

“Amy had a hard time with your divorce, too?” Matt asked.

“She was in college when it happened, but yes.” Lynda’s expression grew thoughtful.

“At first, she was firmly on my side. She was furious with her father for the affair, for throwing away our family. But then Ray began a campaign to win her over. He bought her expensive gifts and took her on incredible vacations with Melissa. Nothing was too much trouble.” She shook her head.

“It created a rift between Amy and me for years. She couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t just ‘get over it’ and be friendly with her dad at family events. ”

“That’s a lot to ask,” Matt said, feeling a surge of protectiveness toward Lynda.

“It was,” she agreed. “Eventually, Stephanie and I found our way back to each other. When her first son was born, she called me straight away. That’s when I knew we’d be okay.

” A smile touched her lips. “My grandsons have been the greatest joy. Dylan is eight and full of energy and curiosity. What he doesn’t know about computers isn’t worth knowing.

Eddie is five years old and more reserved.

He thinks things through, carefully watching everything before diving in. ”

The pride in her voice as she spoke about her grandsons made Matt smile.

“Stephanie’s children are similar. Their personalities shone through from the day they were born.

Lily’s the fearless one, always climbing higher than she should, trying things that make me hold my breath.

Ethan observes, calculates, and then executes his plans with impressive precision.

He’s six years old and manages to surprise me each time I see him. ”

“How old is Lily?” Lynda asked.

“Nine going on nineteen,” Matt replied with a chuckle. “She’s already negotiating bedtime extensions and allowance increases like a seasoned diplomat.”

Lynda laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “Dylan recently gave his mom a PowerPoint on why he should be allowed to have a pet snake.”

“Did it work?”

“It might have if his mother hadn’t been so firmly against the idea,” Lynda admitted. “I was impressed with his research, though. He’d included habitat requirements, feeding schedules, even a budget for supplies.”

As they finished their meal and ordered coffee, Matt was drawn to the way Lynda’s face became animated when she spoke about her family, her work, and the causes she cared about.

There was a depth to her that went beyond their shared profession—a compassion tempered by experience, a wisdom earned through both joy and heartbreak.

“Do you know what I’ve realized?” Matt said as they ate the huckleberry crumble they’d split for dessert.

“No, what have you realized?” Lynda asked, looking up from her spoon.

“I’ve spent fifteen years defining myself by what I’ve lost. I was a husband, father, and a widower.

Even my role as a vet became wrapped up in carrying on Maria’s legacy.

” He met Lynda’s eyes, finding understanding there.

“But these past few weeks, working with you, I’ve felt like.

.. just Matt again. Not defined by what came before, but by what’s happening now. ”

Lynda’s expression softened. “I know what you mean. After the divorce, I became so focused on proving I was fine on my own, that I didn’t need anyone, that I forgot how to simply be with someone.” She set down her spoon, her eyes meeting his. “Until I met you.”

The moment stretched between them, filled with unspoken possibilities. Matt thought about reaching for Lynda’s hand but hesitated, still cautious about rushing what felt like a delicate new beginning.

“I called Robert yesterday about buying my practice,” Lynda told Matt. “He’s interested, although we’re still discussing the terms.”

Matt felt a surge of joy, quickly tempered by concern. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. Whatever’s happening between us shouldn’t be the only reason for such a major life change.”

“It’s not,” Lynda assured him. “I love working at the shelter, and there’s a real need for wildlife rehabilitation expertise in this area.

The puppies were just the beginning. With the right facilities, we could help so many more animals.

” Her eyes lit up as she spoke. “And then there’s Isabel’s bookstore.

I enjoy helping her, especially with the community programs she’s planning. ”

“You’ve made a place for yourself here,” Matt said.

“I think I have,” Lynda agreed. “It surprised me how quickly it happened, how natural it feels.” She paused, then added more softly, “And you’re part of that. A significant part.”

Matt finally gave in to the impulse he’d been resisting all evening, reaching across the table to take her hand. Her fingers were warm against his, and she didn’t pull away.

“I’m glad,” he said.

As they walked to their cars after dinner, Matt felt lighter than he had in years. The evening had confirmed what he’d been feeling for a long time—that Lynda Morth was someone special, someone who understood both his past and his present in a way few others could.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said when they reached her car. “It was lovely.”

“Thank you for saving five puppies with me,” he replied with a smile. “And for everything else these past weeks.”

They stood for a moment in the soft glow of the parking lot lights, the slight awkwardness of a first date’s end hanging between them. Matt wondered if he should kiss her or if that would be rushing things.

Lynda solved his dilemma by rising slightly on her toes and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Matt,” she said softly.

“Goodnight,” he replied, watching as she got into her car.

As he drove home later, the taste of huckleberries still on his tongue and the memory of Lynda’s kiss warming his cheek, Matt Reynolds felt something he hadn’t experienced in fifteen years: the simple, profound joy of beginning again.