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a sweat and he pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket to mop away the moisture.
          With a shrug and a sheepish grin, the mayor faced Taylor. "I'm sorry, Dr. Bowen, but as I explained on the phone, the late snows and the insurance comp–"
          "Yes, I understand that." Taylor drew a deep breath, searching her mind for another solution. "But you can't possibly expect human patients to be seen in a clinic intended for animals."    
          Taylor turned her attention, reluctantly, back to Sue. Being mature and professional was in direct conflict with the way she really wanted to behave right now. Still, the pained expression in Sue's eyes stayed her. Despite all the reasons Taylor should despise the woman, she couldn't bring herself to be deliberately cruel.  
          Sue shrugged. "We keep things quite sanitary here. We have lab, x-ray, and even surgical facilities. I guess it sort of makes sense."
          Taylor looked toward the ceiling. She couldn't believe her first experience away from the hospital where she'd done her residency would take place...in an animal hospital.
          "I just don't see how we could keep things...separate." Taylor recognized and appreciated Sue's efforts to reach a viable solution to at least one mess. The other situation–the past–was irreparable. "The waiting room, for instance."
          "This is a small town, Dr. Bowen," the mayor said, his voice quieter now. Subdued. "You know these people–folks are used to going places together. We only have one church, one grocery, one hardware store...."
          "One medical clinic for all species, with or without fur?" Taylor arched an eyebrow and held up her hands. "This is far from ideal, but why couldn't I see patients in my den temporarily?"
          "Insurance." The mayor sighed, his expression forlorn. "I argued with Smith until I was blue in the face, but that son of a b–gun wouldn't budge. He's the one who thought of this place. Said it was simple to add you to this policy until the new clinic is done."
          Taylor rolled her eyes heavenward. She'd been warned about insurance companies and doctors. "So I have no choice." Now there's determination.
          "So it would seem," Sue said, tapping her pencil against her knuckles. Her face was almost as red as her hair. "But the mayor hasn't mentioned this to my boss yet. Remember him? You know, the guy who owns the building, the equipment, signs my paycheck...?"
          "Well, I'm sure once I explain the situation, he'll understand," the mayor offered, rocking back on his heels with a smug expression on his face.
           The old coot told me he'd already made other arrangements.
          Sue stood and moved to the back of the room. Turning to look directly at Taylor, she said, "Wait here–I just remembered something."
           Yeah, I'll bet . For once in her life, Taylor wished she had a bad memory–or at least a selective one. The receptionist disappeared through the doorway, then emerged a moment later with Taylor's leather medical bag.
          "How did you get my–"
          Another door opened at the opposite end of the tiled waiting room and a small gray-haired woman emerged with a white cat cradled in her arms. "Oh, but Precious hates cat food, Doctor."
          "Yes, I can tell from her weight," a man said from behind the woman.
          The male voice washed over Taylor and she suddenly felt cold all over. Oh, my God.
          "Now I want you to promise me you'll keep Precious on this new diet, Mrs. Johnson."  
          "She'll starve."
          "There's no way this cat will starve herself, but she might very well eat herself into an early grave. Trust me, she'll eat this when she gets hungry enough."
          The woman and her cat stepped to the side and a tall man wearing a white coat walked out behind them.
          "Gordon," Taylor whispered. She