Kneading to Die Read Online Free PDF Page B

doing for his disease?”
    Stan slapped the newspaper on the counter. “Nutty does not have ear mites. He’s on a strict diet of organic food. When he’s not feeling good, I use natural medicine,” she said. “He’s doing extremely well. What can I help you with, Dr. Morganwick?”
    Carole sighed heavily and set the lid down on the treats. Nutty gave her a look that said, I can’t believe you were in my treat jar and didn’t bother to give me any; then he beat it down the hall to avoid getting his other ear pulled.
    â€œI thought you might be one of those organics, ” Carole said, drawing out the last word in distaste, as if Stan had told her she was a serial killer. “Nutty really should have traditional care. And a nutrition consult. I’ll tell you what. Bring him down tomorrow and I’ll give you a half-price visit this first time. That way he’ll be in the system if you need me in a pinch. And we can talk about his treatment then.”
    Stan was rarely speechless, but she’d never had an experience quite like this before. This woman must be crazy. And she’d let her in—well, she’d had no choice, really—and now the so-called doc was standing in her kitchen near her freshly sharpened set of knives.
    â€œI suppose that’s reasonable,” Stan said finally, at a loss for any other reply.
    â€œLovely! We’ll see you at eight tomorrow. Please be prompt. I’ll sneak you in before my first appointment. I do love new clients.” She smiled, finally, then walked out the door.
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    â€œThese alpacas are adorable.” Stan stood in the backyard of the Mackeys’ B and B, petting one. The soft brown animal nudged Stan’s hand as her movement slowed; she was clearly asking for more.
    â€œAren’t they great? This is Mittens.”
    â€œMittens?”
    â€œYes. One of our first. We got her when I was still getting used to the cold. Fifteen years after I got here.” Char laughed at her own joke. “So how are you liking town? Meeting a lot of people?”
    â€œSome. I met Amara Leonard.” She wondered if she should mention Carole’s odd visit.
    â€œShe’s a lovely lady, isn’t she? Let’s go inside and you can sample some of the gazpacho I’m making for our guests. I do hope you start meeting more people. It’s quite a social little town.”
    Stan followed her in. “I met the vet, too.”
    â€œCarole?” Char turned and observed Stan’s face. “Where did you meet her?”
    Well, now that she’d opened the door. Stan told her about the encounter earlier that day. “It was bizarre.”
    Char’s bright orange sundress lit up the kitchen like a fluorescent bulb. Orange seemed to be her favorite color. She accented the look with chunky red jewelry and matching four-inch platform flip-flops, which were one shade darker than her hair. Her eye shadow today was a warm, glittery gold. The whole outfit reminded Stan of a fancy bowl of ripe fruit. Generous-sized fruit. But in an inviting bowl.
    â€œCarole is an interesting woman,” Char said, choosing a knife and then attacking fresh tomatoes, their juice oozing over the wine bottle–shaped cutting board. “She’s very passionate about her work. And her town.”
    â€œHow long has she been a vet?”
    Char stopped cutting, knife in midair, to think about that. Tomato juice and seeds dripped red from her blade and splattered on the cutting board. “I’m not entirely sure, but Ray says her family’s been doing this forever. Her daddy owned that practice.” She lowered the blade again with the confidence of a guillotine operator, slicing the tomato neatly in half. “Put Doc Stevens in the driver’s seat when Carole left town. But then she came back.
    â€œI think she’s feeling threatened by all the choices people have these days.” Char