All I Ever Wanted(95)

And then they came in, and the impression started to head south.

“Jane, this is Callie Grey,” Ian said. “Callie, my aunt Jane.”

“I wasn’t aware you were seeing anyone, Ian,” his aunt said, glancing at him as if startled.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Dr. McFarland,” I said, smiling. She was small and very lean, pleasant face, gray hair, somewhere in her late sixties. “Ian’s told me a lot about you.”

“Mmm,” she said. She wandered into the great room, taking a look around. “So, Ian, this is your home. My, my. Very…expensive-looking.”

Okay…a veiled compliment at best.

“Would you like some wine, Jane?” Ian asked.

“I’d love some,” she said, not looking up from her perusal of his bookcase. “What is that strange smell?”

I bit my lip. “Um…dinner?”

“Ah. And what are we having?”

I brightened, sure my dinner would impress. “Well, I made sure everything was vegan, since Ian said you were—”

“Not anymore, actually,” she said, taking her wine from her nephew. “Too difficult, given where I’m living. Côte d’Ivoire. There’s just not enough agriculture in the area, so I’ve been eating eggs and dairy.”

“Oh,” I said. “Okay, well, we’re eating vegan tonight. Beet ravioli with a fava bean sauce, sweet and sour cauliflower…” Nothing that a human would willingly eat, in other words “…and, um…a salad. And chocolate cake.”

“Sounds like we could feed an entire African village with that,” she murmured.

“Here you go, Callie.” Ian handed me a glass of wine. His face was neutral.

“So! Ian! Tell me how things are with you,” Jane said, settling on the couch and ignoring the guacamole I’d made.

“Things are good,” he said, sitting across from her.

“Any plans to finish your education?” She smiled brightly.

Ian glanced at me. “I did a year of med school before switching to the vet program,” he explained. “No, Jane. No plans to go back.”

She shook her head. “That’s such a shame,” she said. “Cassie, let me ask you. If you could choose between healing sick children or treating an overbred golden retriever, which would you pick?”

Youch! I set my own wineglass on the coffee table. “Actually, my name is Callie,” I corrected, glancing at Ian. “And I’d choose the profession I really loved, I guess.”

“Mmm,” she said. “And what is it that you do, Callie, is it?”

“Yes. Short for Calliope. I’m the creative director at an advertising agency.”

“Do you find that rewarding? Getting American consumers to buy more…stuff?” She raised an eyebrow.

I paused. “Well, I do, actually. I love my job.”

“Mmm.”

Now, not to toot my own horn, but the number of people who didn’t like me were…well, Muriel and now Jane McFarland. If Muriel and I had met without both loving the same guy, things might’ve been different. We both loved shoes, after all, the basis of many a female friendship. But Jane…she was tough.

“So Ian told me you don’t get back to the States too often,” I offered. Angie came over and sat faithfully next to me.

“That’s right. Too much to do, too little time, too little money to fund the programs that could save lives. It’s a shame.” She looked around the room. “The cost of your dog alone, Ian, would’ve probably fed a family for a year.”

“I didn’t pay for Angie. She’s a rescue,” he said. “As is Callie’s dog.” He glanced at me with a little smile.

“You rescued Angie?” I asked.

He nodded. “Her first owner abused her.”

“You poor thing,” I said to the pretty dog. She wagged her tail. Jane didn’t comment.

“How’s Alé?” Ian asked. “I haven’t talked to him in a few weeks.”

“He’s wonderful.” Jane turned to me. “My son, Cassie, is a doctor in a small village in Honduras. You should visit, Ian.”

“I’m planning to,” he answered. I looked at him, but he didn’t elaborate. Then he said a few lines in rapid-fire Spanish—it was strange, hearing him burst into another language just like that. Jane answered, and then Ian said something else. I didn’t catch anything (the only Spanish I knew was from watching Sesame Street when Josephine was little, and since Ian and Jane didn’t seem to be counting to ten, I was lost). I did get one word, however…Callie. I hoped Ian was setting her straight on my name.

“Sorry,” he murmured to me when they were done.

“Ian, how’s…what’s-her-name…Laura?” Dr. McFarland asked.

“She’s fine,” Ian answered. He hesitated, then said, “She got married a few weeks ago.”

“Well, I hope you learned something. Don’t go rushing into anything. Marriage ties you down. Limits your options. And in case you did finally have a change of heart, you’d be able to finish medical school, no strings attached.” She gave me a look, making it clear just who the strings were.