William G. Tapply
The alarm jangling beside my ear failed to rouse Henry, my Brittany spaniel. He remained curled up on the bed beside me, where Evie usually slept. He was a warm body, but otherwise a poor substitute.
Evie had been gone for two days. It seemed like months already. She left on Sunday afternoon for a week-long gathering of hospital administrators at some conference center in Scottsdale, Arizona, with the word "Rancho" in its name. She wouldn't be back until next Sunday night.
She'd been promoted back in the summer. New title, big raise. Her new responsibilities