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said she was a white witch; others simply said she was gifted healer. Tina’s visits to the Flynn farm had ceased when those rumors reached her father’s ears.

“Trust me, I can tell,” Maggie said. “He’s the one for you, and you, for him.”

“He’s a good man,” Tina said carefully.

Maggie looked back at the guys, then looped her arm through Tina’s, and gently urged her forward. “Do you know what a croie is?”

When Tina shook her head, Maggie explained, “Think of it as a soul mate. Michael is mine. I think Doc is yours.”

Tina didn’t know what to say to that, but Maggie wasn’t finished. “Let me ask you this. Does he seem protective of you? Do things for you for no apparent reason?”

“He showed up at my doorstep and took care of me when I had the flu. And he gives these amazing massages ...” Tina paused. Was it possible? Could Doc actually feel as strongly about her as she did about him?

“And you,” Maggie continued, the swirls in her eyes moving faster now, “do you think about him all the time? Feel different when you’re with him?”

Those questions were easily answered. Tina nodded.

“There you go. Croies.”

Tina wanted to believe her. She really did. But things were complicated, and Tina didn’t trust her own feelings. She said as much to Maggie.

Rather than be deterred, however, Maggie nodded emphatically. “Exactly! It’s no accident that Doc came into your life at this particular time. You’re meant to be together.”

Maggie was so earnest. But as wonderful as that sounded, she was too much of a realist to start believing in fairy-tale endings. She and Doc were still in the early phases of their relationship, and there was the potential to be so much more, but she wasn’t going to jinx it by making assumptions that could end up breaking her heart.

“You’ll see,” Maggie said with confidence. “But to answer your earlier question, I’ve continued my grandmother’s practice. I can make whatever you need.”

“But you said your husband is a doctor.”

“He is. A brilliant one.”

“How does he feel about your homeopathic remedies?” Tina asked, managing to stop herself before she used some of her father’s more derogatory names for the teas, balms, and poultices.

“He’s come to terms with it. I’ve accepted that modern medicine can be beneficial in certain instances, and he’s accepted that natural alternatives can be effective. I can give you some tea today that I think will help, but the poultices will take a little more time to pull together.”

“There’s no hurry. I can come back another day—as long as you don’t mind.”

Maggie’s eyes were doing that swirling thing again. “No, I don’t mind. I really enjoyed our visit today, and something tells me we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other in the near future.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Doc

“Too easy,” Doc muttered, admiring Yaz’s skill in setting up his next shot. Even Doc could sink it in with his eyes closed.

Yaz canted his head, scanned the table, and then called off a tricky double bank.

“Not a chance.”

Yaz grinned. “Five bucks?”

It was worth it. “Sure.”

Yaz leaned over the bumper, lined up his stick, and hit the cue ball with precision and the perfect amount of English. Doc watched in amazement as the cue hit one bumper, spun back, hit a second, then kissed the eight ball, and sent it dropping into the side pocket, just as Yaz had said it would.

“Now, you’re just showing off.”

Yaz shrugged as if it were no big deal. “It’s just geometry.”

“Right,” Doc said doubtfully as he dug into his pocket and handed over a few bills. “Just geometry. Admit it. You grew up in a pool hall, didn’t you?”

“Maybe. Another game?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

They’d already played three, and Yaz had whipped his ass each time. A man could only take so many solid thrashings before his ego felt the sting.

“You’re getting better,” Yaz told him encouragingly.

“Thanks.”

He was getting better. Not only had Doc been spending a lot of time practicing in the game room these days, but he was also learning a lot from Yaz. The guy could play professionally if he wanted to. He was that good.

Doc was heading back to his place when Church called out to him, “Got a sec?”

“Sure.”

“How’d it go today? You took Tina to see Maggie Callaghan, right?”

“Right. It went well, I think. Turns out, Tina and Maggie knew each other from when they were kids.”

“Did you tell her about the Goddess?”

“Maggie told her about what happened with her place but stopped short of suggesting anything that might get Tina’s hopes up. We took a basket of stuff along with us, and Michael said they’d make sure it got to the right people. If the Goddess is interested, then they’ll get some of the other brothers involved. One’s a lawyer; another’s good with finances.”

Church nodded. “Sounds good. Hopefully, we can get this figured out before Tina’s brothers do anything else stupid.”

“Any updates?”

“Heff and Sandy had dinner at Franco’s,” Church told him.

Franco’s was the best—and only—sit-down restaurant in Sumneyville and a favorite place to go for a night out. It was also where Sandy had worked as a waitress for years and a good place to get a rundown on townie news.

Church’s mouth turned downward; he was obviously displeased with whatever intel they’d come back with. As a general rule, Church didn’t condone gossip—probably because he was often at the center of speculation himself—but as a special forces man, he understood the importance of listening to chatter.

“Not surprisingly, Obermachers’ financial troubles is the hot topic. No one saw it coming.”

“No one, except the brothers and Renninger,” Doc said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“Speaking of, Renninger’s still MIA. Probably plans on staying that way, too. After word got out about Obermachers, people started taking a look at their own accounts.”

“No doubt there were a few rude awakenings.”

“No doubt,” Church agreed.

Doc’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out and looked at the screen, surprised to see Tina’s number pop up. When he’d

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