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  "Damn, Malcolm is still swimming out to sea even though the tide is coming in," he shouted as he anxiously scanned the ocean again. "My God, he's missed the edge of the final sandbar."

  He and the other walking members started shouting Malcolm's name frantically. Turk and the other men left any unattached canines to the ladies and moved out toward the rapidly advancing water's edge.

  Back in the ocean, the shouting penetrated through to Malcolm Brooks in the midst of his frantic paddling. Some part of his brain registered that the noise was coming from another direction than the one he was heading in.

  "My God, I am swimming the wrong way," he groaned. Malcolm turned his body in the direction of the howling and shouts. His body was telling him that it was exhausted and his one good knee was becoming harder and harder to move. Malcolm realised he had better go over on his back and rest for a while if he wanted to regain his energy. He managed to roll over, assumed as much of a float position as his knees would allow and tried to ignore the waves crashing over his head. Malcolm felt movement and realised that the tide was now coming in and it was moving him toward the shore.

  "He's managed to turn around," Gus told the others as the men stared out at the ocean at Malcolm and the incoming tide. The water was starting to swirl around Malcolm's jacket.

  "God, the tides coming in fast. We've got to get that jacket out of there."

  "To Hell with the jacket. What about Malcolm?"

  "He'll float in."

  "He's been in that water for quite some time. Might be getting hypo-thermic."

  Turk muttered some obscene curses, rushed down the

  now disappearing beach and moved into the water. He swam rapidly toward Malcolm. The others watched Turks right arm rhythmically appearing out of the water.

  The muscular, Paul Newman lookalike, reached Malcolm just as the wake generated by a freighter moving through the ocean past the sandbar crashed over his head and he sank beneath the waves. Turks dived down, grabbed hold of Malcolm from behind and brought him to the surface. He held Malcolm's head above the waves with one arm and pounded him on the back with the other. Malcolm coughed and sputtered as the water retched out of his lungs. The pain in every part of his body faded as he lost consciousness. The frigid water had finally numbed him completely.

  Turk pushed his powerful body to swim rapidly to shore towing Malcolm behind him. As he reached dry land Turk slung Malcolm over his back and deposited him in amongst his friends and their dogs on the soft sand around the logs near the walkway. Trump howled and tried to break free from the bench he was tied to. Malcolm was ominously still and silent.

  "It's hypothermia," Linda stated, her mind frantic with worry about Malcolm.

  "I've called the paramedics," Gloria held up her cell phone. Linda bent over Malcolm and tried for a pulse in his wrist.

  "He's still breathing but the pulse is faint."

  Turk grabbed hold of Gus's Malemute, Inuvik, and freed him from the bench. He dragged the dog over to Malcolm and motioned for him to lie down. The dog spread himself over Malcolm's chest and lower body.

  "Inuvik will warm the bastard up," he explained.

  "Good idea." Linda removed a scarf from her around her throat and motioned for Esther to give her the bottle of water she was carrying in a pouch. Esther passed the water over.

  Linda poured some of the water onto the scarf and cleaned off the sand and blood from Malcolm's face and nose. She lifted his eyelids and poured some of the water into his eyes. Sand and particles of barnacles washed out. Malcolm groaned.

  By the time the siren signalled the arrival of the paramedics Malcolm was starting to reach consciousness again.

  "What's he saying?" Gus Gustafson demanded.

  "I think he's calling Trump."

  "Don't worry about Trump, Malcolm," Gloria assured him. "Gus will take him home with Gigi and Inuvik."

  "Thanks," Gus groaned.

  Malcolm seemed to be able to use his eyes as the paramedics arrived. The eyes were open as the emergency workers checked out his vital signs and transferred him onto a stretcher.

  "One of us should go with him," Frank Simpson insisted.

  "I'll go if someone will look after Cleo," Linda felt anxiety forming as she took in Malcolm's condition. Tyler Thompson signalled he would take care of Cleo. Linda followed Malcolm into the ambulance.

  Inside the ambulance Linda found herself seated next to Malcolm's stretcher. He groaned and she placed her hand on his. His eyes opened wide and he seemed to be staring at her as if he recognized her.

  "Blanche?" he questioned. Linda went into shock.

  "No Malcolm. It's Linda. Linda Daniels."

  A look of great disappointment filled Malcolm's face. He slipped into unconsciousness again.

  "God," Linda realised. "He's still missing his divorced wife and it's been twenty years, they tell me. And all those young women. Maybe, he's getting even for Blanche leaving him."

  Linda felt her heartbeat increase as she stared around

  the ambulance. It reminded her of all her mothers' transfer ambulances. She had accompanied her to all her cancer treatments.

  "I wonder if now I'm going to lose my best friend?" The ambulances always reminded her of the impermanence of life.

  "My tranquillizers," Linda reached into her jacket pocket and pulled one of her prescription pills out of its case. "I really should stop using these, they're becoming addictive," she warned herself again.

  CHAPTER 4.

  Musical Chairs.

  Lying in his hospital bed Malcolm Brooks decided he must look like one of those disaster photos of a skier who has gone over a cliff and has broken every bone in his body. He stared at his right leg hanging in a cast and a strap, his right arm held up by a triangular bandage and at the tube slowly dripping some kind of liquid into his left arm. He felt terrible and wished that part of his entourage would clear out of the room. He was surrounded by his latest girlfriend Monica, employees, personal trainers, members of the dog walking club and his nephew and heir, Lorne Brooks. He wondered why Gloria Gustafson kept visiting him and hanging around for so long each time. He also wondered about the myriads of flowers filling his room from many of the female members of the dog walking club.

  "This is what happened when Blanche left me," he recalled. "My God, they must be after me again. But what could have caused the frenzy this time. I thought I had finally convinced the ladies, especially Gloria, that I was only interested in young things."

  Malcolm glanced at Gloria Gustafson and Esther Goodenough looking expectantly at him from chairs in his room. He decided to give them a message and motioned Monica over to his side. He grasped her right hand with his left and told her how glad he was to see her.

  "Maybe that will do it?" he thought hopefully.

  Monica looked shocked.

  "I didn't know you cared so much Malcolm. You've never told me so."

  Monica kissed him warmly on the lips. Despite the bandages Malcolm felt himself responding sexually to the voluptuous young woman leaning over him and kissing him passionately.

  "God, not here," he thought. Fortunately Monica removed herself from his side as three additional ladies came into the room. They stared at Monica with astonished looks.

  "I better not do that again," Malcolm thought as Monica blew him a kiss from across the room. "Monica might get the idea she's more than a temporary plaything."

  Malcolm recognised some more of the single ladies of the dog walking group.

  "So Sugar, how are y'all feeling today?"

  Malcolm groaned. He was a secretive and private person and the act of someone he barely knew calling him "Sugar," particularly someone he was not in the midst of pursuing, in front of a group of his employees, his girlfriend, other friends and dog walking club members left him mortified.

  "Well, you do look a lot like the Michelin Tire Man with all those bandages."

  Malcolm groaned again. Gloria had confirmed his worst fears.

  "H
e's not that bad." Malcolm felt slightly better as Linda Daniels challenged Gloria.

  "Linda's not like the others," Malcolm was surprised to find himself thinking. Since Blanche had left him, he had been extremely defensive with female members of the dog walking club. "Linda's always been a good friend. Always responds so quickly when one of my animals needs attention."

  "Thanks Linda," Malcolm told her forgetting to censor the warm tone in his voice.

  "Who are you?" Monica demanded, jealous of Malcolm talking to another member of the opposite sex in a warm voice.

  "My veterinarian, Dr. Linda Daniels. This is my girlfriend, Monica Mason, Linda."

  "Oh, you're the lady that takes care of Malcolm's animals."

  Linda realised that Monica had written her off as an animal attendant. She wondered what Malcolm saw in such a bimbo.

  "And what do you do, Monica?" Linda felt herself giving into her own jealousy.

  "Modelling. I'm with the Montgomery agency."

  "I should have known," Linda thought, suddenly feeling even more jealous of Monica's youth and perfect figure.

  "This is not like me at all," she realised. "My crush on Malcolm is bringing out my shadow side or something."

  The room suddenly turned into absolute chaos as Gus Gustafson came into the room with Trump and his own dog, Inuvik. The large, young, Sheep Dog charged over to Malcolm on the bed knocking Monica over in the process. She crashed to the floor with a crash and Inuvik licked her face.

  "My contact lenses," Monica screamed. "The dog's licked them out."

  Linda suppressed a laugh as the young woman felt desperately around for her missing contact lenses. It was obvious she could not see very well at all without them. Turk O'Brien picked up Monica from the floor just as Trump got past her and leaped onto Malcolm on the bed. Malcolm felt sharp pains shooting through every part of his body. He screamed.

  Turk grabbed the wiggling dog and lifted it off of Malcolm.

  Malcolm noticed even more people coming into the room as Monica gave up the search for her contact lenses, crashed into the wall on the way out and abruptly left.

  "I'll see you later, Darling," she shouted on her way out. "When we can be alone."

  Malcolm groaned. It was the first time Monica had called him Darling.

  "It's so hard to disengage them when they think they have a chance to become a wife," he thought.

  Malcolm tried to reach for the buzzer for a nurse to limit the number of visitors but Inuvik chose that moment to lick him on the face and more visitors came into the room.

  "At least they're male," Malcolm glanced past the Malemute at the men and recognized some more of his friends from the dog walking group. He gave a big sigh of relief as Linda came over to the bed and pulled Inuvik away.

  "She's not like the others," Malcolm decided again. The appraisal left him shocked. He was moved to rebuild his now automatic defences against women around his ex-wife's age as he realised he was finding Linda attractive as well as helpful.

  "It must be the near death experience. I've never felt like that about Linda before." Malcolm banished thoughts of the attractive and intelligent veterinarian out of his head.

  Linda stared at the tall, slightly portly industrialist covered in bandages.

  "Why do I find him so attractive?" she wondered.

  "Turk's the one who swam out and brought you to shore," Gus Gustafson told Malcolm. "You owe him big time."

  Malcolm put out his hand to the towering man who was keeping Trump restrained on the foor.

  "I can't thank you enough," he exclaimed. "You saved my life."

  "Weren't nothing. Someone else would have done it if I hadn't."

  "You were very brave," one of the ladies told Turk. Malcolm realised the lady with the cane was Beatrice Broughton, an old friend of Blanche's from the University.

  "Gus and Bea are right," Malcolm spoke up. "I remember swallowing a huge wave that crashed over my head just as you turned up."

  "Anybody would of done it."

  "I owe you big time. Anytime you need a return favour think of me."

  "Thanks, I'll remember that."

  "You've got to do something about that dog of yours, Malcolm," Gus insisted. "He's been driving Gigi nuts. I had to shut him in the garage before Inuvik killed him."

  "I'll take him," Turk volunteered. "He and Dogzilla have an understanding."

  "Or I can take him." Beatrice Broughton advised. "My back yard is fenced and my Pomeranian, Angus, and Trump get along fine as long as no female dog is present."

  Malcolm stared at the large, tabooed man and the slight, former university professor with surprise. Tears came into his eyes. He never wanted to bother people and had few if any close acquaintances. He was overcome that two relative strangers were offering to help out.

  "We'll take turns with the dog, Ms. Broughton. I'll take him tomorrow and you can have him for the rest of today."

  Bea nodded and Malcolm thanked them both.

  "Hopefully I'll be out of here soon. But the leg is cracked in three places. They're planning what to do about it."

  He stared at the pile of sheepdog hairs on his bandages left by Trump and became aware of the new pain in his groin.

  "God, I hope he didn't crack anything down there."

  "My car is down in the parking area, Mr. O'Brien. Perhaps you could put Trump in it. Please call me Bea."

  "If you'll call me Turk. I'll come down and place the dog in the car and then follow you home to get him into your yard. You sure you can deal with a dog this size?"

  "He'll be all right thanks, Turk."

  Malcolm, Linda and the others watched in amazement as the former race car driver got a hold of Trump's leash and accompanied Bea Broughton out the door. He was at least a foot taller than her.

  Linda noticed that Gloria had her mouth open in amazement.

  "Bea beat Gloria to the starting gate," she thought.

  Malcolm stared at his nephew Lorne as he moved deliberately through the room and stood in front of Linda Daniels.

  "Malcolm, who is this attractive woman?"

  Malcolm noticed Lorne looking at Linda's empty left-hand ring finger.

  "My veterinarian, Dr. Linda Daniels," Malcolm growled.

  "Linda, this is my nephew and one of my vice-presidents, Lorne Brooks."

  Linda stared at Malcolm's nephew. He looked a lot like a younger version of Malcolm. Linda figured he was around her own age. The man shook her hand warmly.

  "Would you have time for lunch, Dr. Daniels? I'd like to confer with you about one of my pets?"

  Malcolm stared at his nephew in astonishment. He was quite sure Lorne did not have any pets. To his amazement a

  stab of jealousy struck him as Lorne moved off with Linda Daniels into one of the corners of the room. When the two of them disappeared out the door a growl came to his lips. He remembered that Lorne was single. He had never married and was quite a womanizer.

  He felt a growing anger at his nephew and main heir as his employees, a doctor, and remaining members of the dog walking club descended on him.

  Ten minutes later in a Japanese restaurant in the heart of the city Linda found herself admiring the view and the man seated with her. The restaurant was surrounded by wooden walkways spanning water-filled pools complete with multicolored fish. Malcolm's nephew seemed charming and a slimmer, younger version of Malcolm himself. Linda noticed that his speaking voice was quite different. Malcolm was all business. Lorne had a much more intellectual voice.

  "You're concerned about a pet?" Linda was used to inquiries from friends and casual acquaintances about their animals.

  Lorne Brooks shook his head.

  "Forgive me, Linda, for that ruse. Actually it's you I'm interested in. I'd like to take you to the symphony next Friday? Kiri Te Kanawa will be the guest performer. How about it?"

  "You don't have a significant other?" Linda was quite taken with Malcolm's nephew. "It's probably his resemblance to Malcolm," she realised.


  "No, not at the moment."

  "Well, thank you Lorne. I've wanted to hear Kiri in concert for a long time."

  The waiter arrived with the food and Linda enjoyed her lunch immensely as Malcolm's nephew turned on his considerable charm. Toward the end of the meal Lorne became more serious.

  "You don't mind if I ask you a question about Malcolm do you?"

  "Malcolm?" Linda was taken aback.

  "Yes, I take it you've known my uncle for years?"

  "I've been his vet for ten years."

  "I'll be frank. I'm sure you're used to confidential discussions."

  Linda nodded.

  "Good, you see I want to know if you've noticed any changes in Malcolm's personality?"

  "Changes?" Linda was not pleased with Lorne's question? It was not concern about Malcolm she was detecting in his voice. She began to wish she had not agreed to attend the concert with Lorne.

  "Yes, you see the Board of Directors is concerned about some of Malcolm's business decisions lately. His judgement has been off and the running around he does with young women draws a lot of bad publicity for the company."

  "Bad business decisions?" Linda felt herself growing increasingly irritated at Lorne Brooks insinuations. And she certainly was not going to discuss Malcolm's taste for young women or his dating practices with anyone.

  "Heavy investment in his horse racing empire. You know he had a lot riding on the Kentucky Derby. His horse, Star Walker, was a favourite but didn't finish in the final three. Malcolm has spent a small fortune on facilities, trainers and even jockeys to bring him this far."

  "I wouldn't know about good or bad decisions in horse racing," Linda tried to evade the man's questioning. "Or in business, for that matter."

  "We're concerned about Malcolm's age. You know he will be eighty in a few weeks. Have you witnessed anything