"If you sit and mope in your office all day, Dr. Brown, the imbeciles of this town that rely on us to cure their ails will claim malpractice on the both of us."
Andy's gaze didn't shift from the letter in his hand. "Ephram's having a great time in New York. His grandparents are spoiling him rotten. He doesn't want to come home."
Harold snorted. "Oh, please. As if Ephram would take the time to write you a letter. Who is that from?"
"Julia's mother," he sighed. "Good God, Harold, what are you wearing?" Andy's eyes were comically wide as he took in Harold's outfit of thigh-high waders held on with suspenders, a plaid flannel shirt, a vest with more zippers and snaps than should be legal, and a hat with hooks and lures decorating the brim.
"I'll have you know that this is the required outfit for participating in Everwood's annual trout fishing tournament." Harold fiddled with the snap on his breast pocket. "Surely you've been fishing before?"
Andy chuckle quickly turned into a cough. "Well, of course I have. I just never dressed the part, apparently."
"I figured as much." Harold produced a bag from behind his back. "That is why I've taken the liberty of picking your outfit for you."
"Yes, your outfit. Are you sure you're smart enough to be a brain surgeon?" He dropped the bag on top of the letter. "Now get dressed, Andy. You and I have a date with destiny."
"Destiny," Andy repeated. "It's our destiny to dress up like twin fools?"
"No, it is our destiny to win the tournament." Harold spun around and started to walk out of the office. "Hurry up. I'll be waiting by that monstrosity you call a vehicle."
Andy stared at the retreating back for a few seconds before rifling through the bag. He didn't ponder how Harold knew his sizes.