by Mara Wells
He laughed with her.
“Hey, while I’m here, can I take another look at the Dorothy?”
“Of course. May as well take advantage of the building being empty for this week.” He laced his fingers together and stretched, knuckles popping. Carrie made a face at him, and he grinned, remembering how much she hated the sound and how it had taken her nearly two years to tell him. They’d been so careful with each other at the beginning, afraid to say anything too harsh. Maybe that was why when things finally came to a boil, it had been so bad. Years of bottled-up annoyances colored every exchange. “Sorry.” He tapped his knuckles. “Forgot how that bothers you.”
“No worries.” She shifted, switching feet and putting more space between them. “Seems petty now, doesn’t it? All the fights over stupid things. Crack your knuckles if you want. I can take it.”
“Not all of it was petty.” Lance’s thoughts clouded with the not-so-petty words they’d flung at each other. Look at them now, still working through the weekends, dragging their kid into it. Were they really all that different than before? He cleared his throat. “Today’s a good chance for you to do a walk-through of all the units. Demo on the roof is done, so it’ll be quieter. Not that roof installation is silent or anything, but at least the walls won’t be shaking.”
She studied him through her long lashes, the ones that didn’t really need makeup, they were so dark, but that she delighted in making even longer with her mascara wand. “You were serious about me getting the job, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, of course. You’re the best.” He pushed away the memory of her fluttering those lashes along his cheeks, teasing him with light brushstrokes until he was desperate for her kiss. More desperate anyway. “Why wouldn’t we want the best for our building?”
“Thanks.” She smiled and checked the time on the phone she had strapped to her upper arm. “Well, I hate to cut this party short, but do you think we could do it now? I already feel like this day is so out of control.”
“Sure.” The day wasn’t the only thing out of control. Another minute on the bench and he’d reach for her, pull her flush against him, and make her remember how good they were together. He stood, quickly, decisively. The elevator kiss could’ve led to more, but she’d shut it down. He had to respect that. If they got tangled up and things went south again, Oliver would be the one to suffer. Lance could enjoy Carrie’s company, admire her even, but it was better for all three of them if he and Carrie kept it platonic. He imagined a black-and-white movie clapboard and someone yelling, “Lance and Carrie, take two: No one gets hurt.” That was a sequel he’d pay to see for sure.
Carrie called to Oliver, and Lance called to Beckham. Both came trotting at their names, and LouLou followed out of curiosity. They walked to the Dorothy, Beckham pulling ahead like it was a race between the five of them and he was determined to win. LouLou dawdled, sniffing each palm-tree trunk they passed and stopping at particularly odorous blades of grass. When they came to a felled coconut, Beckham spun on the end of his leash and joined LouLou in a thorough inspection.
“So much for being in a hurry.” Lance tugged on the leash, but LouLou dug in.
Carrie smoothed a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Let them have their fun. Poor Beckham’s in for a day of solitary confinement once we get home.”
Lance watched as LouLou stepped aside so her buddy could get in a good sniff. When Beckham lifted his leg and peed on the coconut, it initiated a whole new round of inspections. “I could keep him.”
“No, that’s okay.” Carrie’s ponytail swung from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. “I’ll only be gone a few hours.”
Lance warmed to his idea. “I’ll be working today, too, but at least here he’ll have LouLou to keep him company. He won’t get bored. She won’t get bored. It’s a win-win, right?”
He could tell Carrie was waffling by the way she eyed him from under her lashes. God, he had to stop thinking about what she could do with them, how she drove him wild. “I could swing by after five to get him?”
“Great!” Lance stopped and dialed back the enthusiasm. He didn’t want to sound desperate. “The guys will love seeing him again.”
Carrie’s head snapped up. “Again?”
Oh crap. He’d forgotten about his and Sherry’s little secret. He twisted the nylon leash between his fingers and confessed.
Carrie stormed ahead a few paces. “I can’t believe Mom would do that without telling me. We had a deal. I thought she meant it. Every boo-boo, she said, every burp.” She pulled out her phone. “I trusted her! And she goes and hands my dog off to, to—” She cut herself off to jab at her phone.
Lance caught up and touched her arm, stopping the call. Carrie turned to him, his fingers still in the crook of her elbow. Her workout tank top was plain black, so her eyes looked more brown than green today. She blinked up at him, and the mix of exasperation and fear in her eyes felt like a lead pipe to the abdomen.
“The important thing is that she made sure both Oliver and Beckham were cared for.” Not that he was taking Sherry’s side over Carrie’s, never. But the two seemed to have reached a working truce, and he hated to be the wedge between them. “That’s what you trust her to do, right?”
“But you’re my ex. What was she thinking?” Carrie’s words were outraged, but her tone no longer was. He’d always appreciated that about her. She might be quick to anger, but she was equally quick to cool off and consider the other side.
Oliver’s loud chortle caught both their attention. He’d plopped down next to the coconut, which was roughly the size of his head, and was rolling it back and forth. He slapped the coconut with both hands. “Look at my ball!”
“That’s a coconut, buddy.” Lance smiled and held out his free hand. “Come on. Let’s leave the coconut where you found it.”
“Coconuts are yummy. Gamma puts them on cupcakes.” Oliver opened his mouth wide and took a face dive toward it.
“No!” Carrie lunged for her son, and Lance was right behind her. Oliver probably wouldn’t die from licking a dog-christened coconut, but it was also not something Lance wanted to see go down. Carrie was fast, but Lance’s arms were longer. He scooped up Oliver, grabbing him by the stomach in a sort of Superman hold, and swung him in a circle.
Oliver was too surprised to be upset about losing his coconut. He clapped his hands and yelled, “More! More,” when Lance tried to put him back on his feet.
Carrie stealthily kicked the coconut down into the street drain, a disappointed Beckham watching her with a drooping tail.
“Wait, where’s LouLou?” Lance set Oliver on the sidewalk but kept hold of his hand. He must’ve dropped the poodle’s leash when he lunged for Oliver. He looked toward the Dorothy, then back toward the dog park. No luck.
LouLou was nowhere in sight.
Chapter 16
“We’ll find her.” Carrie kept step beside Lance on yet another neighborhood side street, Oliver propped on her hip. Kid must weigh a ton, but every time he offered to take the child, Carrie shook her head.
Lance wished he had Carrie’s confidence that LouLou was only a few more steps or calls away, but they’d been searching for over half an hour, and there was still no apricot poodle in sight.
“Caleb will kill me.” Lance’s phone burned a hole in his back pocket. He should call Caleb and Riley and let them know what happened. But what could they do from the deck of their cruise ship except worry? It’d be better if he found LouLou, and they never had to know. But if LouLou was gone, at some point, he’d have to tell them that he’d utterly failed at what should’ve been the fairly simple task of keeping their dog safe.
And he wanted to be a father? He couldn’t even keep track of a dog for a full week without losing her. When he thought of all the things that could happen to a small child in this world, his gut tightened. He felt nauseated. God, how did parent
s live with this terror all the time?
They turned down yet another street, taking turns calling for LouLou. Stately black olive trees rose forty feet into the air, shading the street and sidewalks with their evergreen leaves. After Hurricane Andrew in 1992, many homeowners chopped down trees, especially ones as tall and thick as a black olive, to avoid the trunks splitting their houses in half during a future hurricane. It was rare to find a whole block of mature shade trees.
“I expect to come across a lemonade stand at any moment.” Lance held Beckham’s leash in one hand, trailing behind Carrie while the dog checked every crack and crevice of the old sidewalk. “It feels like we’ve traveled back in time here.”
“This is one of my favorite neighborhoods.” Carrie pointed out the For Sale sign on a midcentury ranch-style home painted blue-gray with a rather exuberant orange door. “If only, right?”
Lance whistled low. “Must have a huge yard. Look at the size of the mango trees in the back.” The distinctive elliptical leaves towered far above the roofs of the one-story homes around them. “They must be at least fifty years old.”
“Trees really make a street feel like home, don’t they?” Carrie let Oli slide down her side, keeping a firm grip on his hand once his feet touched the ground. Oli reached up for Lance’s hand, and the three moved forward, Oli’s arms raised above his head.
Carrie swung her arm, lifting Oliver up a few inches between them. Lance pitched in, helping dangle Oli in the air for a moment. Oliver picked up the game, leaping into the air and jumping ahead like an excited frog-child. His squeals riled up Beckham, and the dog raced ahead before rearing back when he hit the end of the retractable leash.
“Now look what you’ve started,” Lance chided, but he didn’t really mean it. He might be freaking out inside, but in every other way, this was a nice family outing. Mother, father, son, dog. He felt weirdly patriotic about the whole thing, like they were the 1950s American dream in action. If not for the worry about LouLou, this wasn’t a terrible way to spend a Monday morning. It alarmed him, really, how easy it was to settle into a rhythm with Carrie. He’d chalk it up to old patterns, but Oliver swinging between them was certainly new. It was easy to imagine a life where this was a normal day. Too easy. He let himself slide into the fantasy anyway, this vision of family life. His wife, his kid, his dog. A walk on a beautiful day, sun shining overhead, ocean breeze keeping it cool. LouLou would show up any minute. Anything less would ruin the illusion.
Lance’s phone blasted out his ringtone at full volume, jarring him out of his homey thoughts. He didn’t recognize the international number. Normally, he wouldn’t pick up for an unknown caller, but with Caleb out of the country, he thumbed the Accept button and raised the phone to his ear.
“How’s LouLou?” Riley’s anxious voice sounded loudly in his ear. God, how did she know? Did she have poodle radar? Were Riley and LouLou psychically connected? He stopped walking and mouthed “Riley” at Carrie. She took the leash and showed him crossed fingers, as if luck would keep him alive after Caleb found out he’d lost his fiancée’s precious poodle.
He dialed back the volume so that when he told her he was currently looking for her dog, her shrieks wouldn’t deafen him. Carrie gripped his arm, squeezing tight enough to leave fingernail rings on his skin.
“What?” he said a tad too loudly.
“How’s LouLou?” Riley shouted in his ear. “Can you hear me? The connection sounds fine on this end.”
“I can hear you,” he stalled, looking at Carrie expectantly. “Did you ask about LouLou?”
While Riley repeated her question, Carrie pointed ahead to a splash of apricot fur ducking under the thick, leathery leaves of a clusia hedge. “I’ll get her. You stall,” Carrie whispered, letting go of Oliver’s hand before sprinting away from him, Beckham right on her heels. “Watch Oli.”
Lance tilted his head and trapped the phone between ear and shoulder. Ahead of them, Carrie approached the bush and dropped to her knees. An excited LouLou emerged, some kind of stick stuck in the fur on her back, and jumped on Carrie’s thighs. LouLou and Beckham took a moment to sniff a greeting before Carrie swept the poodle up, picking out the stick and dropping it to the street. She strode toward them, grinning in triumph, Beckham trotting proudly beside her as if he’d single-handedly saved the day. LouLou wriggled, but Carrie kept a firm hold on the runaway dog.
“Are you there? Can you hear me?” Riley’s voice got more high-pitched with each question. “Is LouLou okay?”
“I’m here. She’s here.” Lance cleared his throat. No need to elaborate on how that second part was a new development. “She’s good. Real good. Queen of Fur Haven and all that.”
Riley audibly exhaled. “What a relief! I’ve been so worried about her. She’s eating? Not too mopey?”
“No, no problems. And it sure is convenient to stay at your place while we start work on the Dorothy. She’s not alone for more than a few hours at a time.”
“I’m glad to hear it’s all going well.” There was some kind of tapping on the line. “What a terrible connection.”
“Uh-huh.” Lance felt only a tiny bit guilty at his earlier misdirection. All’s well that ends well, right? “Hey, is Caleb around?”
“Sure. Tell LouLou I love her. Here’s Caleb.”
Lance waited a beat until his brother’s voice came on. “What’s up?”
“City didn’t accept the parking garage plans. Santos is still pushing for a full garage.”
“No way. Fur Haven is special.” Caleb’s immediate and firm response made Lance’s gut tighten in the bad way. All this stress was going to give him abs of steel.
“I had to make an executive decision.” He willed the gut knot to loosen. He’d done the right thing. Caleb would adjust. “I approved Adam’s new plans. We emailed you, but I guess you were unavailable.”
“For a couple of days! I haven’t been able to check my email since we hit international waters. It honestly couldn’t wait until we’re back?”
“I keep my projects on schedule.” Lance used his professional, I’m-the-expert voice. “Besides, Adam’s solution is elegant. I think everyone will be happy.”
“As long as Fur Haven is still there when we get back.”
“It’ll be here when you get back.” How much longer, Lance wasn’t sure. Adam wanted to break ground soon, and there was no reason they couldn’t move both the garage and the Dorothy along at the same time. Remodeling and foundation building were two different skill sets. No overlap in the workers, and he trusted Mendo to be able to handle two crews.
“Everything’s on track at the Dorothy? No surprises yet?”
The leak under the elevator. Galvanized steel pipes instead of the cast iron he’d been expecting. Sure, cast iron could rust and crack, but galvanized steel was trickier, often looking fine on the outside but so rusted and clogged on the inside it was like a closed-off artery that could cause a heart attack. And they were so fragile. Messing with the one under the elevator had caused cracking. All the piping would soon be replaced anyway, but galvanized steel meant more potential for leaks and drama along the way.
“We’re right on schedule.” Lance’s own voice got too loud. “Nothing much to see yet, but the elevator passed inspections, and the roof is going on smooth as silk.”
“Good, good. We’ll be back in a week.” Caleb paused, a muffled voice that was probably Riley in the background. “We should probably go. Others are waiting to use the landline here.”
“Where are you?”
“Amber Cove.”
“Nice.” Lance had never been on a cruise. Maybe it was time to take a vacation himself. After the work on the Dorothy was completed, of course. Carrie held LouLou up to the phone, and she licked Lance’s ear. The dog, not Carrie. He kind of wished it were the other way around, alas. “LouLou sends her love.”
Caleb a
ssured Lance that he and Riley sent their love right back to the poodle, and Lance hung up.
“Close one.” Lance felt as out of breath as if he’d been the one to sprint after LouLou.
Carrie pressed her lips together like she was suppressing laughter. “Could the timing have been more perfect? It’s almost like this little stinker had a plan, isn’t it?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me that she’s smarter than she lets on.” Lance stared into the poodle’s dark eyes. LouLou thumped her tail at him. “Did you know it was Riley on the phone? Is that why you let us find you?” Thump, thump went her tail. “I think you’re right, Carrie. She’s diabolical this one.”
“I’m so glad we found her.” Carrie squeezed LouLou and kissed the top of her head.
“Me, too.” Finally, Lance’s stomach muscles relaxed. No more involuntary ab crunches—at least he hoped that was it for the day.
Carrie hefted the poodle in her arms. “LouLou lost her collar and leash along the way, the sneaky dog. Can you carry her?”
Carrie was all smiles, but he could see the day catching up with her, the tiredness in her eyes. “I’ll take the kid.”
“I’ve got him.” Carrie smiled. “Trust me, you’re getting the good end of this deal. Oli weighs like a million pounds.”
“Do not!” Oliver said, very serious. “Gamma says I’m a four-hundred-pound gorilla.” He held up his arms to Lance. “Pick me up, Lance! You’ll see.”
Lance hefted Oliver onto his hip. “I’m not sure either estimate is true, buddy.”
Carrie took Oliver’s defection with a rueful shake of her head. She accepted Beckham’s leash and resituated LouLou under her arm. “Give it a few blocks. You’ll see.”
