Wrinkling my forehead and grimacing, I shook my head. “No way.” I hissed out the words. “And stop talking about him. He can hear you.”
“Of course, he can’t. He’s down on the pavement. Now stop hiding in the car—”
“I’m not hiding. I just don’t have anything to contribute to this very bizarre situation.”
“He seems to have settled right between your front wheels again.” The man in question laid a hand over my mom’s rolled-down window. “I think if you put the car into reverse and let it roll back really slow, I can pick him up before he can move back under.”
“I’ve never seen a turtle crawl so fast.” Aunt Gail stood on the other side of the car, shaking her head. “Take it slow, Karen, so maybe he doesn’t notice that you’re moving and then—I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.” She gazed pointedly at our helpful neighbor, her eyes flickering toward me in the backseat.
“Charlie.” He grinned. “Charlie Mitford.”
“Nice to meet you, Charlie. So maybe the turtle won’t notice Charlie swooping in to save the day.” She smiled sweetly, and I swore the woman batted her eyelids.
Mom shifted into reverse and eased us back so slowly that I could barely feel it. Charlie leaned forward, his eyes glued to the road . . . and then in one quick, fluid movement, he darted forward. When he stood again, coming back into my line of vision, he had an armful of protesting turtle.
“Whoa, buddy. Take it easy, there. We’re trying to help you.” He held the turtle out a little. “Thank the nice ladies who didn’t run you over.”
My mother laughed as Charlie lifted Mr. Turtle toward her. Meanwhile, Aunt Gail opened up the rear passenger door and leaned in, her eyes wide and intent.
“Vivian! Get out here!” she hissed. “Did you see him? He’s adorable, and he’s built. Get out of the car and say hello.”
“No.” I gave my head a quick, decisive shake. “You’re being so obvious. Stop.”
“Vivian, get out of this car now and introduce yourself, or I’ll tell him my niece is in the backseat, too damn shy to be seen.”
She’d do it, too. The woman was relentless when she’d latched onto an idea. “I kind of hate you right now.” I gritted my teeth, took a deep breath and opened my door, sliding out and standing.
Charlie jumped a little. Clearly, he hadn’t realized anyone else was in the car. “Oh. Hey. Um . . . where did you come from?”
If I’d been a different kind of woman, I’d have a snappy reply ready. But because I was me, I pointed to the backseat. “I was just . . . there. Um . . .” I managed a little laugh. “I was trying to stay out of the way of operation save-a-turtle.”
“Oh.” He was staring at me, but it wasn’t with some kind of admiring, love-struck gaze. I couldn’t read his expression at all. His eyes narrowed a little.
“This is my daughter, Vivian.” My mother piped up to help things along. “She’s living with Gail—that’s her.” She pointed to her friend. “Right around the corner. Do you live in this house?”
“Yeah.” Charlie struggled to hold onto the turtle’s shell. “I just moved in with my grandfather a couple of weeks ago.”
“Oh, you’re Henry’s grandson?” Aunt Gail nodded, her smile broadening. “He’s a lovely man.”
Charlie grinned, too. “He’s okay. A little bit ornery, particularly right now. I don’t know if you knew it, but he had a heart attack last month.”
“No!” Aunt Gail frowned. “How did I miss that? It must have happened while I was down in Miami. Is he okay?”
“Uh, yeah—” The turtle had decided that he’d had enough of the small talk, thank you very much, and he was ready to be released. Charlie grimaced. “You know what, let me set this guy free over by the lake. I think he’s getting freaked.”
“Oh, of course. Here I am babbling on, and you’ve got an armful of turtle. We’ll catch up later. If you need anything, you or Henry, we’re just around the corner. My house is the one with the swing by the lake.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Nice meeting you.” He swung his gaze around to encompass all of us, and once again, I saw that fleeting expression of—something—cross his face.
All three of us stood there in the middle of the road, watching as Charlie carried the unhappy turtle across the lawn and between two houses, heading for the lake. When they’d disappeared from our view, Aunt Gail made a small humming noise.
“Now, wasn’t that interesting?” She winked at me, and I shook my head.
“You’re unbelievable.” I climbed into the backseat again and slammed the door. Aunt Gail resumed her position at shotgun, laughing as she did.
“Hey, it was kismet! Here we are talking about how you’re going to meet men to date, and boom! One practically runs into the street in front of our moving car.”
“That was the turtle, Aunt Gail. And although I’ve agreed that I’m going to kiss a lot of frogs, I think I’m going to draw the line at turtles.”
My mother sighed. “The point is that here was this perfectly wonderful, available young man, and you were going to hide in the car instead of getting out to be sociable.” She put the car in gear and began driving again. I glanced backward through the rear window, back to where Charlie had returned to his grandfather’s front yard and picked up the rake. He stood, looking after us as we turned the corner.
“Just how do you know he was available, Mom?” I jiggled my leg a little. My knees felt funny . . . almost as if they were tingling. “Or come to think of it, how do you know he was wonderful? He might’ve been a serial killer.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.” She pulled into Aunt Gail’s driveway and made a face at me over her shoulder. “He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and he said that he just moved in with his grandfather. Men who are married or in committed relationships don’t do that. Not by themselves, anyway.”
“And Henry’s told me stories about his grandson. None of those included him being a serial killer,” added Aunt Gail.
“Because of course a grandfather would know that kind of thing about his grandson,” I said under my breath.
“You’re just looking for reasons not to like him, and I can’t understand why. I thought he was just yummy.” My mom raised her eyebrows and tilted down her sunglasses to make sure I caught her meaning. As if I could have missed it.
“Ewww. And on that note, I think we’re done here.” I leaned down to kiss her cheek through the open window. “Thanks for the listening ear, the shoulder on which to cry and the sweet coffee drink that will probably lead me into early diabetes. Have fun with Daddy tonight.”
“Oh, we will. I’ll talk to you later, sweetie. Bye, Gail.” She swiveled in her seat to look back as she reversed down the driveway.
“She means well, you know.” Aunt Gail shrugged and unlocked the door. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about your mother over decades of friendship, it’s that it’s impossible to stay mad at her, so you might as well just get glad sooner rather than later. She wants what’s best for you and Shelby.”
“I know. But between you and me, I’m not unhappy that she and my dad are going to be leaving the state while I’m kissing frogs. I have a feeling she’d find it impossible not to butt in. I’d end up with a parade of men who she just happened to find in the course of her day.”
“You’re probably right.” Aunt Gail winked at me. From his bed in the corner of the kitchen, Buster stood up and stretched, yawning as he padded over to first me and then to Aunt Gail.
“Who’s a sweet boy? Who needs his dinner?” She scratched his head with her knuckles. “So when does the great frog plan go into effect?”
“Tomorrow.” I kicked off my shoes and bent to pick them up. “Tonight, I’m going to put together the proposal for Karl, and then in the morning, I’ll talk to Teddi about finding some potential victims. I mean, single men.”
“You think Karl’s going to like the idea?”
I lifted one shoulder. “I’m not worried. This is a go
od concept, and if he turns me down, then I’ll shop it around elsewhere. I’m also going to look at getting a part-time job, because I think that might be a good source of dates. Do you know anyone who’s hiring?”
“Viv, I didn’t know my around-the-corner neighbor had a heart attack last month. Clearly, I’m out of touch.” She paused. “Oh! Actually, I do know of a place that needs help. Mr. Edguardo’s Perfect Pooches. You know, where Buster gets groomed.”
“A dog groomer?” I wrinkled my forehead. “I’m not that much of a dog person, you know. I love Buster, but he’s the exception instead of the rule.”
“Who could help loving this ball of cuteness?” She kissed his head. “But they wouldn’t expect you to actually do the grooming. They just need someone to answer the phones, book appointments and do sweeping, I think. The girl who was handling all of that moved away. It wouldn’t make you rich, but you’d meet a lot of people.”
“That’s a good point.” I took a deep breath and blew it out in one long exhale. “After all, what better place to find frogs than a dog groomers?”
“MR. EDGUARDO’S PERFECT POOCHES, HOW can I help you?” I held the receiver of the telephone against my ear, frowning as I concentrated on the voice on the other end. The woman was prattling on about needing an emergency appointment for her shih tzu as soon as we could get her in because her boyfriend was coming to town unexpectedly and she just couldn’t wait until her regularly scheduled appointment next week.
It was unclear to me whether the lady meant her boyfriend or her dog’s, but either way, I could tell she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. In the two weeks that I’d been working at Mr. Edguardo’s, I’d come to the realization that pet parents were a particularly intense group of people. Or maybe it was just Mr. Edguardo’s clientele who seemed that way. Regardless, I’d learned to do a lot of nodding and smiling.
“Ms. Donahue, if you bring Lulu in this afternoon at about one-thirty, I think we can squeeze in a shampoo, trim and blow out. Does that work for you?”
The answering squeal of appreciation was so high-pitched that I had to hold the receiver away from my ear. In the back of the shop, one of the dogs sitting in a kennel, waiting his turn with an operator, howled. I wondered if he’d heard Ms. Donahue from all the way back there.
Once I’d finished the phone call and noted the last-minute addition to the day’s schedule, Holly, one of the groomers, poked her head out of the service area.
“Was that Doris Donahue? Good God, I could hear her clear in the treatment room.”
“It was. Expect Lulu for her rush job after lunch.” I turned around to lean about the counter. “Are all pet owners this, um . . . quirky?”
Holly laughed. “Bat shit crazy, you mean? Not all of them, certainly. Some of them, definitely. The ones who come here have a higher percentage of insanity because they’re willing to pay the price for their animals to be pampered. Your normal, everyday pet parent who just trims his own dog or handles the occasional bath herself probably isn’t quite as neurotic.”
“Good to know,” I laughed. “I’m glad the nutty ones are in the minority.”
Holly smiled. “Hey, speaking of craziness . . . I don’t know if you’re interested, but a bunch of us are going out tonight. It’s going to be Lauren—you know her, she’s one of the other groomers—and her roommate Tyla, and my friend Audrey and me. There’s a wine and canvas place down by the college, and we like to go once a month or so. You know . . . they serve wine, and you paint a picture.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not an artist. Even my stick figures need explanation. I’m not sure I could manage anything as ambitious as a bowl of fruit.”
“Oh, it’s not fruit we’re painting here.” She quirked an eyebrow at me. “It’s models. Like, human ones. They hire these guys from the college to come and pose for us. It’s been a huge hit around here—they open at seven on Fridays, but you have to get there by five-thirty in order to have a chance of getting a seat. We’re going to meet there at five-fifteen and eat while we stand in line. There’s a great pizza place next to the wine and canvas shop.”
I considered. I really did need to get out. I’d put together my proposal for the Fifty Frogs article and submitted it to Karl, along with a pointed email that hinted I might have Mr. Clanton’s written promise of a waiting job for me. I didn’t actually have anything beyond Mr. C’s email wishing me luck and saying that he looked forward to the article I’d bring them about my time on the train, but I’d decided that it was close enough. Maybe Karl needed that little push to be open to my idea. Mr. Clanton himself wasn’t going to be any help, unfortunately. He’d responded to my email with an apology for not keeping me informed, but he’d also made it clear that he had washed his hands of the whole Sunbeam business. He was retired, and he wanted nothing more to do with the paper that had been his life’s work.
Whether it was my veiled threat or just that Karl really did like the proposal, he’d replied enthusiastically that he definitely wanted first look at the completed article. I’d laid the groundwork, written an introduction . . . and then I’d begun my quest to find the frogs. Unfortunately, none of them had begun leaping my way yet. The job here at Mr. Edguardo’s was relatively painless and paid enough for me to contribute a little to my upkeep at Aunt Gail’s house, but I’d yet to see any likely men come through the doors.
I’d also told Teddi that I was ready to date again. I’d expected her to come through with a list of single guys, friends of Shane or men she knew from the law firm where she worked. But she’d only sighed.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Vivi. I wish I could think of someone who might work for you, but most of the guys I know are in relationships already. I’ll keep my eyes open, but you know, have you thought of online dating?”
Since I looked at filling out one of those profiles as my last resort, the answer to that question was a resounding no. I’d laughed it off, told her I was just putting out the word and that I was sure someone would come along. After all, when I’d been dating Jeremy, I’d met plenty of eligible men, some of whom had been flirty, making me think that if I’d been single, they’d have asked me out. How hard could it really be to find a few dates, now that I was available?
Apparently, it was very hard. And it wasn’t just me. The girls who worked here at the groomers were all single, and they spent a good deal of time bemoaning the fact that meeting a decent guy these days was the equivalent of finding the Holy Grail.
“You can always go to a bar or a club downtown and find a hook-up for one night. That’s not a problem. But if you want someone who might actually call you again, that’s almost impossible.”
“But people are still getting married. I see it all the time. How does that happen?” I’d been standing at the front desk, chatting with Holly and Lauren before we opened one day.
Lauren had shrugged. “Most of those girls nabbed the men while they were still in college. Some of them nailed them down in high school. And once they found him, they didn’t let him go. Those of us who didn’t have the foresight to do that are sore out of luck.”
What she had said had sounded a little suspect and extreme to me, but on the other hand . . . the evidence seemed to bear it out. I was beginning to realize that maybe this mission wasn’t going to be as simple as I’d anticipated—and that I was going to have to put some serious work into coming up with potential frogs.
Which was why I mustered up some enthusiasm for Holly’s invitation. “That sounds like a lot of fun. Text me the address, and I’ll be there.”
“Great! We’ll have a blast, even if it’s just laughing at the other women there who are ogling the models.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Shit. I need to get back and finish Coco the Corgi.”
She dashed to the back, and I turned back to the computer to check on the expected arrivals when the bell over the door jingled. The man who walked in was being pulled by a cocker spaniel who ran straight for the desk and stood on its h
ind legs, looking at me expectantly.
“Sorry about that.” The owner eased his dog to the floor, smiling at me, and suddenly the afternoon was a little brighter. He had dark hair and vivid blue eyes that were warm and interested.
“Oh, no problem. We’re used to it, you know, dogs and all that . . .” I felt that I was on the verge of a full-out babble and shut my mouth. “How can I help you?”
“Well, this is Bella, and I’m Kyle. One of us has an appointment this morning for a haircut. I was hoping you could help us figure out which one it is.”
I laughed. “I’m going to guess that Bella is our client. Let me check her in, and then I’ll take her back to Lauren.”
“Thanks.” Kyle stood patiently as I noted his dog’s arrival in the computer.
“Is this number the one we should use when Bella’s finished?” I read off the digits.
“That’s it.” He smiled.
“Perfect. I’ll take your sweetheart there, and we’ll let you know when she’s finished.”
“Thanks.”
I took the leash from his hand, and his fingers brushed against mine. They were warm, but I noticed that his touch didn’t give me the tingle. It was nice—he was nice—but while I found him attractive, I wasn’t drawn to him. He didn’t do anything for me. He almost felt faintly familiar.
I delivered the very rambunctious Bella to Lauren, who greeted her with lots of rubs and doggie kisses.
“Oh, my God, I forgot Bella and Kyle were coming in today.” She glanced up at me from where she was loving on the pup. “Isn’t he delicious?”
I hesitated. “He seems really nice.”
“Nice? He’s a freaking god, Vivian. We all fall over ourselves to check Bella in or out whenever he comes by.”
“Well, happily for you, I’m not going to be competition. You can continue to vie for his attention without worrying about me.” I winked at her and went back to my desk, feeling virtuous . . . until I spotted Kyle still standing there, his eyes glued to his phone as he flipped through the screen.
Fifty Frogs (The Anti-Cinderella Chronicles Book 4) Page 6
