The Perfect Plan

by Carina Taylor

  Evan groaned. "I didn't think there was a young, single man in Colter."

  "There's several now. She's going on a date with Lane, the antique dealer, on Friday. And Dale was awful chatty with her today, too, when he stopped by."

  "Did he seem interested? And since when has Dale been chatty?"

  Marcie smiled when she heard the urgency in Evan's tone. "He was always such a nice boy." Marcie coughed to keep from laughing.

  Her grandson may like to manage and plan circumstances for his benefit, but Marcie had practically raised him, and she loved to beat him at his own game. Evan had chosen the perfect career for himself. Being an architect gave him control over the outcome of things. Much the same way he liked to orchestrate every detail of his life.

  He could plan himself into a picture-perfect, risk-free life if he wasn’t careful. Marcie wanted him to live it to the fullest, and if he didn't go out on a limb and ask Libby out on a date, he would always wonder if he had just been the convenient choice. Marcie knew that a day would come when Evan would need to be sure that Libby chose him because she wanted him.

  "Why did Dale stop by?" Evan pushed. She could hear something thump in the background.

  "Why else would he stop by? We had a nice chat over lemonade. And come to find out, he met Libby at Vince's retirement party when you were here."

  "Something must be wrong with him. Why would it take him so long to show that he was interested?"

  "Why indeed," Marcie commented dryly.

  The phone was quiet. "Fine. You win. I'll ask her out. But I have to do it in person. I can't just text her. I need to see her and ask her face to face."

  "You do that, dear. Now, I need to go downstairs and say goodbye to Vivian. She's heading home to pack up her stuff before she moves out here permanently. Colter is reeling in the young people."

  "More like you are, Grandma," Evan laughed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  LIBBY picked out a pair of chandelier earrings that would go well with her pale yellow dress and gladiator sandals.

  Whatever-his-name was picking her up in half an hour, but she'd had nothing but time to kill, so she got ready early.

  She heard thumping downstairs and decided she better check on Marcie. She was probably polishing a shotgun or some other task an average eighty-year-old woman would be doing.

  The thumping came up the stairs then a bark. Unless Marcie decided to get a dog, it had to be Carl. Libby stepped from the bathroom and saw not only Carl but Evan following close behind.

  What was he doing here? He was wearing charcoal gray slacks, a crisp white shirt, and a loosened striped tie. He held a matching gray suit jacket under his arm.

  A sour smell filled the hallway. Libby’s gut clenched as she sniffed the air.

  The wave of nausea that hit when Carl leapt to the top of the stairs was nearly enough to make her lose her lunch.

  "Carl, get back here," Evan commanded as he chased after the dog.

  He hadn't noticed Libby standing in the open doorway and was intent on catching the dog.

  Libby stepped from the bathroom door and closed it with a snap. She looked both ways to make sure Marcie wasn't nearby.

  "What are you doing here?" Libby asked. They had texted early that morning. He hadn't mentioned anything about coming to visit. Libby tried not to look ridiculous with a giant smile on her face.

  She looked down at Carl who bounded happily toward her. That was when she realized the source of the smell.

  It wasn't Evan.

  Carl was covered in something dark brown, possibly black, and he held something in his mouth.

  Carl ran toward her. He leapt forward just as she turned and fumbled with the bathroom door, trying to get inside before the dog got to her.

  It was too late.

  Carl dropped the lump on her feet then jumped up against her body, rubbing whatever black stuff was on him all over her yellow dress.

  Libby bellowed and shrieked. "Get off! Down — ouch! — down, Carl!"

  Carl licked her cheek while his paws rested on her shoulders. Libby tried not to gag and focused her energy on pushing Carl away. He was not easily deterred. Evan finally managed to pull Carl down.

  "I'm so sorry. He snuck in the house while I was grabbing my bags from the car. He looks like he's been having a day of it with some roadkill." He grinned sheepishly as he grasped the dog and dragged him back down the stairs and outside.

  Libby opened the bathroom door and surveyed the damage that had been done by the dog.

  It was irreparable. She'd have to start over. Her curls were losing their curl, and she had slobber all over her face. There was a smudge of dirt on her chin, and her yellow dress was ruined.

  She started removing her jewelry and sandals that were now slime-covered. Just as she bent down to remove the second sandal, she saw something move out of the corner of her eye.

  She had forgotten about the object Carl carried in his mouth. The dark lump was moving where it sat outside the bathroom. Libby took a step toward it to get a closer look. The object stood up and looked at her.

  She screamed and jumped onto the bathroom sink.

  She looked around for anything she could use to defend herself against the new intruder. All she found was her bottle of hairspray. She happened to have first-hand experience on getting hairspray in the eye, and it was enough to slow down a rampaging dinosaur.

  She screamed and sprayed with her eyes closed until Evan came running into the bathroom, straight into the fog of hairspray she had created.

  "Oh my gosh, it burns! Why do you keep pepper spray in the bathroom?" he yelled. Libby stopped spraying, and when the fog cleared, she noticed there was a vein sticking out on his neck. It was his anger vein. She'd only seen it on rare occasions.

  "It's not pepper spray! I'm sorry, I was trying to keep that wild animal away from me!"

  "Keep what away from you?" he asked as he continued to rub at his red eyes and try to blink away the hairspray.

  The empty doorway showed that the home invader was long gone and probably had been for some time. "It's gone! It was just there! How could it get away so fast?"

  "What? What was it? Is this another of your psychotic breakdowns?" he asked.

  She slapped him on the shoulder with the sandal she still held. He held her hand as she climbed down from her precarious perch on the sink.

  "You really should consider learning to be more of a people person," Evan suggested with a falsely sincere look on his face.

  She raised the sandal again, but he caught her wrist. "No matter how hard you try, you can't squash me like a bug. Now, why were you standing on the bathroom sink, screaming like you were being murdered and spraying hairspray everywhere? Your hair isn't that big."

  Oh, so now he decided to take a dig at her hairstyle. It wasn't her fault it took an entire bottle of hairspray to hold any wave or curl in her hair.

  "First off, I am not crazy. I am one hundred percent sane. I'm the sanest person I know. And any sane person I know would have done exactly what I did, so there." She turned to stamp off for dramatic effect but then remembered that the animal could still be loose in the house and instead walked back to Evan and pushed him in front of her, using him as a shield as she marched him down the hall.

  "Umm, may I ask what the sanest person in the world is doing right now?"

  "I'm sacrificing you for the greater good," she replied grimly.

  "Whose greater good?”

  "Everybody's. Well, mainly mine. If that beast jumps out at us, it's going to get you first."

  "You never told me what it was."

  "It was that thing Carl was carrying when you let him in and he ruined my outfit. This is your fault, by the way. And now, that giant bear that the dog dragged in here is running around, making himself at home. Heck, he's probably in the kitchen by now, pouring himself a cup of coffee."

  She scowled when she realized she was no longer pushing Evan along. He was dragging her, which was co
mpletely unnecessary. She planned to be glued right behind him. He held her left hand in his left, and her right hand in his right. It forced her to walk faster, and she kept bumping into his heels.

  "What kind of animal was it?" he asked as he scanned the hallway.

  "Definitely a bear. It was dark and fuzzy. It was huge. I wonder if it's hunting us while we're looking for him? Maybe we're its next meal," she suggested.

  She couldn't see his face since she was still facing his back, but the way he tilted his head made her think he was rolling his eyes at her.

  "Do you always enjoy being so dramatic?

  "No, no I don't, but it sure makes it more fun, don't you think? I lived with Vivian for three years — she must be rubbing off on me. I'm making the most of the situation. Even if Sasquatch is loose in the house, and a gym addict is dragging me around behind him."

  "Gym addict?" He chuckled.

  It was Libby's turn to roll her eyes at him. "You would pick that out of everything I said."

  "Does that mean you're admiring my figure?" He chuckled as he grabbed her wrist and forced her hand against his stomach.

  "Knock it off, you sicko. Nobody wants to touch that," Libby teased, even though she did, indeed, want to touch that.

  Yanking her hand from his grasp, she shoved away from him. "Just because you have nice abs doesn't mean girls want to touch them all the time."

  "Just some of the time?”

  "Fine, just some of the time. Happy now? Why don't you and your abs start looking for our new roommate while I get ready for my date? Again."

  Evan feigned surprise. "Date? Are you sure you even know what that is?"

  "Yes, a date. Usually, parents explain dating to their children, but I don't mind explaining to you. See. Typically, the man picks up the woman, takes her to a nice restaurant, goes on a walk, then drives her home, kisses her goodnight, and arranges another date."

  Evan leaned closer to her. "How many energy drinks have you had today?"

  "One?" she suggested.

  He shook his head.

  "One case," she amended.

  "That explains so much right now. You're stress-drinking caffeine. You know that stuff affects you like that. I can't believe you drank four of them. Have you lost your mind? You'll end up in the hospital doing that. Not to mention, you get an attitude when you drink that much."

  "You know I struggle with sarcasm regularly. But when I've had this much caffeine, I embrace it and let it flow out of me."

  "I feel bad for your date tonight. There's no way he'll be able to keep up with you. You're already enough of a handful for me. Now, who is your date?"

  "I'm nobody's handful. My date is the man who owns the antique shop in town. I keep forgetting his name, though, so I've been thinking of him as A.M."

  "A.M. You don't even remember his name?"

  "Yup, A.M. means Antique Man." She smiled, pleased with herself.

  "Should you go on a date with someone whose name you can't remember?"

  "You go on dates to get to know people. What else am I supposed to do in the evenings? Play bingo at the town hall? That crowd's a bit rough, even for me." She shook her head and pretended to shudder.

  "That's it — no more energy drinks for you. I may even cut off your coffee supply while I'm here. And you're canceling your date tonight," he said firmly as he turned around and pointed her toward the bathroom. He put a hand on her waist and began pushing her toward it.

  "Who died and made you king?"

  "Someone has to keep an eye on you. You're a menace to society when you've had that much caffeine."

  She spun around and poked him in the chest with her index finger. It hurt her finger. "No one is going to keep an eye on me, and definitely not you. It's your fault I'm here, so at least let me make the most of it."

  She emphasized her words with finger jabs at his chest.

  That was when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move near the foot of the stairs.

  "There it is!" she shrieked. She gave Evan a shove toward it, and he stumbled over his feet, pausing at the top of the stairs where he teetered precariously. He lost his footing once more and began a stumbling descent for a few steps. He caught his balance and zeroed in on the intruder. He ran down the last few stairs, skipping steps as he went.

  Libby debated about remaining upstairs. She should let Evan deal with the ferocious beast in the house. It was his fault that it had gotten in the house, anyway. And she didn't want to think about dealing with wildlife. But she wouldn't have a clear conscience if he got bit, eaten, or killed.

  With no small amount of trepidation, she ran down the stairs after him. They were in the living room, and Evan was lifting chairs and coffee tables, looking for the creature. Libby ran to the broom closet and grabbed an easily accessible mop before she ran to Evan's side.

  "Where'd it go?" she asked.

  Evan was scanning the room before his eyes landed on the floral couch.

  "I think it's hiding under the couch. Let me see that." He reached over to snag the mop from her, but she didn't let go.

  "This is my mop; get your own."

  "I just need to borrow it for a second."

  "What will I defend myself with if you have my mop?" she asked as he pried her fingers off of it one at a time.

  Evan grinned mischievously. "Why, me, of course."

  He bent down and pushed the mop under one end of the couch before slowly sweeping it to the other end.

  The animal ran out, straight for Libby.

  Libby ran straight for Evan.

  She clambered up his legs, shrieking, clawing, and climbing until she sat haphazardly on his shoulders while he teetered precariously.

  "Libby! Stop screaming. You're going to scare it."

  There was a pause while Libby turned her screams into silent ones.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  Libby swung her gaze down toward the doorway of the living room. A.M. stood there, flowers in hand, looking sharply dressed in his slacks and navy collared shirt.

  Libby tried not to die of mortification. Her date was standing in the doorway with flowers for her, while she was sitting on another man's shoulders, her hands fisted in his hair and her legs wrapped around his neck while he wielded a mop.

  It was not Libby's best day. Or life. She wanted one Hollywood moment in her life. Was that too much to ask for?

  She didn't know what to say.

  No explanation would seem plausible, short of claiming insanity. Now that she thought about it, that could work.

  No one in their right mind screams like someone is murdering them while sitting on top of someone swinging a mop back and forth. Libby knew she should say something. She should excuse her actions somehow. She should apologize or do anything to break the awkward silence.

  But she was saved by the antique man.

  "Marcie said I'd find you in the living room, but I can see you're busy." He looked pointedly at the animal cowering away from the end of the mop. "We can reschedule for a more convenient time."

  He laid the flowers down on the coffee table, and she could have sworn he was struggling not to laugh when he walked from the room.

  Libby's morale came crashing down. "He's not going to reschedule for a different time, is he?"

  "Nope," Evan confirmed her fears that they did indeed look as crazy as she imagined.

  "Is it too much to want to live a normal life in Colter?"

  "Libby," Evan gasped, trying to unwrap her legs from his throat. "If you're trying to kill me, you're doing a good job."

  "Sorry." She started to climb down but then remembered the reason she had jumped up there to begin with and forgot all about her broken date.

  "Where is it?"

  He pointed to Marcie's favorite recliner.

  There, curled up and sleeping soundly, was a baby raccoon. Not a bear then. The mud that had covered it had dried and fallen off during the chase. The little black blob was a sweet baby raccoon. />
  "You mean that's what we were chasing around with a mop?" Libby asked as Evan knelt to the ground so Libby could climb off his shoulders.

  She studied the small raccoon. It slowly opened its eyes and stared back at Libby.

  "How adorable," she crooned as she walked over to it. It shrank back. Libby knelt down and slowly reached a hand toward the baby. The raccoon relaxed when Libby didn't make any sudden movements.

  "Libby, don't touch it. It might have rabies," Evan told her.

  "You might have rabies," Libby shot back as she gingerly scooped up the small animal. Its eyes blinked slowly at her as she snuggled it into the crook of her arm. She must have passed inspection, because the baby curled up and went back to sleep as she gently pet its head.

  "I'm going to keep it," Libby whispered loudly.

  Evan stamped over. "No, you're not going to keep it. Grandma's starting to rub off on you."

  "Shh, you'll wake her up," Libby admonished.

  "So you already know it's a girl?" he asked unbelievingly.

  "Of course it is. It's too cute to be a boy."

  "No comment."

  Libby looked down at the soft raccoon curled in her arms. How had she been so frightened of something so adorable? The little thing was so sweet and innocent it was Libby who had probably seemed like a big monster spraying hairspray at it. Well, she would have to make it up to it. She would make it a nice little bed beside hers, and it could sleep inside the house with her.

  It needed a name – and a bath. Every pet needs a name. It had to fit its personality.

  Evan entered the room carrying a cardboard box with a towel laid in the bottom of it. She hadn't noticed him leave. She had been so engrossed with petting the soft fur of. . . Beatrice. Yes, Beatrice was a nice name. Bebe for short.

  Libby laid Bebe onto the soft towel as carefully as she could. She didn't even wake up.

  She gently patted its head, then took the box from Evan's grasp, marched upstairs, and set it on the center of her bed. After grabbing a clean pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, she closed the bedroom door quietly so as not to wake up Beatrice.

  As she changed into her shorts in the bathroom, she felt disappointed as she realized she would not be going on a date tonight. Oh, she didn't deceive herself into thinking she was genuinely interested in A.M. He was kind enough and good looking, but she couldn't even remember his name much less take the time to stalk him on Facebook.