by Melinda Metz
Al picked up his own coffee. “Never gotten over being on that show.”
“What show?”
“Something PI.” He returned to his window.
The door opened again, and Marie came out. “He was a PI on the show, but the show was called Catch of the Day,” she told Jamie. “You didn’t recognize him?”
Jamie shook her head. “Never heard of the show.”
Helen appeared on her porch. “You forgot sugar again,” she said, putting a coffee cup on the railing.
“I never forget anything,” Marie said. She pointed at Jamie. “She’s never heard of Catch of the Day.”
“Too young,” Al commented over his shoulder.
“He played a PI living in Florida. Every episode he started off to go fly fishing somewhere, but then he’d find a dead body or some woman would ask him for help, and he’d have to work on the case,” Helen explained.
“It was on about ten years ago. You should remember it,” Marie added.
“It was on about thirty years ago,” Al corrected.
“It was on when my niece Valerie got married. Remember, Jonathan had his hair the same way Hud wore it on the show. The same way it is now. All the young men were wearing it that way back then. And Valerie got married—” Marie took a moment to do some silent calculations. “In eighty-nine.”
“About thirty years ago,” Al muttered.
The mail carrier headed over to them. She was probably in her early forties, with her hair in a gray-streaked braid. Her muscular legs showed the amount of walking she did on the job.
“Maybe I’ve seen him in something else,” Jamie said. “What was he in after that?”
“A couple guest spots,” Marie answered.
At the same time Al said, “Nothing.”
“Who are we talking about?” the mail carrier asked.
“Hud Martin,” Helen answered. “We’re trying to remember if he was ever in anything after his show.”
“He played an agoraphobic on an episode of Quantum Leap, a murder suspect on Murder, She Wrote—didn’t do it—a murder suspect on Law and Order—did do it—and friend of the big brother on Everybody Loves Raymond,” the woman rattled off, shifting her mailbag higher on her shoulder.
“Wow. I think somebody’s a fangirl,” Jamie teased.
The woman blushed. Not just her cheeks. The color spread all the way down her throat. Even the tips of her ears went bright red.
“No, not me. I just play a lot of trivia. I’m on a team. The Trivia Newton-Johns,” the woman said. She smiled at Jamie. “I’m Sheila, your friendly neighborhood mail gal. And you’re the new 185 Glass Slipper Street, right?” Jamie nodded, and Sheila handed Jamie a grocery store circular. “I’m only supposed to put mail in the box, but I’m a rebel.” She waved and headed back down the walkway, dozens of colorful keychains bouncing on the strap of her bag.
“She must be the star of her trivia team,” Jamie said. “Did you hear how fast she came up with Hud’s credits? Not even a second’s hesitation.” She looked over at Al. “So, when you said Hud never got over the show, you mean that’s why he’s trying to turn the disappearance of Paula the Pony into the start of a rash of burglaries?” Jamie asked Al.
“Wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t take the thing just so he could find it,” Al answered. He crumpled up a fresh newspaper and got back to work on the windows.
“What do you think?” Jamie asked Marie.
“I still say it’s under her bed or somewhere in the house. I’m sure that place is a wreck. Those two kids are left there alone almost all the time. Mom works till all hours. No dad in sight.” Marie tsked. “Addison takes Riley back and forth to preschool. I don’t know what they do the rest of the time. Watch TV and eat junk food, probably.”
Jamie raised her eyebrows. “Hope it’s not too bad.” She didn’t know what else to say. She took another swallow of coffee.
“I’ll send Al over there with some macaroni and a salad tonight,” Marie said.
“Paaaula! Paaaula!”
“Got a second wind,” Al noted, still working on the windows.
“I hope her sister’s trying to help her find it. Or at least trying to distract her,” Jamie said. The little girl sounded heartbroken.
“Paaula!”
“I’m going to go put in some earplugs,” Marie told Jamie. “Do you want a pair?”
Jamie shook her head. “I think I’m going to take a walk, get to know the neighborhood a little better,” Jamie said. “Any suggestions?”
“The Walk of Fame starts a few blocks away from here. Hollywood’s not the best at this end, but you’ll be fine during the day. It’s not a bad walk.” She headed inside.
Jamie had seen the part of the Walk of Fame outside Grauman’s, but decided it could be fun to walk the whole thing and see all the names. Plus, she got some good ideas when she walked. Maybe she’d come up with some new things for her List of Likes.
It took her about ten minutes to reach the first star—Benny Goodman. She didn’t know much about him. Famous Big Band guy . . . And that was about it.
As she continued down the block, there were so many names she didn’t recognize at all. Richard Thorpe. Marvin Miller. Genevieve Tobin. The history-loving part of her wanted to start researching each of them immediately. Had they been happy? she wondered. They’d definitely been successful in their careers, but did they feel like they were doing what they were supposed to be doing, meant to be doing? Or did they even think about that?
There were probably more than 2,500 different answers to those questions. On her tour, she’d found out that’s how many stars were on the walk. Forget about the people with names on the stars, what about the people in the cars, working in the stores, restaurants, and offices, dressing up like Wonder Woman farther up Hollywood Boulevard? Were any of them following their dreams?
Jamie suddenly felt silly. These were the thoughts of a college freshman. Who her age mooned around, wondering if people were happy and fulfilled, trying to decide what their own Passion was? But if she never stopped and really thought about it, wouldn’t her life just kind of . . . slip by?
Okay, so maybe she was being kind of emo and self-indulgent. But that’s what this year was for, and she knew she was so lucky to have it. Her mother’s gift had really been the gift of time to stop and think about what was truly important to her and then try to find it.
A sign on an unassuming storefront for a place called Applied Scholastics caught her eye. VLUNTEER TUTORS WANTED. Jamie stopped, considering. She’d felt sure she didn’t want to teach anymore, but maybe she just didn’t want to teach in a classroom. Teaching one-on-one could be a whole different thing. She could really connect in a way that was hard to do with a big group, maybe make a real difference in a kid’s life.
Impulsively, she stepped inside. The clean-cut twenty-something guy behind the reception desk greeted her with a friendly smile. “Hi. I saw your sign about looking for tutors, and I wanted to find out a little more,” Jamie told him. “I have a teaching certificate,” she added.
“Great! I’ll get Suze to come out and talk to you. She’s the point person for volunteers. Grab a seat.” He gestured to the chairs in the empty room and disappeared down the hall. Instead of sitting, Jamie wandered over to one of the glass-front bookcases.
Uh-oh, she thought as she read a few of the titles. How to Use the Dictionary by L. Ron Hubbard. Learning How to Learn by L. Ron Hubbard. Study Skills for Life by L. Ron Hubbard. Grammar and Communication for Children by L. Ron Hubbard. Uh. Oh.
She shot a glance at the hallway. No one in sight. She turned and walked out the door, resisting the urge to tiptoe. Deciding she needed to commemorate the moment, Jamie crossed the street, then took a picture of the little tutoring center. She’d so arrived in Hollywood.
And she knew one thing for sure: Her Passion wasn’t volunteering for Scientologists.
* * *
“Did you eat a sock?” David asked Diogee. Diogee w
agged his tail. He wagged his tail anytime anyone said a word related to food.
David had done a load of clothes the night before, and when he’d been putting them away that morning, he’d realized he was short one sasquatch and one tube sock. He wasn’t the neatest guy, but he was usually careful about keeping anything small enough to be swallowed out of the Diogee zone, because if Diogee could swallow something, he probably would. He’d eaten a bar of soap once. Also a mouse pad, a box of crayons from Lucy’s purse, a couple squeaky toys, and a sponge. He’d managed to digest or poop out all of it.
David had a vague memory of putting the socks in the bathroom hamper, and he shut the door pretty much automatically to keep Diogee from slurping up toilet water. It didn’t seem like Diogee would have gotten at them. But they were missing. He looked at Diogee again. “Did you eat two socks?” Diogee wagged his tail harder.
“Damn it.” David took out his cell and called the vet. He gave Becky, one of the techs, the rundown.
“Just keep an eye on him. As long as he’s eating and drinking and isn’t lethargic, you don’t need to bring him in,” Becky told him. “I’ll call you later to see how he’s doing,” she added.
“You don’t have to do that,” he told her.
“All part of the service,” she said before she hung up.
She’d sounded friendly. She was always friendly. But she’d sounded extra-friendly.
Because you’re a good customer, David told himself. Diogee had had more than his share of vet visits, including three for getting sprayed in the face by a skunk. Most dogs would have learned their lesson the first time. Or the second. Not Diogee.
But Becky had sounded maybe even more than friendly. Maybe flirty. Had she always been like that? Could Lucy be right? Was he more ready to—move on wasn’t the phrase he wanted. Was he more ready to go out with a new woman than he realized? Was that why he was suddenly noticing Becky’s flirty tone? Was that why he’d started up that conversation with the cute woman in the pet store? Was that why he was having the sudden grief attacks, because he felt guilty or something?
That was way too many questions. Too much introspection was dangerous.
“You want to go for a walk?” David asked his dog. Diogee bolted toward the box that held all his stuff. He grabbed the leash and raced back. “Not too lethargic,” David said as he clipped on the leash. Once Diogee had dragged him outside, David decided to steer him over to Ruby’s. He was going to prove to himself that he could look at her house without having a meltdown.
He wasn’t surprised to find Ruby outside. She had the ladder out and was adding white flocking to the trees in her yard. Even the palms got treated. Decorating her place was a days-long process.
“Looks good,” David called. He didn’t feel grief cut into him the way it had when he’d seen the house with Zachary, maybe because this time he was prepared.
“Hey, thanks.” Ruby scrambled off the ladder. He heard a soft jingling and realized she wore curly-toed elf shoes with bells on the tips. She liked to decorate herself, too. Clarissa always said she admired how Ruby made everything an event. “Did the kid get off to school all right?” she asked. She walked over and Diogee dropped to the ground and rolled onto his back, legs waving. Ruby sat down next to the dog and started scratching his tummy.
“Yeah, I saw Zachary leave. Nobody will be able to tell he tried to dig a hole through his forehead,” David answered.
“That had to hurt. I can’t believe he didn’t stop before it got that bad,” Ruby said, still scratching.
“Any day I’m expecting his mom to ask me to give him The Talk.” David shook his head at Diogee, who had entered a blissed-out trance.
Ruby laughed. “Tell her to do what my parents did and leave a copy of Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Sex on the bookshelf.”
“That’s all you got?” David asked.
“It was plenty. In fact, it really was everything I wanted to know, plus some I didn’t,” Ruby said. “You want to come in? I’m trying out a new recipe for Italian sprinkle cookies.”
“I’ve never made them. They’re the ones you have to dip in glaze, then let dry for hours, right?”
“Those are the ones,” Ruby said. “They’re just now ready to eat.”
At the word “eat,” Diogee’s eyes snapped open and he leapt to his feet. “I thought he might have swallowed at least one sock, but if he did, he’s not supposed to be interested in food. So, I’m thinking he’s okay.”
“He’s interested enough to drool.” Ruby stood and backed up until her elf slippers weren’t in danger of getting splashed with saliva. She led the way up to the house.
“Is the pony a work in progress?” David asked. The small plastic pink-and-purple horse didn’t look Christmas-ified.
“It just showed up on my doormat this morning,” Ruby answered. She picked the pony up. “I thought maybe somebody left it as a contribution. I’m sure I can think up something to do with it. Maybe I’ll create an Island of Misfit Toys.” She ran her fingers through the pony’s purple nylon mane, which had been cut at different lengths, then tapped the chip in one of its hoofs. “Nah, I can’t do it. This isn’t a misfit. Somebody just loved it really hard. I’ll come up with something special.”
“Tootsie Pop, I’m going to need you to put the pony down and take two large steps back.”
David knew it was Hud before he looked over at the man. His fake Southern drawl was one of a kind. Diogee’s tail began whipping against David’s leg. The dog loved everybody, and expected to be loved back, even though Hud always ignored him.
“This?” Ruby asked, holding up the plastic horse.
Hud crossed the small lawn and pulled a piece of paper out of one of the dozens of pockets in his fishing vest. He unfolded it and held it up so Ruby and David could see it. It was a crayon drawing of a couple pink and purple blobs with four lines coming off them. “Are you trying to tell me the pony you’re holding isn’t the same one in this picture?”
David wrapped Diogee’s leash around his hand a few times. The dog was giving a high whine of excitement. David knew Diogee was sure any second Hud would acknowledge him, maybe scratch his head. Hud didn’t even give Diogee a glance.
“It could be,” Ruby said, looking at the drawing. “But it could be a lot of things.”
“So, you’re going to do this the hard way.” Hud sounded pleased.
“Hud, we don’t know what you’re talking about,” David told him.
“What I’m talking about is a little girl with a broken heart. What I’m talking about is a thief with no heart at all,” Hud answered.
David exchanged a “huh” glance with Ruby. “Still don’t know what you’re talking about, Hud.”
“You might not, Sports Fan,” Hud said to David. “I’ll have to think on that. But your friend here does. She’s trying to deny it, but she knows she’s holding stolen property. That pony belongs to Miss Riley Brewer of Neverland Way.”
“I found it on my doormat this morning,” Ruby said. “I thought maybe someone left it for me to use as a Christmas decoration.” She handed him the pony.
Hud studied her for a long moment. “I can’t prove any different.” He let out a sigh. “You’ve got to hook ’em to cook ’em, and it seems you slipped off the hook. This time.” He stuck the pony in the biggest of the vest’s pockets, and walked away. Diogee gave a barrage of barks, but Hud didn’t look back.
Ruby reached over and gave Diogee’s head a consoling rub. “I’ve known some method actors. But he’s the first I’ve met who is still staying in character years after the part’s over.”
“I wonder how that toy got all the way over here. The Brewers live over by my place,” David said. A connection clicked in his head. “And the pony must be Paula. I heard Riley yelling for Paula this morning.”
“Me, too, and I saw her and her big sister. She was crying like she’d lost her best friend. Which I guess she had. I knew the pony had been loved hard. Maybe I�
��ll make a little barn for it. Someplace for her to keep it so it won’t get lost again. Or is that too crazy old neighbor lady? I don’t know them more than to say hello to.”
“She’d love it.” David wondered if Ruby regretted not having had kids. Clarissa had said something once that made it sound as if she’d wanted them.
Ruby’s like me, he decided. She had good friends. She liked her job. She had her hobbies, like the Christmas decorating. And it seemed like it was working for her. It seemed like it was enough.
* * *
Mac sat on the foot of the young one’s bed, his chest and belly vibrating as he purred. His message had been understood. He could smell the woman on the toy the girl clutched to her chest as she slept. The connection had been made.
He padded up to the toy and softly batted the bell on the ribbon tied around the plastic pony’s neck. The soft jingling made him purr louder, so loudly he could feel it in his entire body now. Mission accomplished.
He watched the girl for another few moments. He would have enjoyed staying there longer, savoring his success, but Jamie needed more help. Or maybe he was wrong about her packmate. Mac understood a lot about his human, but she still baffled him at times. Like the way she slept. She didn’t sleep nearly enough, and she slept at night. Why hadn’t she figured out that night was the best playtime?
Maybe there was something about the gifts he’d brought her that she didn’t like. Something he’d never think of. Maybe there was something in their smell that made her nose burn the way the spray she used in the sink did his. There were other lonely-smelling people around Mac was sure could use a packmate, especially one like Jamie. She really didn’t have too many bad habits. Tonight he’d collect smells from several possibilities. He wouldn’t stop until he found her one that she understood, the way the woman had understood the smell of the little one’s need on the pony Mac had brought her.
He sprang from the bed to the windowsill and shimmied out the window. As soon as he took a breath, he knew the bonehead was outside. Before he got down to the night’s mission, he decided to have a little fun. Running up that bonehead’s back had been even better than playing with Mousie. Mack wanted to play with him again.
