Lara shook her head. “My mom.”
“How’s that going?”
She bristled at his tone. “Fine, actually. We’re bonding.”
“You? And your mother? Are bonding?”
“That’s right. I’m staying in her guest room until I find my own place. Somehow, I’ve become the neighborhood Dog Doyenne.”
He laughed. “What’s a Dog Doyenne?”
“Everything. You name it, I do it.” She finally turned to face him and chronicled some of her more colorful house calls.
He braced a hand on a lamppost and listened, really listened, his eyes locked on hers while she talked. They both laughed at the same places in the story.
“You should call that TV producer back and tell her you need your own show,” he said when she finished.
They inched closer together in the fading sunlight, smiling at each other. When a cool breeze blew Lara’s hair across her face, Evan reached out and brushed the strands back, his hand lingering on her cheek.
Her phone beeped and they jumped apart, startled and self-conscious.
“Ignore it,” she murmured.
But Evan cleared his throat. “Go ahead and answer it.”
She tucked the rest of her hair back behind her ear. “No, no. It can wait.”
“Lara, come on. It’s probably a new litter of pit bull puppies or a sheltie fresh out of surgery who popped a stitch or some other dog emergency.” He gave her a knowing look. “Am I getting warm?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to pick a fight?”
“No, I’m just telling you to live your life.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “You don’t have to feel guilty now. We broke up. You can do whatever you want.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“Then why do you look so pissed off?”
She wasn’t buying his bewildered-and-innocent act. “You sound very sure of what I’m doing these days. But what about you? What are you doing with all your free time?”
His face reddened. “Oh, you know, just working. Getting ready for midterms. The usual.”
She nodded. “You did a very thorough job of cleaning every last molecule of my belongings out of your house.”
He misinterpreted this as a compliment. “You’re welcome.”
“And you changed the locks.” She paused. “I take it you’re already interviewing replacement candidates?”
He stared at her. She stared back.
Slowly, carefully, he said, “Let’s not have this conversation.”
“Too late,” she informed him. “You didn’t hang up the phone the last time we talked.”
His horrified expression confirmed all her darkest suspicions. “What did you hear?”
“Enough to know that you either found someone else with lightning speed or you were cheating on me while we were still involved.” She crossed her arms. “So which is it?”
“You know I wouldn’t cheat on you.”
“No, I do not know that. I didn’t know that you were so angry with me. I didn’t know that you hate dogs. I didn’t really know you at all, apparently.”
He finally flinched. “Let’s just leave the dogs out of this, all right?”
“You said you loved me, Evan. You said you wanted to get married. How the hell can you go out and replace me just like that?” She snapped her fingers.
“You didn’t want me,” he pointed out. “You flushed my ring down the toilet.” He shoved his hand deeper into his pockets and addressed the gum wrapper at his feet. “So what do you care if I have someone new in my life? You want me to spend the rest of my life pining away, miserable without you?”
“No.” Yes. “Not forever, but how about a decent mourning period?”
His head jerked back up. “Maybe I’m not sad.”
“Well, maybe I’m not, either,” she shot back.
“Good.”
“Great.”
They both pivoted and went their separate ways, Lara unzipping her handbag as she went.
“Wait!” he called after her.
She slowed and turned around, cursing herself for the little spark of hope that kindled in her heart.
“Can I . . .” He raked his hands through his hair. “Can we . . .”
She looked him straight in the eye. “Before you finish that sentence, think about the ‘honey’ you already replaced me with.”
He froze, speechless and stricken. When he recovered his composure, he stammered, “I’m not . . .”
“Can’t finish that one, either?” She gave him one more moment before walking away. “Good-bye, Evan.”
She ransacked the purse’s pockets until she found the business card she’d tucked away a few days ago. When she arrived at the park, she tamped down all her rage and regret and dialed her phone with shaking fingers.
“Hi, Tim, it’s Lara. Listen, I’ve been thinking about your invitation, and I’d love to have dinner with you. How’s Saturday night?”
Chapter 24
“I have a date on Saturday,” Lara informed her mother as they drove to the grocery store for Justine’s second official public outing. “With a guy I met at a dog show last weekend.”
She could tell from her mother’s shallow breathing and tightly curled fingers that Justine was on the verge of a panic attack, and she hoped that opening up her love life for criticism would help distract her.
The ploy worked like a charm. As soon as Lara uttered the word date, Justine relaxed and shifted her focus.
“Oh, Lara, no. Now that you’re finally having some success with your training business, you’re going to derail yourself again with ‘love’ and ‘romance’?” Justine used one hand to make air quotes. “Did you learn nothing from your last relationship?”
“Please note that I didn’t say I was having a relationship on Saturday.” She wanted to keep her mother talking as they turned into the grocery store parking lot. “I’m not moving in with the guy I met at the dog show. I just have a date. A revenge date, actually.”
“What’s a revenge date?”
“It’s a prearranged social meeting with a hot guy to prove to your ex that you are able to upgrade and enjoy life to the fullest and are therefore winning while he is losing.”
“I see. Well, that certainly does sound promising.”
“Doesn’t it?” Lara unbuckled her seat belt. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Justine didn’t move. “I’m not ready for this.”
“Sure you are. We’re just running in for salad. It’s not like we’re going spend an hour restocking your pantry. We’ll be in and out in five minutes.”
“Tell you what—I’ll give you my order, and you can go in and make my salad for me.” Justine nodded toward the designer handbag tucked in the backseat. “Take my wallet. Whatever you need.”
“Nice try.” Instead of reaching for Justine’s bag, Lara plucked the keys out of the ignition and pocketed them. “But bribery’s not going to get you out of this. You made me go house hunting with you, so now you’re going salad shopping with me.”
“When did you get so pushy?” Justine checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror for the twentieth time, put on her sunglasses, wrapped an Italian silk scarf around her head, and opened the car door. “Be honest. How do I look?”
“Like a very glamorous international spy in desperate need of arugula and sliced radishes.”
Justine huddled behind Lara as they stepped into the clean, organic, fair-trade-certified, and exorbitantly expensive supermarket. They had timed the trip for midafternoon to avoid the lunch rush and the pre-dinner crowd. The produce aisles were practically deserted, except for a few young moms pushing toddlers in carts. Once Justine had ascertained that she was in no danger of being recognized, she took off her glasses and started unwinding her headscarf.
“Ooh.” Lara stopped to admire a display of exotic fruits. “Mangoes.”
Justine nudged her toward the salad bar at the far wall. “Move along. We’r
e not here to browse.”
Lara laughed. “This right here? This is how I got pushy.”
They collected their little plastic bowls and started spooning up lettuce, olives, and feta cheese. Justine used a pair of plastic tongs to inspect a slice of carrot, then wrinkled her nose and placed the wilted garnish back in its bin.
And that was when Lara noticed the man staring at her mother.
“Psst.” She sidled up to her mother.
Justine shooed her away. “Don’t crowd me, Lara. You’ll get your turn with the tofu soon enough.”
Lara kept right on nudging. “That guy over there is checking you out.”
“What?”
“Hot prospect, nine o’clock.”
Justine’s head shot up. “Where?”
“Don’t look!” Lara hissed. When Justine returned her attention to the produce, Lara murmured, “The guy over by the deli counter. With the leather jacket and the chiseled jawline.”
“That guy?” Justine’s sharp eyes swept over the man in a critical, two-second assessment. “He’s not tall enough for me.”
“He’s got to be six feet.”
“I prefer six-two or above.”
“You know, I used to wonder if anything would ever be good enough for you, ever. And now I have my answer: No.” Lara sucked in her breath as the guy made his way toward them. “He’s moving in. I’ll head over to the dairy aisle and let you two have a moment alone.”
Justine gasped. “Don’t you dare desert me. We had a deal!”
“Too late.” Lara darted off toward the Greek yogurt, flashing the guy an encouraging smile as she went.
Two minutes later, she heard the unmistakable click-clack of Justine’s high heels, and her mother rounded the corner holding a black-edged business card.
Lara clapped her hands together. “Well?”
Justine put her sunglasses back on. “His name is Dale, and he’s a lawyer who just bought a house in the neighborhood.”
“And he asked you out!” Her jubilation faded as she took in her mother’s expression. “Uh-oh. He didn’t ask you out?”
Justine whipped out her scarf and strode toward the exit. “He’s a personal injury attorney, Lara. And no, he didn’t ask me out. He wanted to know what happened to my face and if there’s someone we could sue.”
* * *
“Calm down, Mom. Let’s not overreact here.” Lara chased after Justine, through the garage and into the house. On the way to the kitchen, she opened the door to her bedroom and let the dogs out.
“I’m not overreacting.” Instead of stowing her handbag carefully in a closet, Justine tossed it onto the counter. “I’m merely making a call.”
“Who are you calling?” Lara asked, her eyes wide.
“The investment group in LA. I’m selling the salons.”
“Mom!”
“No, Lara, I’m done. When people are pulling you aside in the grocery store to ask who they can sue about your face, it’s time to get out of the beauty business.”
“This is insane. You can’t sell the salons.”
“Watch me.”
Lara opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of white wine, and poured two glasses. “But the salon is your life’s work. It’s your baby.”
“Was my baby.” Justine plucked a tissue out of the box and started wiping off lipstick. She accepted the wine Lara offered and drank deeply. “The management team is doing just fine without me. They don’t need me anymore.”
“You don’t have to decide this right away. Think it over. Twenty-four hours.”
Justine shot her a glare over the rim of her wineglass. “I don’t recall asking your opinion.”
Lara gave Linus a warning look as the big red dog placed one paw on the foyer floor. Chastened, he ducked his head and U-turned back into the kitchen. “I swear to you, Mom, your face really isn’t—”
“Save it, Lara. I know exactly how I look.”
Lara couldn’t think of anything more to say, so she reached over and covered her mother’s hand with her own.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t have made you go to the store.”
“Please.” Justine tossed her head. The glossy black strands of her wig gleamed under the kitchen lights. “You can’t make me do anything.”
“Yeah, but I got all pushy and told you to talk to Dale—”
Justine finally snapped. “This isn’t about a man. Don’t you see that?” She slammed her glass goblet down so hard, the base cracked. “Who cares about some random jackass at the supermarket? This is about me.” She pivoted and strode off toward her bedroom.
Lara called after her, “If you feel like talking later—”
“I won’t.”
“Okay, well, it’s your turn in Scrabble.”
Justine didn’t reply. She didn’t slam her bedroom door, either, but she closed it with such a firm, definitive click that Lara knew better than to go knocking.
Not ten seconds later, Lara heard an outraged scream from the master suite: “Why is this animal always on my bed?”
A quick head count of the dogs confirmed what she already knew: Mullet had slipped away and made herself comfortable in the other alpha bitch’s bed.
Lara waited, listening for the sound of the door opening and Mullet being forcibly evicted, but there was nothing.
She cleaned up the wineglass and took care of the household chores: wiping down the counters, bringing in the garbage and recycling containers from the curb, heating up the last batch of Shelly’s frozen soup for dinner.
At six thirty, there was a bark at the front door. Ivory had arrived to join everyone for a walk.
After a tiring three-mile trek up and down the narrow, hilly streets, Lara settled back on the sofa and maintained a vigil, waiting for any sign from Justine.
Finally, at ten o’clock, her phone buzzed.
Justine had made her move: TUNIC for a whopping forty-four points.
Sighing with relief, Lara studied her letter tiles and strategized her next word, knowing even as she did so that it was futile. Her mother was going to clobber her. Without a moment’s hesitation or a single shred of mercy.
All was right with the world.
* * *
“I’m in love,” Kerry gushed.
Lara put her cell phone on speaker and double-checked her directions to the restaurant. She was en route to her dinner date with Tim, and she’d answered Kerry’s call expecting tears, sleep deprivation, despair . . . pretty much anything except Kerry’s actual announcement.
“You are?”
“Totally, blissfully, head over heels in love.”
“Well, good for you.” It was so good to hear Kerry’s usual moxie back in her voice. “What happened? Did Richard come back early from his trip and whisk you away for a romantic weekend?”
“Oh, him?” Kerry asked, as if she could barely pick this Richard fellow out of a lineup. “No. He won’t be back till next week, but that doesn’t matter. I have everything I need right here.”
Lara turned right at a stoplight. “What’s going on? Do I have to remind you to stay away from the craigslist personal ads?”
Kerry laughed. “I’m in love with Cynthia. She’s perfect. Not to mention unlawfully cute. My sweet little girl is delectable.”
“Wow.” Lara whistled, impressed. “So those acid reflux meds finally kicked in, huh?”
“Yep. I think my hormones leveled out, too. I don’t know what happened, and I don’t care.” Kerry sounded strung out on either endorphins or illegal substances. “I feel like . . . Remember your first love in high school, how the feelings totally consumed you? You wanted to stay up all night talking and watch the sunrise and the euphoria was seriously like a drug?”
Lara tried to think past her recent romantic disaster in the Home Depot parking lot. “Vaguely.”
“Well, that’s what this is like. I am in love with this baby.”
“I’m so happy to hear you say that.”
&n
bsp; “Don’t get me wrong—I’m still tired and the house is a war zone and I may never wear a shirt without spit-up stains again, but somehow none of that matters anymore.” Kerry made a little noise that was half coo, half sigh. “I could watch her sleep for hours. Her little nose, her little fingers, and her cheeks, my God, her cheeks . . .”
Lara almost said, That’s just how I feel when I get a new puppy, but censored herself just in time. “Sounds like somebody’s bonding.”
“Like Super Glue.” Kerry stopped crooning and got down to business. “Listen, all that complaining I did, all the crying jags and crazy talk about moving to Mexico?”
“Yes?”
“None of that ever happened, okay? Erase the past few weeks from your mind.”
“Consider it erased.” Braking for a red light, Lara adjusted the rearview mirror and dabbed on an extra layer of lip gloss. She had let Justine style her—hair, makeup, and wardrobe—and she barely recognized her own glamorous reflection.
“Great. And by the way, you should totally go out and get knocked up. Motherhood is the best thing ever.”
“Now you’re scaring me. Are you going to show up on my doorstep, trying to convert me with informational literature from your Mommy and Me group?”
“Resistance is futile.” Kerry let out an evil little cackle.
“I’m going to have to call you back—I’m pulling up to the restaurant.”
“Wait—what restaurant?”
Lara grabbed her tin of breath mints out of the glove compartment. “That would be the restaurant where I’m meeting my date tonight.”
“Lara Madigan! You’ve been holding out on me!”
“How could my paltry first date possibly compete with you finding the true love of your life?” Lara provided a two-minute summary of meeting Tim as she maneuvered the station wagon past the valet stand and into one of the plebeian parking spots.
“Well, this guy sounds perfect.”
Lara made a face. “They always seem perfect in the beginning.”
“Okay there, Justine.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m just saying, keep an open mind.”
“I’ll try,” Lara promised as she turned off the car.
The Lucky Dog Matchmaking Service Page 19
