Linny's Sweet Dream List

by Susan Schild

  Linny paused for a moment, just an inch away from stretching the truth. The one time she’d worked with Sales and Marketing had been an unmitigated disaster. Her face flamed, and she just told the truth. “I have worked with Sales and Marketing, and I wasn’t good at it. They just aren’t my people.”

  Miriam cocked her head, and her mouth twitched. “Your people?”

  Linny sighed inwardly. So long to that job. “Engineers and technical professionals are my people. I like them, I get them, and they seem to know it.”

  The woman looked gave her a shrewd look. “I heard high praise about your work at Kipling a while back when you did teamwork training for a company I used to work for, but I need a consultant for this project who specializes in working with Sales and Marketing . . .”

  Linny stopped listening for a second, plummeting down the rabbit hole of self-doubt, and mocking herself for even thinking she was qualified to be an independent-management-consultant-trainer type person. She tuned back in just as Miriam said, “I like you, Linny. I want you to do some work with ‘your people’ at our organization later on in the summer. Call me next month, and we’ll meet and get the training on the books.”

  Linny tried to plaster on a cool professional smile, like she was used to getting jobs all the time, but was so overjoyed at the good news, she was afraid she’d cry.

  Miriam rose and shook her hand. “I’ll also keep you in mind when I hear of other folks who need trainers for ‘your people.’ ” She made the air quotes, and her mouth turned up. “Send me your contact info.”

  “I will,” Linny nodded briskly and tried to look like she had a blazing hot web presence, ten thousand Twitter followers, and a blog that got read by all the NASDAQ CEO’s. “Thank you.” Resisting the urge to kiss the woman or jump in the air and try to click her heels together, she gave the woman a bright smile, and scurried down the hall.

  On the way home, she replayed the meeting in her head and beamed, feeling giddy, effervescent, young. She was dying to call someone who loved her and tell them the news, but Kate was at a teacher’s planning day, Mary Catherine was in court, and Mama was with some church friends visiting an arboretum in Wilmington.

  Linny wiped perspiration from her brow, and noticed that she was roasting. When she cranked up the air conditioning, warm air rushed out of the vent, and she groaned. The A/C had finally died. Dang. That would take a cool grand to fix, she’d bet. She rolled down all the windows, but all the air coming in was humid.

  After slowing to round a curve, she accelerated, but the car did not respond. Slowly, the Volvo coughed, chugged, and lost power. Fighting a panicky feeling, Linny’s eyes darted to the dashboard. The gas gauge registered one quarter tank, just like it always did. It had been broken when she bought the car, so she used the odometer to keep up with miles driven and always remembered to keep the car fueled up. But her mind scrambling, she tried to remember the last time she’d been to a gas station. Could she have let herself run out of gas? The car sputtered and died.

  She steered the car toward a grassy strip beside the road, and it coasted to a stop. Leaning back on the head rest, Linny put her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes. A plan. She needed a plan. Glancing at the AAA sticker on her windshield, she kicked herself again. That membership had lapsed last month and she’d felt too poor to renew it. Reaching down to the seat beside her, Linny scrabbled in her purse for her phone. Scrolling down her contacts, her mind raced. No one was home. She called Jerry, but he didn’t pick up. After sending him a text, she glanced up and looked around. Walk. She’d walk. Home couldn’t be that far away.

  CHAPTER 8

  Running on Fumes

  Slinging her purse on her arm, she locked the car, took a breath and started down the side of the road. Heat radiated off the asphalt in waves. Her blouse clung to her chest and her slacks were damp around the waistband.

  As she puffed up a rise in the road, her foot slipped from her faux crocodile loafer. Circling back unevenly while trying to keep her stockinged foot from the hot road, she saw the heel that had fallen off, so she reached down and slipped it in her pocket. Slipping on her heel-less loafer, she walked crookedly down the road, cheering herself up by mentally shoe shopping with all the money she’d earn during the training later that summer.

  Linny heard an engine rumble. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a truck approaching, and her heart pounded as she realized just how vulnerable she was. She squared her shoulders and tried to change her uneven walk to the purposeful stride of female black belt out for a stroll. As she heard the truck slow, she entered 9-1 on her phone and kept a finger poised on the next 1 as her eyes darted around, looking for the best route to run through the fields if the driver was a murderer. She walked faster, her back to the truck.

  “Wait up,” a man’s voice called. “You all right, Linny?”

  Startled, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Jack Avery’s handsome head leaning out the window of his red truck. Linny felt weak with relief. She slipped her phone into her purse and gave him a grateful smile, until she got a mental picture of foxy Velvet/Bunny smiling seductively up at Jack. “I’m fine,” she said stiffly, and turned to walk on.

  His voice was firm. “You don’t look fine. Let me give you a lift.”

  “It’s okay. I need the exercise.” She flushed, realizing how crazy she sounded. Yup. She was just working out wearing business clothes in one-hundred-degree heat.

  “Get in, Linny.” He pulled the truck onto the shoulder, pulled open the passenger door, and stood beside it, hand on his hip. His face told her he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “It’s hot, girl. Get in.”

  She wavered, but her good sense won out over her stubbornness. Climbing up into the blessed cool of the cab, she held on to her outrage about Velvet/Bunny and could not make eye contact with him. “Thank you,” she said stiffly.

  Jack swung up into his seat, and glanced at her, silent for a moment. “Car trouble?”

  She nodded, still not looking at him. “I ran out of gas.” Sighing, she admitted, “The gas gauge is broken, the air conditioning went out and I don’t have the money to get either fixed.”

  “Gotcha. Car trouble and money trouble.” Jack nodded and looked out the window thoughtfully. After a moment, he asked, “Did you lose your job?”

  “I did. I got let go.” She gave him a sidelong glance, to check for any disdain or pity, but saw none.

  He regarded her, a serious expression on his face. “Well, it just wasn’t the job for you. Something better will come along.”

  Brightening, Linny felt a trace of the buoyancy she’d felt right before she ran out of gas. “Something has.” She told Jack about her meeting with Miriam. “She said she wants me to work with one of her groups later this year.”

  “Good.” He nodded encouragingly. “I’ve had work ups and downs. The rough spots ended up being catalysts.”

  She blew out an exhale. He didn’t know the full extent of her run of bad luck and dodgy decision making, so it really wasn’t the same. But still, it was sweet of him to offer up his failures. But Linny’s eyes narrowed as she remembered what she’d seen at the restaurant. He wasn’t sweet. He cheated on his wife. Linny felt the build-up of a good head of righteous indignation and shot him a chiding look. He seemed oblivious. It wasn’t her job to be the moral police. She sniffed. It occurred to her that he’d happened upon her miles from his office. “What are you doing out here near my road?”

  “Dropping a couple of Rhode Island reds off at Margaret’s place. She’s adding to her brood.”

  She nodded.

  “Now here’s what we’re going to do.” He pulled back onto the blacktop. “I’m going to drop you back at your house for a couple minutes, give you a chance to cool off. I’ll go get you some gas, swing back by and pick you up, and we’ll get you squared away.” He slowed as they neared Margaret’s house. “Which driveway is yours?”

  Catching herself warming at the “we,” she reminded herself
that she hardly knew the man, and that he appeared to be another Cassanova. No way she’d let him see the trailer. Hurriedly, she pointed to the red mailbox, and unsnapped her seatbelt. “This is the turn. No need to drive me all the way in. You can just drop me off.”

  He gave a perplexed half-frown as he pulled in. “Let me take you to the door, Linny. It’s one hundred degrees.”

  “But, but . . .” Linny couldn’t think of a way to head him off. There was no fixing it. Defeated, she slumped in her seat and watched his expression as he pulled in her driveway and took in the aqua trailer.

  His eyes widened slightly and he turned to her for confirmation. “Is this it?”

  “It is,” she said crisply, trying to hide her embarrassment. Now he knew she wasn’t installing granite countertops and adding soaking tubs in a darling yuppie cottage. “Not quite what you were expecting?” she added, in a challenging tone.

  “Not exactly,” he grinned sheepishly. “Even in your ‘too sexy’ shirt, there’s something about you that doesn’t call to mind a mobile home.”

  Bristling, she watched him warily. Even she was shocked that she lived where she did, but she couldn’t bear to hear any judgment from him.

  “All through vet school, I lived in a mobile home out in the country. I liked it. Kept it ship-shape. Had horses for neighbors, and apple trees.” He rubbed his chin and looked reflective. “I also ran a pet-sitting service, and did some bartending. Did what I needed to do to pay the bills. No shame in that.”

  Her anger receded as fast as it’d come up. Her high shoulders dropped, and she was struck again by his astonishing green eyes. He was a lovely looking man, and he’d said just the right thing. She sighed inwardly.

  A black van with gold lettering that read, ‘Flowers by Morgan’ crunched in behind them. Linny watched the driver put down his phone, wave, and hop nimbly from the van.

  Jack rolled down the window, and a dapper-looking man approached, calling out, “Hi, folks. I got turned around, but dispatch says I’m at the right address.” He glanced down at the screen on his iPad. “I’ve got a flower delivery for Linny Taylor.”

  Who in the world was sending her flowers? Linny said, “That’s me.” She opened her door, and stepped down from the truck.

  The smiling man trotted back to the van, and handed her a vase full of colorful daisies, lilies, and carnations. With a friendly toot of the horn, he pulled away.

  Jack leaned his arm on the open window, and sounding amused, called to her, “Are these from your date, that pretty boy I saw you with last night?”

  “He was a friend, not a date,” she responded tartly. She thought about Velvet/Bunny, and shot him a meaningful look. “And how was your date?”

  He looked puzzled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Of course he didn’t. Buck had used that same confused look when she’d questioned him about a credit card charge to Freida’s Frisky Boutique. He’d sworn he’d bought lingerie for her as a surprise and that it was being delivered by UPS. Her blood pressure rose as she recalled Buck’s pained, you-don’t-trust-me speech that left her feeling guilty. For weeks after apologizing to him, Linny had watched out the window for the brown truck, but the lingerie never arrived. She said coolly, “I appreciate your help, but I’ll take care of the car. You’ve already done enough.” Clutching the flowers, she gave a wave, turned and walked toward the house.

  After a cool shower, and a reassuring snuggle with Roy, Linny sat at the kitchen table sipping ice water while listening for Jerry’s truck. When she’d called and asked him for help, he’d been so gracious. Her brother-in-law was a genuinely nice man, unlike the vet. She felt a flash of irritation at herself for having spilled the beans about her money problems. Rubbing her eyes with her fingers, she exhaled loudly. The mystery was why she continued to be attracted to him. She probably needed to find another veterinarian. Get the man out of her system.

  And here was another man mystery, she thought, picking up the vellum card that had been tucked in the flowers and rereading it.

  Thanks for last night. Looking forward to our friendship and, hopefully, more.

  Craig.

  Her bushy-bearded brother-in-law poured in the last of the gas, cranked the engine, and grinned as it caught. “All set, Linny Belle.”

  “Thanks again, buddy.” As he stepped out of the car, she gave him a quick hug. “You’re so good to help me. I know how busy you are.”

  He leaned down twelve inches to buss the top of her head. “Never too busy when family needs you. That’s what family is for,” he said firmly. “Call whenever you need help. If I can’t make it, I’ll send one of my men.” He gave her a teasing grin. “Long as you don’t mind riding around with a young and crazy farmer in a four-by-four, playing Toby Keith real loud.”

  “I long for that,” she assured him. She gave a wave as he rumbled off. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a rock steady man like Jerry in her life?

  Midday Friday, she was riding shotgun in the Honda on the way to a yet-to-be-disclosed location. Kate was being very mysterious. All Linny knew was that they were shopping for gag gifts for Jerry’s surprise birthday party Sunday night. “Fill me in. Tell me first how the job meeting went.” Kate gave her an encouraging look.

  Linny felt thrilled as she gave her the details of the meeting with Miriam, and ended with the story of her car troubles.

  Kate gave a low whistle. “What a day. The independent trainer idea is a great one, and I just have a strong feeling it’s a good fit for you.”

  Linny gave a crooked grin, and felt even more hopeful about her new work path.

  A speculative tone came into Kate’s voice. “So Jack Avery keeps turning up. I really like that man. Too bad he’s married.” She glanced over. “And Craig sent you flowers . . . I like that man, too. Do you?” she asked hopefully.

  “He’s nice enough. I don’t know.” Linny sighed and looked out of the window. “I didn’t feel any chemistry with him.”

  “Give him a second chance. Maybe he was just nervous.” Kate warmed to her subject. “I read in one of those online surveys that almost one third of women don’t feel chemistry on their first date with the men they end up falling in love with and marrying.”

  “Maybe,” she said, doubtfully. But she’d felt chemistry with Jack. She sighed. It figured.

  “We’re here.” Her sister beamed as she wheeled into the parking lot. The sign atop the store read SPCA THRIFT SHOP. “Let’s go find Jerry some birthday outfits.”

  Linny eyed the exterior, cluttered with mismatched wooden chairs, baby cribs, and cheap, chipped laminated desks. She had a sinking feeling. Had she hit a new low? Was she turning into her yard sale-ing mother? What was next—dumpster diving?

  Kate read her mind. “You can find treasures in the midst of junk, Linny.”

  Linny shook her head. “Don’t you think it’s disgusting to wear clothes that other people—probably dead people—have worn?”

  Her sister put the car in park, and turned to her. “You recycle, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” she said indignantly.

  “Well, this is just a form of recycling. Plus, the money goes to a good cause.”

  Linny’s nod was grudging, but she followed her sister inside and, after a few minutes, got absorbed in choosing between two twenty-five-cent ties made of 100 percent polyester—a wide maroon one with wildly spinning dice, and a beige number with a pattern of free-floating gold saxophones and musical notes.

  Kate held up a pair of men’s yellow polyester bell-bottom trousers with a Sansabelt waist. “Bingo!” She placed them in the plastic basket on her arm.

  “So good looking,” Linny said, and resumed her examination of a Western-style shirt with a tumbleweed print. “I hope we can pull off the surprise part of this party.”

  “It’s hard, because he snoops,” Kate groused. “But having it a whole week early and on a Sunday should throw him off the scent.”

  “I hope so.” The thought of a
party gave her a happy buzz of anticipation. Fingering the cool beaded crewelwork on the lapel of a vintage sweater, she pictured a glamorous cocktail party in a Soho loft, with “Girl from Ipanema” playing on the hi-fi, and handsome men dressed sharp—like Sammy Davis Junior—drinking Sidecars.

  Kate interrupted the party. “That’s cashmere, you know.”

  Linny took a closer look at the sweater she held, ran her fingers down the buttery soft sleeve, and glanced up at the price list. Could this be right? “This is only a dollar?”

  She grinned. “I told you. This is the nicest thrift store of all of them. I get some of my work clothes here, and they’re from stores like Orvis and L.L. Bean.”

  “Wow.” Linny slipped the sweater in her basket. “I’m starting to get thrift stores.” Spying a fedora on a free-standing rack, Linny was instantly back at the imaginary cool cat party with Sammy. “This party will be a cool little shindig.”

  Kate gave her a bemused smile, and a moment later, whooped as she held aloft a pair of men’s patent leather, two-toned saddle shoes.

  “Oh, my,” Linny admired. Then she struck gold, handing her sister a Daniel Boone coonskin hat with bushy tail intact, and a wedge-shaped driving cap in a loud plaid.

  Kate studied the caps, looking as serious as an IRS auditor. “These two give him options. The coonskin is for casual wear and the driving cap is for . . . sportier occasions.”

  A few minutes later, Kate pulled out of the parking lot.

  Linny grinned. “Where to next, my captain?”

  “Earth and Sea,” Kate announced.

  “Oh, yum.” She still had fond thoughts about that sunflower bread sandwich Kate had brought her. “You know, I met Lil at the potluck. I liked her.”