“See that gray trailer, with the brown door? The one with the rickety porch?” I pointed.
Jack hummed a yes.
“That’s where Vera and I grew up. Man, I had a lot of good times in that place.” Between the jasmine vine growing over the arch of the back gate to the two windows on the side—where Vera and I had our bedroom—just seeing the house made my heart swell with memories.
“Don’t kill yourself, girls,” Dad would yell, as we’d pop wheelies on our bikes in the street. “You’re of no use to me dead!”
Of course, he’d been the one who taught us how to do a wheelie on our bikes. We were fully free-range kids. Driving past the house made me miss my father and his eccentric ways desperately, and I could almost see him standing on the porch, watching me and Vera race up and down the street on our bikes.
“I’ll bet this was a great place to grow up.” Jack’s deep voice brought me back to the present.
“It was. There used to be an old pharmacy with an authentic soda fountain counter, and we’d walk over for root beer floats. And we’d ride over to the creek and catch frogs. It was idyllic. Oh, turn left. It’s a shortcut to Dave’s street.”
A few minutes later, we pulled up to the front of the home, which was a large two-story bungalow. I stared at it for a beat. “I think my third-grade teacher used to live here. She was arrested years later for insurance fraud.”
“Florida.” Jack shook his head.
Like the other houses in the area, it was landscaped with a lush green lawn in the front, a squat palm tree, and a neatly trimmed hedge near the porch. We made our way up the walkway and rang the old-fashioned brass doorbell. A cacophony of barking dogs followed.
“C-A-T,” I whispered to Jack, who put his finger to his lips.
An older man wearing a lime-green polo shirt and khaki pants greeted us.
“You the folks who called earlier?” he said with a smile.
“We are. Pleased to meet you.” Jack gave the man his name and the two shook hands. “This is my girlfriend, Margaret.”
I stared at Jack adoringly. He blew me a kiss, which made me giggle, but also sent a little whoosh of desire through me. This fake relationship thing was going pretty well, in my opinion.
Dave looked at our feet and behind our shoulders, at the Prius next to the curb. “Where’s your furry friend?”
“Oh, we wanted to talk first. Like a consultation,” I said.
“Of course. That makes it a lot easier sometimes, especially if the animal is poorly behaved. C’mon in. We’ll sit in my office.”
I thought back to the first visit to the veterinarian with Catsy, when she’d received her first kitten checkup. She went so wild that they had to subdue her in a net and then give her a mild tranquilizer before the vaccinations.
Dave led us to a small office, and along the way I caught sight of various rooms, dog snouts, and wagging tails, all held back by a maze of baby gates. The barking hit a crescendo as we passed by what looked like a puppy kindergarten filled with plush toys and tiny dogs.
“As you can see, my husband and I keep things quite secure here. We also have a fenced-in yard, and a doggie door. But we don’t allow them to go outside unsupervised. We specialize in small dogs for boarding, but I train dogs of all sizes.”
“Very nice,” Jack said.
We went into a room with built-in floor-to-ceiling bookcases on two walls that were packed with books, and windows looking out at a tranquil rock garden and fountain. I nearly swooned. If I had a dog, I’d definitely bring it to Dave for daycare on the basis of his good taste in library decor.
“What a beautiful office. Love the bookcases.” I eased onto a tufted brown leather sofa. Jack plopped next to me. My hand skimmed the cool leather, and Jack put his hand over mine.
Pleasurable prickles went up my arm.
Dave sat in a chair and reached for a notebook and a pen on a dark wood coffee table that matched the bookshelves.
“Thank you. So, tell me about your fur baby.”
I cleared my throat. “Well, Catsy—”
“Is that her name? Catsy?” Dave wrote it at the top of the page.
“Yes.”
