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“Oh yeah? What do you have in mind, Scrabble?”
“Yep. We have the checkers club meeting coming up in exactly six days, so I think we should brush up on the rules of Scrabble.”
“Makes perfect logical sense,” she teases, knocking against me as we head for the door.
I let her exit the bedroom first. Before I follow her down the stairs, I take one more look at my cat and her doggy friend. Reunited at last.
Like me and Maddison.
Maddie’s right. Screwing up again would be devastating. A friendship like the one we have—it’s rare. Special. Valuable.
I mean it, what I promised her.
We won’t mess up this time around.
Chapter 12
Maddison
There are five checkers left on the board.
Two are mine, three are Nick’s.
It’s our second game of the night. I won the first, so if this one goes to him, we might have to play a tiebreaker.
I’d be fine with that.
Outlaw’s still upstairs cuddling with Nick’s cat, and our dinner dishes are piled in Nick’s sink. That moon-shaped casserole dish is now his problem.
I told him that before we started to play. I cooked, so he cleans.
A plate of chocolate chip cookies is off to one side of us, along with our twin mugs of orange mandarin herbal tea. I reach for my mug and take a sip as Nick ponders his next move.
“Sometime tonight would be good, Doctor Doom.”
“I should not have told you that.”
“I think I’m going to order you a custom bumper sticker.”
“If you do, I’ll order one for you, too.” He rests his index finger on one of his red pieces and slides it diagonally.
“Oh yeah? What would it say?”
“Honk if you like purple eyeglasses.”
“Nice. I bet I’d get hundreds of honks, every outing.”
Nick lifts his tea and takes a sip. “Hey, how’s your grandpa doing lately? Those thyroid pills should be helping him have a little more energy.”
“Ha. Not falling into your trap.” I push one of my checkers away from his. “You think I’m gonna let you get me talking so you can win? Not a chance, buddy.”
“Have you met Fredricka yet? She lives right down the street. She and her husband go down to the Florida Keys this time of year, but she’ll be back any day now. She’s talkative and nosy, and she’s going to want to know all about why you’re here staying at Pansy’s.”
“Look at me—not getting roped into your chitchat.”
He chuckles. “How’s Roxie doing? Is she going to be there on Friday, for the first dinner club meeting?”
“It’s not work-iiiing…” I tell him in a singsong voice, as I evade yet another of his pursuing checkers.
