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The puppy turns his head between outside and inside, apparently confused as to who to follow.
His bark sounds an awful lot like his new master as he runs out the door.
I think about running after my keys but something about Mr. Slate screams danger. I don’t think Edna would’ve sent me to a serial killer but still, who knows. They say it’s the quiet ones you need to worry about.
I chuckle to myself. Well, hell, he wasn’t all too quiet while he was banging on my door. Still, I wouldn’t want to cross him and he’s definitely not a guy to argue with in the middle of the night.
I push the suitcase to the floor and lay down on top of the comforter, tossing and turning, wishing he hadn’t stolen my sheet. At one point in the night, I remember I didn’t lock the door and almost get up.
Seriously? With his alarms?
Knowing he’s watching makes me feel strangely safe.
Sleep does finally come but it’s full of weird dreams and too soon I wake, just before dawn. I glance over at the main house where Mr. Sexy types, his skin lit blue by his computer monitor. Must be he couldn’t sleep, either.
For the first time since ‘The Incident’ I turn over and drop into a deep. dreamless sleep. When I wake again, the sun is high, and I have a caffeine headache. Damn it. I grab a couple acetaminophen pills out of my purse and gag them down with a glass of warm water.
After, I find a kettle and some instant coffee, the most important part of the day. In minutes, heavenly java is steaming in my mug. I search the empty fridge and cupboards for cream or sweetener.
Whatever. Black it is.
Once caffeinated, I pick up my phone, push dial and let my breath out in a long stream.
Hopefully, Edna will find some other dog-walking jobs. I know none will have the house included but I’ll deal. The worst part will be sleeping in my car, but it can’t be helped. After this final class at Columbia, I’ll be all caught up.
Outside, some cardinal warbles, looking for a mate.Good luck with that.
“Hello? Mrs. Weinstein?”
“Just a second. Is this Lila?”
I don’t bother to correct her. It’s Lilac, like the flower, but nobody ever gets it right. “Yes, Mrs. Weinstein, it’s me.”
“Did you get settled in all right last night?” In the background, her three beagles bay, almost drowning her out.
I shout into the phone, “Well, actually, that’s why I’m calling. Mr. Slate was not aware I would be staying in the guest house. He was actually quite annoyed.”
I leave out the part about the gun and mace.
“Oh dear. Just a sec.” It sounds as if she’s covering the mouthpiece of her phone but not successfully. “Mother? Are you there?”
An elderly woman responds like the teacher in the Charlie Brown specials. “Wa Wahhhh.”
Mrs. Weinstein seems to understand fully and continues to converse as if I wasn’t on the other end of the phone. “Didn’t you inform Mr. Slate we got him a walker? Okay… Yes… Okay.”
She speaks again and I guess she’s addressing me, now. “Don’t go anywhere, dearie. I’m coming right over. Bye now.”
My cell phone indicates she hung up and I shake my head. Where the hell can I go? Mr. Sexy-Abs took my keys. I suppose I could just demand them back but something about going over to his house and knocking on his door is too much this morning. I need a hell of a lot more coffee to deal.
Not only that, unlike last night, my thoughts are clear and I’m in no hurry to go. The hundred bucks in my wallet won’t take me too far, especially when you consider my credit cards are maxed.
Chapter 3
Slate
Edna Weinstein’s muffler announces her arrival long before she turns into my drive. That’s why I’m waiting by my door as she parks in my paving-stone circle. When all five feet of her jump out of the car, I can’t help but note how her powder blue hair matches her Mercedes. She must be eighty which would make her mother over a hundred. Together, they’ve cornered the market on dog walkers or so I learned since becoming a foster puppy-parent.
After brushing the wrinkles out of her Hawaiian pantsuit, she uses her hand for a sun visor and squints up the steps. “Alexander James Slate. What did you say to that poor girl?”
