sure there’s someplace you and Mozart can stay the night,” she said.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Why am I the one who has to leave?”
Wasn’t it obvious? “Someone has to.”
They reached the landing and she headed toward her bedroom. The door was closed, which she didn’t remember doing. Maybe the wind had shut it.
“What are you doing?” he asked when she turned the doorknob.
“You told me to put my dog away.” They had just discussed this and he was acting totally weird. She pushed the door open.
“No, not in—”
Frank pushed past her and ran into the room, furiously barking.
“Frank!” Laura was shocked by her dog’s behavior—until she heard Mozart’s outraged yowl.
She caught a brief glimpse of smoke-colored fur disappearing under the bed. Frank crouched down and continued to bark at the cat.
In an instant, Laura and Spencer dropped to the floor, lying on their stomachs as they peered at the indignant cat.
“It’s okay, Mozart,” Spencer said in a soothing voice. “He’s not going to hurt you.”
“He doesn’t want to hurt her,” she said in a tight voice. “He just wants to play.”
“My cat doesn’t know that. Could you please just get your dog out of my room?”
If fire could have shot from her eyes, it surely would have at that moment. Furious, she got to her feet. “How is this your room?”
He also got to his feet, and she refused to be cowed by the fact that he was a full head taller than her. “I was here first.” He waved his hand toward a pile of suitcases so neatly stacked it could have rivaled the most skillfully engineered skyscraper. “See? My luggage.”
“Really? How about my luggage?” She pointed at her bags at the foot of the bed.
He blinked. “I thought that was laundry.”
Her big fabric duffel bag did mostly obscure the suitcase beneath it. But still...good grief, this guy really was the worst. There was no way she could talk any kind of sense into him, not when he was so pigheaded. “Come on, Frank.” She hooked her fingers into the dog’s collar and led him out the door. “Let’s go play with the squeaky squirrel.”
As she tugged Frank out into the hallway, she heard Spencer talking to Mozart. “Come on, Mozart,” he said in a calming voice. “It’s okay, kitty.”
She didn’t bother to hear the rest of it. Still holding on to Frank, she went down into the living room. She grabbed her dog’s favorite toy and used it to distract both Frank and herself. Fortunately, her pet didn’t have the best short-term memory because soon he was happily playing tug o’ war.
A laugh escaped her. No matter how rough things looked, she could always count on Frank to cheer her up. He entertained her so much she didn’t even glare at Spencer when he came back downstairs.
“This whole house mix-up thing doesn’t seem to be bothering you very much,” he said sourly.
She shrugged, glad that he couldn’t see how much he got under her skin. “Yeah, well, there’s nothing we can do about it right now. Que será, será.”
“Que será, será,” he said doubtfully.
“Whatever will be, will be.” She glanced at him. “Like the song. You know—”
“I know where it’s from,” he said in a snippy voice.
Her jaw firmed. “You don’t have to be rude.” She refused to look away or let him off the hook. He might be working toward a fancy graduate degree, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have some courtesy.
Finally, he nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s just, well, I like to plan. And I was planning to have some peace and quiet to get my work done.”
“This wasn’t exactly what I wanted when I rented the place, either,” she said, though she had to sympathize with his desire to focus. She needed some of that in her own life.
“You mean,” he said with a rueful smile, “when I rented the place.”
Oh, if he wanted to be charming… “Fine. You rented the place. I rented the place. So, what are we going to do about it?”
The front door opened and closed, and an attractive woman in her sixties stepped into the foyer. She was dressed in artfully stylish clothes and also wore an apologetic expression.
“Maybe I can help,” she said warmly.
Laura cautiously rose to her feet, alarmed by the presence of this stranger. She and Spencer faced the newcomer, almost as if they were a united front. “Hi,” she answered slowly. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ellen,” the woman explained. “Ellen Davis.” She spread her hands out. “I own the place.”
“Come in,” Laura said. Thank goodness someone was there to take care of the situation. She guided Ellen to the sofa, where they both sat. “We both filled out a questionnaire and a rental agreement, and we both booked the house for the same time. See?” She pulled her crumpled questionnaire from her pocket and motioned for Spencer to show his document to Ellen.
He took the sheet of paper from his briefcase and held it out to Ms. Davis. She slipped on a pair of reading glasses and examined the paper.
Spencer pulled out his cell phone. “I’m going to call hotels and see if they take pets.” He paced off, and she heard him talking briskly with someone on the other end.
Ellen winced apologetically. “When I got the text message from the rental company, I came over as soon as I could.”
Laura was quick to reassure her. “It’s probably just a computer glitch or something.”
“That must be it.” Ellen nodded. “But…” She grimaced. “The problem remains. I have two tenants, and only one house.”
“What about another rental?” Laura suggested.
Ellen shrugged. “I can put in a request for you, but we probably won’t hear anything until tomorrow.”
Spencer strode back into the room, his phone in his hand. “And none of the hotels in this town take pets,” he said with aggravation. “Dogs or cats.”
Laura’s heart sank. All she wanted was someplace quiet where she could be alone with her camera and her thoughts. A place where she might be able to make sense of the mess that was her life.
How could she do any of that with Professor Perfect breathing down her neck?
“What are we supposed to do?” she asked.
“Right, well, I’ll tell you what.” Ellen patted her hands on her
