Life According to Lucy. Cindi Myers

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don’t think she likes it,” Greg said.

      “Well, I do.” She scooped the dog into her arms. “From now on, I’m calling her Millie.”

      He glanced around the garden again. “I’ll have a crew out on Monday.”

      “Can’t you start today?”

      He shook his head. “I have other jobs. This is going to take some time.” Although he didn’t know how much time the roses had left.

      “What can I do to help?” she asked.

      “You can pull all the mulch away.” He gestured to the beds. “We’ll need to dig out everything, put in new soil, prune, spray, fertilize….”

      Her shoulders drooped and she cuddled Millie closer. “Uh, okay. I guess we’ll wait until Monday then.”

      He grinned. “I’ll see you then.”

      “Oh. Well, I’ll probably be at work.”

      He thought he did a pretty good job of hiding his disappointment. “Where do you work?”

      “Here and there.” She waved her hand in the air. “I’m between jobs right now, so I’m doing temp work until I find something in my field.”

      “That must be interesting.”

      “It’s not. Most of it bores me out of my mind, but it pays the bills. Some of them, anyway.” She glanced back toward the house. “It’ll be good for me to stay here a while, to, uh, help out my dad, you know.”

      “Yeah.” He’d moved back home the last few months of his father’s life. It had been a strangely disorienting experience, but one he didn’t regret.

      They stood there for a moment, alternately looking at each other and the half-dead garden. Even disheveled with no makeup, she was beautiful. She had short, spiky dark hair and big green eyes with long dark lashes and delicate features. Not a conventional beauty maybe, but she definitely stirred something in him.

      “Well…uh, I’d better let you be going,” she said finally. She took a step back toward the house. “See you around.”

      “Yeah. See you.”

      She let him out the back gate. He made himself walk to his truck without looking back, but he was sure he felt her gaze on him. When he reached the truck, he risked a glance in her direction. She was still there at the gate, the dog in her arms, a pensive look on her face, as if she was trying to figure him out.

      “Then that makes two of us,” he said softly, and climbed into the truck. If you come up with any answers, be sure to let me know.

      Lucy watched Greg drive off and waited for the overheated feeling inside her to vanish. She’d obviously been alone too long if an arrogant geek like Greg could make her all hot and bothered. With any luck she’d have a job on the other side of town Monday and she wouldn’t see him at all.

      She went back inside and found Dad gathering up his keys and wallet. “Dad, where are you going?”

      “I’m meeting a friend for brunch.”

      She sniffed the air. The distinct smell of Brut wafted over her. “The same friend you were with last night?”

      He grinned. “No, a different one.” He kissed her cheek. “See you later.”

      “Great, my dad has a better social life than I do.” Millie didn’t offer any sympathy this time. She was still staring after Lucy’s dad, a funny look on her face.

      Lucy decided to call shelters. Not that she really wanted anyone to claim Millie, but she figured she had to make an effort, in case the pup was some child’s dog. She didn’t want to be responsible for some kid crying herself to sleep every night for the next week.

      “Hello, Noah’s Ark? I have a poodle that wandered into my yard last night…. It’s a toy poodle, about fifteen pounds…Her hair is orange. Well, not really orange, sort of pinkish orange…. Oh, all right then, apricot…. No one’s reported a missing apricot toy poodle? Thank you.” She left her number, just in case, and moved on to the next listing.

      Six shelters and not one had a report of a missing apricot poodle. She set down the phone and smiled at Millie. “Well, girl, looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

      “Woof!”

      So now should she spend a Saturday morning home alone doing laundry, or should she try to scare up a little fun? As if the washing machine wouldn’t still be there tomorrow. She decided to do something productive—her nails. She was adding the second coat of Marvelous Mauve when the phone rang.

      “Hello?”

      “What are you doing answering the phone at your parents’ house? Is something wrong?”

      “Hello, Gloria.” She rolled her eyes. Gloria Alvarez was her oldest and dearest friend, and the one person who wouldn’t let her get away with anything. “Why are you calling my parents’ house?”

      “I called your number and got a recording that said it had been disconnected. Then I tried your cell and no one answered. I stopped by your place and there’s some old guy with no teeth sitting in your living room.”

      “It’s not my living room anymore.”

      “What? You got a roommate?”

      “No, I’ve been evicted.”

      “Evicted? Kopetsky did that to you? How dare he!”

      She smiled. That was Gloria for you. Ready to leap to a friend’s defense without a second thought. If Lucy let her, Gloria would be organizing a picket line to patrol the sidewalk in front of her old apartment and writing irate letters to the Houston Chronicle. “I think it had something to do with the fact that my rent checks kept bouncing.”

      “Oh.” A long silence while she pictured Gloria taking a slug on her extra-large chai with soy milk. “Listen, if you’re a little short right now, I could loan you—”

      “That’s okay. I appreciate it, but I’m doing okay. Really. I just need to keep track of things better.” And maybe cut down on shopping…but no, she’d catch up on everything as soon as she found a real job again.

      “So where are you living now? I’d offer you a place, but with Dennis and the girls there’s no room.” Dennis was Gloria’s boyfriend, a struggling comedian who supplemented his income by teaching at a comedy defensive driving school. The idea was, if people had to sit through eight hours of traffic laws and driving techniques, at least make it entertaining. Dennis might never have a future on stage, but his presentation of the top ten ways to avoid a traffic ticket had people rolling in the aisles. The girls were a pair of greyhounds Gloria adopted from a rescue organization. Their names were Sand and Sable, tall elegant dogs that looked almost comical walking alongside short, round Gloria.

      “That’s okay. I have a place to live.”

      “Where? Don’t tell me you moved in with that musician. I told you he’s no good for you.”

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