their proper places. Not many pictures on the walls or other personal decor, but that was something that would happen eventually.
The whole place needed a good vacuuming after she was done, and then she made another batch of cookies. She decided to make a chicken and bake some potatoes, and mixed up some honey-and-wheat bread dough. After she got it rising in the bread machine, she rinsed broccoli to steam later.
Cooking and baking still felt vaguely like forbidden fun. She’d spent almost ten years modeling, worrying about every extra ounce she gained, keeping her body at a weight far thinner than she would be naturally. Since she’d stopped, she’d gained nearly fifteen pounds. But she’d done it carefully and when she’d felt as if she looked more like a normal human being than a scarecrow in stilettos, she’d stopped and concentrated on maintaining that weight. It was ridiculously easy compared to the rigid diet she’d adhered to in the past.
As she soaked her aching body in a gloriously hot, soothing bath, she worked a cramp out of her calf, wincing as she kneaded the knotted muscle. She had to admit, even to herself, that she’d gotten a little carried away with the unpacking, cleaning and baking today. It would be pretty mortifying if she yawned in Brendan’s face. Or even worse, if she fell asleep!
With that thought in mind, she drank a soda loaded with caffeine as she set the table a few minutes before six-thirty, then rushed into her bedroom to put her hair up again.
Her hand stilled as she realized what she was doing. Brendan couldn’t see what she looked like! The realization was a surprisingly freeing thought. Tonight she would be judged solely on her character and conversation, on what she was like as a person. Her looks would never even enter into the mix.
It might be freeing, but it also was terrifying, she decided. What if she wasn’t an interesting person?
Two
B rendan finished washing up the bowls from the dogs’ dinner. He’d already taken each one out, but as he listened to the time, he realized he’d better get moving if he didn’t want to be late to dinner with his new neighbor.
He was pretty sure his shirt and slacks from the office were still clean, but he wasn’t taking any chances, so he headed into his bedroom to change. Clean pants. His fingers found pants hangers and he chose khakis rather than jeans and pulled out a brown belt, identified by the tiny Braille tag he’d used to label it.
He passed by the suits paired with dress shirts and matching ties on the metal hangers and felt the plastic ones that were his system for locating casual shirts. Better get a clean shirt, too. Showing up with an ink stain or food smeared on his collar wasn’t the impression he wanted to make.
He was running his fingertips over the label that clued him in to color when his hand stilled on the knit shirt he’d chosen. Since when did he care about making an impression on a woman?
Quickly he finished dressing and called the dogs. He harnessed Cedar and put a leash on Feather. She tried repeatedly to shove her way between Cedar and him, and when he finally used a stern tone, she skulked behind him as if he’d beaten her with a stick.
“I’m sorry, girl,” he told her as he stood in front of Lynne DeVane’s door. “I’m doing the best I can to make this work.”
“Make what work?” Lynne opened the door in time to hear his last comment.
He forced a laugh. “Sorry. I don’t usually stand around talking to my dogs.”
“Really?” Her tone held amusement.
He thought about it. “Okay, maybe I do.”
“I don’t blame you. They pay attention to what you’re saying more than people do most of the time.” The direction of her voice shifted and he realized she had stepped back so that he could enter. “Please come in and have a seat. But then you have to tell me what you were talking about.”
As he entered her apartment, he told Cedar, “Find a chair.”
“I didn’t realize you taught them things like that,” she said as Cedar took him across the room and he found a large wing chair with his outstretched hand.
“Good boy,” he said to the dog. To Lynne, he said, “It isn’t a formal command taught by the school, but when I first got Feather, another guide dog user suggested that it might be a useful command, along with things like, ‘find the door.’ Some people use specific commands to find a family member in a large store.” He’d chosen finding a chair for the first thing he’d teach Cedar, and already his big black dog was catching on.
“How long have you had Cedar?”
“We just graduated from the training school two weeks ago.”
“Oh, my,” she said, clearly taken aback. “I assumed you’d worked together much longer than that.”
He smiled. “He’s a good dog. And having worked with one dog helps. When you get your first dog, both of you have to learn everything together. Speaking of which, where is Feather?” He stretched his hand down to his right side where he’d been trying to teach her to lie, but she wasn’t there.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lynne said. “I was petting her. Isn’t that allowed?”
“No, it’s fine unless a dog is working,” he said. “She’s probably enjoying the attention. Since I retired her and got Cedar, she’s been getting more and more depressed.”
“How can you tell?”
He shrugged. “She’s not eating well. Sniffs her food and turns away. And she just seems kind of…lackluster. Dull. She used to be bouncy and her tail was always wagging. I could always tell because her whole body vibrates from the back end forward when that tail’s going.”
“It sounds funny to think of a dog suffering from depression, but I suppose it makes sense. Did you say you two worked together for eight years?”
“Yes. She just had her tenth birthday.” He sighed. “I’m starting to think I should have let her go. A lot of times the original families who raised them as puppies will take them back again, but if not, the school has a waiting list of families who will adopt a retired guide.”
“How could you give her up, though, after all that time together?”
She understood. Warmth spread through him. “Exactly. It’s not easy for a blind person like me who lives alone to care for two dogs, but I just couldn’t send her away. She’s a part of my family.”
“I can imagine,” Lynne murmured. “I don’t think I could do it, either.” Her voice changed as she bent over and addressed his dog. “You’re a beautiful girl, yes, you are. With a beautiful name.” She laughed in delight.
“Let me guess. She rolled over on her back and has conned you into rubbing her belly.”
“Oh, so you’re a belly-rub slut,” she said to the dog. “It’s disappointing to hear that you’ll do this for anybody.”
He chuckled. “In a big way.” He fondled Cedar’s ears as a comfortable silence stretched.
“I apologize for grilling you,” Lynne said. “You probably get really sick
