by Cat Clayton
“She’s sworn off food unless I let her go back,” Pop said, fuming.
Over the years, experience taught me about my dad’s limits. I needed to snuff out the spark before it ignited into a raging fire.
“Huh, well at least she’ll keep her girlish figure in check,” I said, plucking half her ham and cheese from the plate. I took a huge bite.
Stoney’s head whipped in my direction, her eyes wide as dinner plates. The corner of her mouth twitched, bordering on a smile. I winked at her.
“Up for a ride?” I hoped my charm worked.
“Steely Sue, what’re you doing?” Pop asked.
I shrugged and took another bite, chewed a bit, then spoke with my mouth full. “Grabbing some lunch.”
Stoney’s eyes traveled from me to Pop and to me again. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to burst into laughter or flee.
Pop cleared his throat. “I mean, your sister. She’s not ready to venture out yet,” he said, turning to Stoney. “Are you?”
She nodded. “A ride would be nice,” she said, her voice and facial expressions so much like Mama’s it hurt.
I smiled. “I’ll have her back in an hour,” I told Pop. I tore off two paper towels and snagged two sodas from the fridge, handing one to Stoney. “Grab your half, let’s go.”
She picked up her half of the sandwich and wrapped the paper towel I handed her around it.
We were out the front door before he could stop us.
“Do you always talk to him like that?” she asked, opening the passenger door of the Bug and climbing in.
“Not usually. But I went all sisterly on his butt, didn’t I?” I stared over at her from the driver’s seat.
This time, she laughed. Music to my ears. Oh boy, she even laughed like Mama.
“So, where are we headed?” she asked and took a nibble of her sandwich.
“Well, I need to head out to an art gallery right outside of town and talk to the owner. I thought you might enjoy coming along.” I could’ve called Lizzie on the phone, but I had a niggling bad feeling about Patches. I wanted to check on her with my own eyes.
She glanced in the back seat. “Where’s your little dog?”
“His name’s Cuff. I left him back at the shop. He has puppy love for one of our client’s dog. Besides, he talks too much and I wanted you all to myself.”
She nodded and chewed, staring out the window. “Funny. About him talking too much.”
If you only knew. I popped open my soda can and took a swallow. “So, how’re you doing? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Okay, I guess,” she said, shrugging. “It’s weird. Being here. It’s like, I don’t know how to act or what to say.”
“I understand,” I said. “It’ll get easier. Don’t you think?”
“Maybe,” she said.
“You’re not really considering going back there. Are you?”
She shrugged again. “Can we talk about something else? Anything really. Do you enjoy running Gigi and Papa’s place?”
I didn’t want to push her. I settled for getting reacquainted. “Actually, to be honest, I love it! I had been working for the shop anyway. So, taking over ownership when Gertie decided she wanted to retire seemed to be the natural thing to do.”
She glanced in my direction. “You are all grown, Steely.” Her eyes teared up.
I smiled. “So are you. Anyway, Gertie’s now back at the shop working for me. She lived over at Bluebonnet Hills for a short time after Papa passed away. But she caught a trashcan on fire and hacked the nurse station’s computer, so they kicked her out.”
“I can’t believe I missed Papa passing away,” she said, her voice cracking. “And Mama.”
“Hey, we can deal with the heavy, sad stuff later.” I tried to lighten the mood and switched the conversation. “Wanna know why Gertie moved out of her apartment and into the retirement center?”
She wiped her tears with her paper towel. “Why?”
I snorted. “She caught her hair on fire lighting a cigarette on her gas stove burner!”
“Oh my! It sounds like she has a thing for fire. I heard her and Pop arguing about the flare incident at a bar the other night,” she said.
I explained the story. We laughed all the way to Lizzie and Lloyd’s art gallery. As we pulled into the parking lot, I warned her.
“Some may consider what they do weird art, but I think it’s pretty cool,” I said. “Look around while I talk to Lizzie about our pet costume contest coming up.”
“Okay,” she said and followed me up the steps.
Whimsical metal art sculptures of every color decorated the yard and the front porch of the gallery. Inside, a plethora of vintage-fabric-covered mannequins adorned the room. Some stood. Others were engaged in conversations with one another. They had staged two sitting and having tea at a table. As interesting as they were, the creep factor screamed in the room. I guessed she must purchase the mannequins from department stores.
Lloyd’s abstract landscapes painted in vivid colors hung in colorful wooden frames on the walls. Everywhere your eyes traveled, they found bright colors, funky coolness, and eclectic furniture.
“Wow,” Stoney said, mouth gaped.
“I know, right?” I said. I waved to Lizzie who walked out from the back, dressed in a teal, flowy tunic top, a pair of faded jeans rolled at her ankles, and a pair of tan leather ankle boots. She wore her wavy, dark locks up in a cute, tousled bun.
“Hi, Steely. What can I do for you?” Lizzie asked.
Stoney wandered off to admire the art, and I got down to business.
I padded over to the glass counter to chat with Lizzie. She pulled a pile of material scraps from a box and began sorting the pieces according to color.
“The fabric is beautiful,” I said, admiring the rich golds, burgundy, and emerald.
“Isn’t it? I picked it up for dirt cheap from a vintage fabric lady out at the Round Top show. I’m working on a new piece. You want to see?” she said, her eyes shimmering.
I hadn’t noticed the first time we spoke, the evening she picked up Patches, but, close-up, Lizzie had the features of a fairy. She looked spritely, with high, well-defined cheekbones speckled with light freckles, bright green eyes, and ivory skin.
“Sure,” I said.
She glided across the room and retrieved a mounted deer head, partially covered with fabric swatches. She placed it on the counter gently.
“It will be exquisite when I’m finished!” she said, smiling. “Don’t you think?”
I stared at it, trying to decide how to answer her. My expression must’ve spoken volumes.
She chuckled. “It’s not a real deer's head, Steely. It’s a taxidermy form made from a special foam. See here, I’ll finish patching on these swatches of fabric. It sort of reminds me of quilting in a way.”
“But on animals.”
“Frames of animals,” she said, correcting me. “Now, what is it you needed? I was so eager to show you my newest creation; I forgot why you came in.”
Oh. Right. The contest. “I wanted to give you a heads up. We’re hosting the contest at the shop now, not the library. I’ve already cleared it with the city. We’ll have a parade out on Main Street and award prizes right there in front of Scrubadub.”
I glanced around and didn’t see any evidence of Patches. Odd.
“Okay,” she said, peering over at Stoney. “Sounds good. Is that all?”
Lloyd had wandered in, and he and Stoney were talking. I’d only seen him a time or two and never close up. I guessed his age near fifty and his disheveled, artsy appearance made him attractive in a trendy, hipster fashion. His white T-shirt had paint on the front, as did the thighs of his faded blue jeans. He wore a friendly smile and his tousled, dark blond hair curled at the neckline of his tee. A pair of black-rimmed spectacles rested on his nose.
“I’m thinking if you could be there on Saturday at 9:00 AM, it’d be great,” I said. I found her lack of attention irritatin
g as she focused on Lloyd and Stoney chatting. I cleared my throat. “Lizzie, will 9:00 AM work for you?”
Her head whipped back toward me. “Huh? What?” she said. “Did you say nine? Sorry, I get distracted easily.” She laughed, her voice tinkling like wind chimes. Her eyes cut back over to her husband.
“Yes.” I studied her. “Is everything all right?”
“Is she with you?” Lizzie asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh yes, she’s my sister, Stoney,” I said. “She’s been... away for a while. She returned home yesterday.”
She watched them with eagle eyes. “I see. She doesn’t look like you at all.”
“No, she takes after our late mother. I look more like my father,” I replied.
“Hmm,” Lizzie said, turning her attention back to me. “Do I need to bring anything?”
“Nope, only yourself. And Lloyd’s welcome to come if he wants. The pups, too. Oh, speaking of pups, where’s Patches?”
“She’s around here somewhere,” Lizzie said, a flash of something unreadable in her eyes. She made no effort to find the dog. “Now, if that’s all, we have work to do.” She peered over at her husband. “Darling, what are y’all talking about over there?”
Lloyd sauntered over, and Stoney followed him, the two of them chuckling to themselves.
“Hi, I’m Lloyd,” he said, offering his right hand to me.
Charming. “I’m Steely,” I said and shook his hand.
“Lloyd mentioned he could give me painting classes,” Stoney said, her amber eyes glowing. “Isn’t it great?”
I smiled. “I didn’t know you were interested in art.” Truth is, I know nothing about her likes and dislikes. “But yes, it’s wonderful!”
“My husband loves to talk art,” Lizzie said, her tone borderline sarcastic. She clapped him on the shoulder. “He’ll talk to anyone about art until he’s blue in the face!” She said at her poor attempt of a joke.
Stoney let out a chuckle.
I gave the room a second glance, hunting for clues of Patches’s whereabouts.
“But, I’m not sure we have time to be giving art classes, Lloyd,” Lizzie said. “We have a lot of work to do here at the gallery.”
Lloyd appeared oblivious to his wife’s opposition to giving Stoney lessons, and he wandered back over to hang another of his paintings. “Nice to meet y’all!” he said with his back to us.
“Can I do anything else for you?” Lizzie asked, pressing her lips together and smiling.
“No, that’ll do it,” I said.
“Well, I hope it works out. The classes would be good for me,” Stoney said.
Lizzie’s smile remained. “Sure. We’ll see what we can work out,” she replied. “Now, I really must get back to work. The deer's head is for an Austin restaurant and I have a deadline for it early Thursday morning.”
Stoney and I made our way outside. The front door to the gallery closed behind us. A dreamcatcher adorned with feathers, strips of material, and beads hung from the porch rafters.
“The gallery is something, huh?” I examined the yard. I whistled softly. “I hoped to see a friend’s dog though. The Maddens recently acquired her after our friend passed away.”
“I loved the gallery. But she didn’t seem very welcoming,” Stoney said.
“Eh, artists can be eccentric folks. I wouldn’t take any offense,” I said.
A pathetic whining came from under the front porch.
“Did you hear something?” I asked.
“It sounded like a dog,” she answered.
I jogged down the wooden steps and peered underneath the pier and beam building. The dark, cavernous space smelled musty. I made a kissing sound, which prompted another whine. I squinted and made out a shape. It moved, and I saw a flash of white.
“Patches, is that you?”
Chapter 18
I made a kissing sound again. “Come here, girl.”
Out from under the porch, Patches belly-crawled toward me. She wiggled herself free and greeted me with hopeless eyes and a wet tongue.
“How’re you, girl? Missing your mama, I bet,” I said to the black and white border collie.
“She’s beautiful,” Stoney said, stroking the dog’s silky coat.
The front door opened. “There you are, Patches!” Lizzie said in a cheerful voice. “I had no idea where she’d roamed off to. Thank you for finding her. C’mon, girl!” Ramen, the Madden’s little terrier, stuck his nose from between her legs and gave a merry little yip.
Patches gave me more wet kisses and traipsed up the steps. She turned and slumped into the gallery and the door closed behind her.
“I feel awful for Petunia’s dog.” I climbed into the car and clicked in my seatbelt. “Patches seems downright miserable.”
Stoney took a sip of her soda and placed the can back in the cup holder. She pulled the seatbelt strap over her body and secured it with a snap, staring at the front of the gallery.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. Lloyd seems nice,” she said. “I thought it was kind of him to offer me painting lessons.”
Art would be good therapy for Stoney; I agreed. But I didn’t see it happening soon. Lizzie made it clear they were busy getting their gallery up and running. I put the car in reverse and backed up. Not wanting to disappoint my sister, I tried to sound optimistic.
“Maybe after this pet contest is over, we can look into it again. In the meantime, how about I enlist you in helping me? I can use all the help I can find.”
“With what?” she asked.
I put the car in gear and headed back toward Pop’s house.
“Scrubadub’s annual pet costume contest. It’s held every October, near Halloween. All the proceeds go to help the local animal shelter. Scrubadub has hosted several, but this will be my first since I took over the shop.”
The pasture landscape quickly changed to small-town suburbia as we drove into town. Scattered businesses, Little Bob’s Brewery, the Burger Palace, and Buzz’s taxidermy shop soon led to Pleasant Hills’s charming downtown. A banner hung across the road at Main Street and 1st Street. It read: Welcome to Pleasant Hills, Y’all!
“Isn’t Halloween this weekend? Sounds fun. I’m in,” Stoney said, her hands folded in her lap.
“Sure is! I hoped you’d say so. We have lots to do.” I pulled the Bug up to the curb in front of Pop’s house.
Stoney remained belted in the seat, her head turned toward the window.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know, really. But looking at him makes me sad.”
“Pop?”
She nodded. “Yes. And it’s weird without Mama there. The house seems so empty,” she said.
Imagine how he feels, I thought. I came up with a quick plan. “Why don’t you come back to the shop with me? We can sure use some help up there.”
She turned and smiled. “Okay, but what about him?” She pointed to the house.
“I’ll run in and tell him. I’ll be right back,” I said and climbed out of the car.
Twenty minutes later, Stoney and I entered the back door of the shop. Daniel called out my name from the groom room. Stoney followed me in, where we found Daniel elbow deep in a washtub, scrubbing the soaked fur of Maisy, Mr. Peters’s black standard poodle. Cuff and Taffy were playing chase the tail, zooming out of the room. Taffy’s silky coat shined with pink highlights on the tufts of her clipped head and the tips of her perky ears. Cuff had a streak of pink on the tip of his tail.
“Hey Steely, can you take Boo-Bear up front? He’s done.” Daniel nodded his head to the black and tan mixed breed. Daniel’s smock had smears of pink dye on it.
“Sure,” I said, unsnapping Boo-Bear’s lead. The pup wagged his thick tail; it smacked against my leg. “Hey, handsome guy!” I whispered. At least he escaped the pink during his visit, his sleek black coat resembling marble.
“Stoney, hold him for a sec while I chat with Daniel.” I handed her the leash.
&n
bsp; With a little reluctance, she accepted the lead.
“Where’s Gertie?” I asked Daniel.
“Sitting up front, ordering supplies,” he said, washing Maisy’s underbelly.
Maisy’s eyes were closed as she enjoyed the scrub.
“Why isn’t she doing the orders from my office?” I asked him.
He raised one eyebrow. “Have you seen the lobby? It made better sense for her to do it there so she didn’t have to keep running up front every time the doorbell jingled.”
I nodded. He had a good point. “It’s one thing I love about you. You’re always thinking on your toes.” I patted his shoulder.
He pretended to pout. “You should love me because Mrs. Peacock came back in and wanted to sign up Pop-Tart for the contest, and I handled it.”
“What’d you tell her?” I asked, thankful I’d escaped dealing with her.
“I’m not beneath taking her money for a good cause,” he said, winking. He glanced over my shoulder, and then, jutted his chin out. “Look.”
I turned to find Stoney sitting on the floor cross-legged, Boo-Bear’s massive body plopped down in the middle of her lap. She smiled up at me, and for the first time since her return, the smile appeared genuine.
“Thanks for handling Mrs. Peacock.”
“My pleasure, my dear,” he said with a grin.
Speaking of the vile woman, I wondered if Jackson had found out anything about her possible involvement with Petunia’s death.
The afternoon breezed by with Gertie on the computer, Stoney greeting clients and bringing dogs back and forth from the lobby to the groom room, Daniel washing, trimming, and drying, and me wrapping up plans for the upcoming contest. I processed all the participants’ fees and ordered coffee and twelve dozen pies from Baker’s Bliss for Saturday’s festivities. I didn’t want to jinx myself, but everything fell into place nicely.
In an emptied lobby, the four of us sat tuckered out from the exhausting yet productive day. We took advantage of Daniel’s stylist expertise, and we did a root touch-up on my red, a quick trim for Stoney, and Daniel attempted to even out Gertie’s purple. Unfortunately for her, the purple only faded to lavender and spread, covering most of the top of her head.