Dreamers and Schemers
by Laura L. Walker
Who said a dog is man’s best friend? Or a woman’s, in my case? My parents’ normally fun little Norwich terrier, Plucky, certainly wasn’t after I discovered what she’d been up to. After I had driven for almost nine hours to my parents’ home in Oklahoma City from Ames, Iowa, Plucky greeted me at the front door with her exuberant barking. Laughing, I set my purse and keys on the side table in the entrance hall and picked her up. “Hi there, Sweetie. Did you miss me? I sure missed you.” With a slurp on my cheek, she happily lapped up all my attention. I sighed in contentment as I scratched her ears.
I was home.
My brother, Matthew, was marrying his fiancée, Evie, tomorrow. Although I had only met her recently, I knew they were perfect for each other. With their longing gazes, light touches and breathy sighs, they had the look of a couple in love. It was enough to make me sick.
Okay, so maybe I was a little jealous. Especially since I’d once had what Matt and Evie have. Then Tim Stratton smashed my heart into tiny pieces by telling me that he was ready to “move on.” The jerk.
But that was over a year ago. Just because he was my brother’s best friend and I was going to see him tonight at the wedding rehearsal was no reason to go all gooey over him.
“Isn’t that right, girl?” I said in a singsong voice, rubbing Plucky’s gray fur and relishing its sweet-scented softness. My younger sister, Callie, must have just given her a bath. “Yep. I’m so over Tim Stratton.”
“Brooklyn? Is that you, honey?”
Mom’s voice carried from the kitchen, drawing me further inside the house. I’d always loved the openness of the great room with its vaulted ceilings and natural lighting. An interior decorator, Mom had accessorized the large windows and furniture in pastel blue and sunflower yellow, which complimented the wood floor beautifully.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” I set Plucky down on the floor.
My parents gathered me in for a hug. Glancing over their shoulders, my eyes took in the gleaming maple wood of the new cabinets facing me. Intricate rosebuds had been carved into the bottom corners of each one. Nice. “I love your cabinets.”
Mom’s mouth twitched. “Guess who made them?”
“Old man Watters?” I guessed.
A peculiar spark lit Mom’s eyes. “No. Tim did. He owns the business now. He bought it from Sam Watters and has turned it into a thriving business. He’s not only getting customers from the outlying areas but even some from Tulsa.”
“Really?” Looking at the cabinets again, I could see why. His work was fantastic. “Kudos for him for following his dreams.”
“We’re glad you made it safely. Have you eaten?”
“Just an apple since lunchtime.”
“We’re serving dinner right after the wedding rehearsal. It starts in thirty minutes. Your father and I need to leave now.” Glancing at her watch, she asked, “Think you can make it in time?”
“If I take a quick shower and head out right after, I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. See you there. Neil, will you grab that box of wedding gifts on the way out?”
“All right, Hon.” Dad, ever the meticulous cartographer, lifted the box with care. “Callie, let’s go,” he called. My fifteen-year-old sister whizzed by with a hurried hello. I soon closed the door behind them.
Twenty minutes later, after a refreshing shower, I was dressed in a colorful blouse and cream-colored slacks. I went to the entrance hall to grab my keys, but they weren’t on the side table where I’d left them. Hmm. Maybe Callie had put them inside my purse. I dug around in it for a few minutes. They weren’t there.
A thorough search of the house proved fruitless. The wedding rehearsal would start in only a few minutes. Where were they? I tried to staunch the panicky feeling that threatened to take over. Pulling out my cell phone, I called Mom.
“Yes, Brooklyn?”
“Did you see my keys before you left the house?”
“No, Sweetie. I was too busy getting everything else together. They aren’t where you left them?”
“No.”
A sigh came from Mom’s end. “We’ll have to search for them later. The rehearsal’s starting right now. I’ll send someone over for you.”
Reluctantly, I agreed. I had just hung up when a thought struck. What if Plucky had run off with them? It wouldn’t be the first time she had done something like that. She was known around the neighborhood as The Plucky Bandit. I guess my parents just didn’t have the heart to close off her doggy door, no matter how many times I tried to convince them she’d be safer that way. Or maybe they didn’t want to curb her sense of adventure.
I had just stooped down on my hands and knees to look under the couch in the great room when the doorbell rang. With a huff, I stood and brushed off my clothes and righted my lopsided chunky necklace. I was unprepared for the hunk that met my eyes when I opened the front door. Wavy dark hair fell to his ears, accentuating thick eyebrows and soulful mahogany eyes. I’d never considered myself to be one of those simpering ninnies you read about in romance novels, but his heart-stopping smile almost caused me to wilt.
“Sorry to bother you,” he began. His voice held a nasal tone but a girl could overlook that. “You must be the long-lost Brooklyn I’ve heard so much about.”
He’d heard of me? Well, this must be my lucky day.
“Y-y-yes.” I was getting a little annoyed with myself at this point. I really wasn’t a simpering female but how often does a hottie plant himself on your doorstep? I must have been dreaming. “And you are?”
“Grayson Kipling. I’m your parents’ new neighbor. And I think your dog left another housewarming gift for me. Aside from the odorous first one she left on my front lawn, that is.” The corner of his eyes crinkled as he held up my pair of keys.
“Oh! You found them!” With a loud whoop, I launched myself at him. Stumbling back slightly, Grayson caught me. The hug probably lasted longer than it should have. When I pulled back, he smoothed his shirt. Oops! I must have wrinkled it. “Thank you so much! I’ve been looking for these for over ten minutes and I’m late for my brother’s wedding rehearsal.”
The wedding rehearsal! Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten. In the excitement of the moment, I hadn’t noticed the gold sedan that pulled up to my curb or the guy who stepped out of it—the one whom I had also considered hunky at one time—though in a different way.
His golden brown hair was cropped in the way I remembered so well and his almond-shaped eyes—which were narrowed at the moment—drew me like a magnet. His normally-prominent dimples were missing, as was his easy-going smile. The moment I had dreaded since learning of Matt and Evie’s engagement just got a whole lot messier by my ex-boyfriend seeing me hug my parents’ good-looking neighbor. I took a shuddering breath and forced a smile. “Hello, Tim.”
Typeractive Tales: A Collection of Clean Short Fiction Page 18