by Susie Gayle
“Well, that’s great to hear, Melinda. And for the record, I don’t like you either. Now let’s hug it out.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Come on, just one.”
“I’ll shake your hand. That’s the best you’ll get.”
“Fine.” We shake on it.
After Sarah leaves, I head down to Sammy’s barbershop. We got clearance from the police yesterday to reopen the Pet Shop Stop, but we decided to give it one more day, mostly to recover from both Melinda’s visit and everything that’s happened.
I enter as he’s finishing up with a customer and I sit quietly in one of the red vinyl waiting chairs until he’s done.
“Hey,” he finally greets me as he starts sweeping up hair. “How’d the rest of the visit go?”
“It was fine. Listen, I know you’ve been trying to talk to me, and I’m sorry we haven’t had time. I just want you to know… you don’t have to.”
He frowns. “Don’t have to what?”
“You don’t have to get my approval. You don’t have to ask my permission, and you’re in no way obligated to let me know what’s going on between you and Karen.”
He nods slowly. “That means a lot to me, Will, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
“It’s not?”
“No,” he says gravely. “The truth is… I’m moving out of Seaview Rock.”
“You’re what?!”
“Nah, I’m just kidding.” He grins from ear to ear. “It was about the other thing. And I appreciate that.”
“Runside tonight?” I ask. “I could really use it.”
He nods. “Runside tonight.”
CHAPTER 18
* * *
One month later
The Pet Shop Stop is doing better than ever, thanks to our new in-house grooming. The word is really getting out there, and people are bringing their pets from miles away to have them done by us—and by “us,” I mean Lindsay and her new assistant, Dennis.
Lindsay went back to her parents’ house—rather, her house, now—in Bridgeton, but she’s only twenty minutes away. Things got pretty strange for a little while there, legally-speaking, what with her brother being murdered by her uncle, the administrator of the estate. But I called an acquaintance who banked another favor and got it all straightened out for her.
So basically, Lindsay is now a millionaire. After pesky inheritance taxes and all that nasty stuff it’ll be a heck of a lot less than two-point-three million, but it’s still a hefty sum.
Sarah told her we totally understand if she never wants to set foot inside the Pet Shop Stop again, but she just shrugged and said, “It’s never been about the money for me. I love what I do. I’ll be there Monday, if you’ll have me.”
Dennis won’t admit it, but if I didn’t know better, I’d swear those two had a thing together. They keep saying they don’t want to put a label on it, but I think that’s just something that younger people say to seem cool and aloof. They’re totally dating.
Speaking of, Sarah also confirmed that my best friend Sammy and my ex-wife Karen are a couple. And you know what? I’m okay with that. I got a second chance; she deserves one too, and I can’t think of a better person for her to have one with.
Of course, if she ever hurts Sam the way she hurt me, I’ll have to pull a Max Barker on her. (That’s just a joke. Too soon?)
As for me and Sarah… well, all I can say is I’m lucky she wasn’t around when Lindsay gave me her little speech about heart versus head, because I totally ripped that off and used it to explain why I am the way I am—not quite as eloquently as Lindsay did, but I think I did okay.
“You’re compassionate,” I told her, “and empathetic and caring. You think with your heart. Sometimes to you that might make me look cold or calculating, but really that’s just me thinking with my head first, and heart second. All that means is that we can offer each other different perspectives—ones that might not be immediately apparent to us, as long as we can work together and understand each other.”
“Will,” she told me, “that’s probably the most lucid and simultaneously romantic thing you’ve ever said.”
(Thanks, Lindsay.)
So yeah, that’s our life now. Our weird little pet-shop family has expanded, in a very odd way, to not only include indistinguishable terriers and cats with three paws, but also girls with pink hair and guys that like to wear black skullcaps during their shifts no matter how many times you ask them not to. That’s not even to mention I’m a licensed private investigator in the state of Maine but don’t have any cases even though I owe a county judge two favors.
I’ve reassessed my priorities, and it turns out Sarah was right; they are friends, family, love, and life.
Oh, and the Pet Shop Stop.
THE END