Linny's Sweet Dream List

by Susan Schild

  At the checkout desk, Ruthie tsked as she searched through a cabinet. “I’m sorry, but we ran out of flea and tick preventative for pups his size. Our shipment comes in Thursday. Can you stop by sometime Friday to pick it up?”

  “Sure.” Linny paid the bill with an iffy credit card, and exhaled as it went through.

  The door to the clinic opened, and a petite blonde sailed in. Built like a Barbie doll, she wore a pink and green paisley dress. A grosgrain hair band held back her white-blonde bob. Her pink ballet flats didn’t look like they’d caved through the bathroom floor of a trailer lately. She spoke in a breathy, little-girl voice. “Hey, Ruthie. Is Jack in?”

  “Linny, you dropped Roy’s pills,” the vet called, holding up the box as he walked toward her.

  The blonde intercepted him, touching his arm. “Hey, honey.” She gave him a dazzling smile.

  Jack’s brows knit. “Oh. Hey, Vera.”

  Of course this was the wife. She and the vet were probably high school sweethearts who’d married young, still swooned over each other after umpteen years of marriage, and had a darling son, to boot. Some women just got over-served in the blessing department. Linny tried not to stare, but couldn’t help it. The blonde wife was so perfect—petite, creamy skinned, and polished.

  Ignoring Linny, Vera held up a brochure and tapped it with a neat French-tipped nail. “The information about the after-school enrichment programs came today.” Pushing back a lock of hair, the stone on her left hand sparkled. “Do you have time to take me to lunch? We can make some decisions about which would be best.”

  “All right,” Jack said evenly. He turned to Linny and handed her the wormer pills.

  “Thanks.” Linny took it and, next to Miss French Tips, felt acutely aware of her own raggedy nails. Stepping back from the counter, she stumbled on the large, pink handbag Vera had set on the floor behind her, and gasped as she felt herself starting to fall.

  Quickly, the vet reached out and steadied her.

  Again, Linny felt the surging charge at the contact with him. She shot him a quick glance and exhaled quietly. Jiminy.

  “Oh. I’m so sorry.” Vera’s tone was sweet, but her eyes were appraising.

  Linny scurried out, and wrestled wiggle worm Roy back into the car. Despite the oven-like interior, the car suddenly seemed like a haven. She flipped the air conditioning on Max and the vents blew cool for a moment, but then spewed only lukewarm air. Another thing she didn’t have the money to fix. Maybe with her next paycheck. “Dang.” Linny fretted, trying to coax it along by turning it on and off. Finally, she switched it off, lifted the hair off her neck and rolled down the window.

  Turning on the radio, she tried to distract herself. She’d kept it set to the classical station lately—one of Indigo’s suggestions to calm jumpy nerves. As the sounds of an orchestra filled the air, an opera name flew into her head. Madame Butterfly. Jack was an opera fan. He’d been listening to an opera at the landfill, and whistling an aria from Madame Butterfly just now. She shook her head, even more intrigued with the truck-driving, opera-loving vet. She sighed. Why did the Veras of the world get to cherry-pick the interesting men?

  By the time she pulled in the driveway, she’d given herself a good talking to, and about shaken off her funk. Her phone rang and Kate chirped, “How did the vet visit go?”

  “Good.” She’d omit the part about the crazy electricity she’d felt. “You’ll never guess who he is.”

  Kate spoke in a tone of exaggerated patience. “I know the vet. I sent you to him, remember?”

  “No. Jack Avery is the man I hit in the head with a bottle at the dump.”

  “Oh, no!”

  “Oh, yes.” Linny filled her in on the details.

  “Oh, dear.” Her sister’s laughter bubbled up.

  Linny shook her head ruefully. “I make good first impressions.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I don’t know him well, but my read on him is that he’s a good guy with a sense of humor.”

  Linny gave a world-weary sigh. “I met his wife. She’s petite, stunning, and looks high maintenance.”

  “I thought he was single. He doesn’t seem the type to have a wife like that,” Kate said thoughtfully.

  “Well, he seemed nice.” She tried to sound bland, but flushed remembering the arc of electricity she’d felt when she touched him. Last time she’d felt that kind of high voltage, she’d run off to Bermuda and married trouble. She shuddered, and vowed to steer clear of Jack Avery or die trying.

  CHAPTER 4

  Diamond Rings and Heartaches

  Wednesday morning, Linny stood in the shower and let the hot water sluice over her face as she tried to psych herself up about her first day back at work. As she rinsed the soap from her hair, she’d snorted over this morning’s personal affirmation. Open your heart to the boundless grace, joy, and blessings of each day. Easy for Indigo to say—she didn’t teach Managing Career Change programs. But Linny read it again, and tried her best to take it to heart.

  Something brushed her calf, and when she looked down a giant hairy spider whizzed crazily against her leg. Heart pounding, she sprang from the shower, and dripping, peered around the curtain at the creature. She shuddered. Where there was one, there was probably a whole hive or pride or pack or whatever you call a bunch of spiders. But, dang it, it was her shower. Pulse racing, she threw her bath towel over the bug, and scooped it up.

  Buck-naked, Linny marched through the house, stepped outside, and shook the bundle. Surprised at her own bravery, she grinned as she walked back to the bathroom. She’d summon grace, joy, and blessings, but in the meantime, she’d do what needed to be done.

  Forty-five minutes later, Linny pulled away from Kate and Jerry’s house. In the rearview mirror, she watched a sleepy-eyed Kate hold Roy against her pink flannel robe and wave his little paw goodbye. Linny swallowed hard. Good grief. How did mothers make it through their child’s first day at school? She gave a final glance back and cracked a smile—Kate had Lyle Lovett hair this morning.

  As she pulled onto the interstate, her stomach churned at the thought of being back at work. She’d thought she was ready, but she wasn’t. She was too raw and disoriented to act like a competent professional. Why had she agreed to go back early? Linny tried to remember one of Indigo’s dances but drew a blank. She sighed as she rolled into the parking lot of Kipling Outsourcing.

  As she pushed the button for the eighth floor, Linny took a deep breath, trying to quell her rising panic. Nervously, she gave herself a once-over in the mirrored door of elevator, and was surprised at how presentable she looked for a woman who’d had to rummage through three packing boxes to find her pumps. She tried to flex her cramped toes and sighed. Nine days of wearing running shoes had been heaven.

  As she opened the door to her office, she stopped short. A woman sat at her desk, looking at her laptop, and talking on her phone. Linny felt a wave of hot irritation when she recognized Annalise, the brainy new hire with the chic asymmetrical haircut and slightly superior attitude. Linny tried to sound cordial. “Good morning, Annalise.”

  The young woman jumped, but held up a finger to quiet Linny while ending her call. As she replaced the receiver, she said coolly, “Hi, Linny. We’re short on offices. Walt said find whatever space I could and, well, you’ve been away.” Her eyes glinted behind her hipster glasses. “Sorry.”

  But she didn’t sound sorry, and she took her time about gathering her papers from the desk and slipping them in a binder. The blood pounded in Linny’s ears, and she tried to slow her breath as she fought the urge to say, Yes, it took a little time to bury my husband. Instead, she nodded, willed her blood pressure back down, and waited for her to leave.

  Annalise was two steps into the hallway when she paused and called over her shoulder, “I’m sorry about . . . your loss.”

  Automatically, Linny said, “Thank you,” but the young woman was already gone. Smarting from the rudeness, she sat, but quickly stood up. The chair
was still warm from the new hire’s skinny bottom. She’d get a cup of coffee and let the chair—and her temper—cool off.

  En route to the break room, she tried to slow her breathing. When had Annalise become so pushy? Before Linny had gone on leave, Annalise was assigned to shadow her for a week. She’d asked earnest questions, and taken detailed notes. Linny had been impressed with her, and more than a little bit flattered.

  As she waited for the coffee machine to finish dripping, Linny closed her eyes briefly, breathed in the scent of hazelnut, and tried to remember the chapter she’d read yesterday—another dance she’d had trouble visualizing. Indigo was pushing it with her suggestion to Frug with the fox through fear and frustration. Finally, the coffee was done and, gratefully, she lifted the cup.

  Her boss, Walt, strode into the break room and boomed, “Good morning.”

  Linny jostled her cup, and hot coffee splashed her fingers. Dang. Putting the cup down carefully, she mopped up as she tried to smile at him. “Good morning, Walt.”

  “Linny, I hate that we’re having this same conversation again, after such a short time. We are so sorry about the loss of your husband.” He clasped her hands with his baseball-mitt-sized hands.

  She nodded her thanks. It was a déjà vu moment. She’d had this exact same conversation with Walt three years ago when she’d lost a husband worth mourning. “Thanks for the flowers, Walt. I really appreciate all your calls and support.”

  “Well, when a member of the team takes a hit, we all take a hit.” He nodded vigorously, and gave her a searching gaze. “Are you sure you’re ready to be back at work? We want you to take all the time you need to . . . feel better.”

  For a moment, Linny felt warmed by his words, but reminded herself of the urgent subtext of his calls. We’re thinking of you was followed by mention of Kipling being awarded a big, new contract. Walt had managed to work in that they were running wide open, and trying to make it work despite being one man down. He needed her back at work as quickly as possible.

  As they gathered for the staff meeting, Linny acknowledged her colleagues’ expressions of sympathy while cringing internally. Accepting condolences made her feel like such a hypocrite. She was sorry about Buck, too, but not in the way they thought.

  Walt kicked off the meeting, and met her eyes. “We’re all glad to have you back, Linny. We sure missed you, although”—He pointed a thumb at the young woman—“Annie here has been a big help filling in.”

  Annalise kept her eyes demurely down and gave a modest smile.

  Linny blinked. When had Annalise become Annie? Eight months ago, when she was still an intern, Annalise had expounded on a new theory she’d learned in her management class, and Linny had widened her eyes at Walt. He’d given her a lightning fast wink. She thought they’d both pegged the girl as full of herself.

  But something had changed. Linny folded her hands and watched carefully as the meeting progressed. Was Walt using an almost deferential tone with the girl? Linny was one of the few people at Kipling who knew that her boss did not have a college degree, and that it bothered him. Walt had been too impressed with Annalise’s degree from Duke. During college basketball season, he would open staff meetings by checking with Annalise on how the Blue Devils were doing. It always burned Linny up. Her two years at a community college and transfer to finish at State University didn’t have the same cachet. She blinked and tried to focus on the meeting. Indigo always said to stay fully in the present.

  Walt detailed the upcoming projects. “We have a lot going on here, people, so we need one hundred and ten percent commitments from each of you.” He glanced around the table, as if challenging them to object.

  Everyone looked serious and nodded.

  Jarrod groaned when he was assigned a plant closing in Newark, and Aaron gloated over a new project in Las Vegas. “I’m putting it all on red, baby,” he crowed.

  “We have something that’s sure to boost your spirits, Linny—a contract to help with a layoff in sunny California.” He beamed expectantly, and Linny’s mouth opened and closed, carp-like.

  She suddenly knew with desperate certainty that she did not want to go to California with the hatchet team. She just couldn’t. How could she encourage employees reeling from bad news when she was dealing with so much of her own bad news? She spoke hesitantly, “Walt, can I think about this, and get back to you about it? I have some commitments . . .”

  Walt raised his caterpillar-like eyebrows at her and looked confused.

  This was her own fault. She never said no to him. Thoughts sped around her brain. She was the faithful foot soldier—the one who turned on the lights in the morning, the first employee back at work after a snowstorm. Dutiful, that was the word. She didn’t know if she could do dutiful anymore.

  Annalise’s clear voice rang out. “I’d love to work the California job. I’ve looked over the material, and it seems pretty straightforward.”

  Linny felt the back of her neck prickle and had a gut feeling that Annalise had rifled through her desk and examined her Instructor’s Manual for the Managing Career Change class. Studying her, she noticed the girl’s teeth as she talked. Her two incisors protruded crookedly. She looked feral.

  The young woman shot her a defiant look, and returned to her demure casting-down-of-her-eyes shtick. “I know I don’t have quite all the experience I need, Walt, but you could coach me.”

  Linny simmered. Didn’t quite have the experience? She didn’t have a fraction of the experience she needed to work sensitively with people in turmoil. Trying to calm herself, Linny realized she was feeling angry possessiveness about a program she didn’t want to lead. But Annalise would muck it up and Linny couldn’t let that happen. Just as she was about to insist she go to California, she heard a voice in her head that sounded a lot like Mary Catherine’s. Keep your hand down, Miss Good Girl. You don’t want to do this.

  After a beat of silence, Walt backpedaled gracefully. “I tell you what, let’s not decide now. We’ll look at our resources, and revisit this in the morning.”

  As the team shuffled out of the meeting room, Linny hung behind, and murmured to her boss, “Walt, do you have a few minutes to talk?”

  “Sure.” He motioned her toward a seat at the table, and closed the door.

  Linny began hesitantly, “I’ve been thinking about my role here at Kipling. I’m grateful for all the opportunities you’ve given me, but I’m wondering if I could change how I contribute to the organization.” Her mouth was dry as she just blurted it out. “Walt, I’m burned out on layoffs. It was never a good fit for me, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

  Walt blinked, and laced his fingers on his ample stomach. “But you’re so good at it. Clients give you top ratings.”

  Linny leaned forward, and slowly enunciated each syllable. “But I don’t like it.”

  He cocked his head. “What would you rather do?”

  Linny hadn’t thought it through completely. Ideas careened around as crazily as the hairy spider in the shower, and she said in a halting voice, “I liked what I did before—training supervisors, customer service training, orienting new employees . . .” Walt’s bushy brows undulated like two traveling caterpillars, and she trailed off.

  He waved a hand dismissively. “They don’t call on us much for that these days. Rightsizing has become our niche. Our clients want our help to run lean businesses, and turn profits for shareholders.” He shook his head, looking frustrated. “Linny, this is what we do. I can’t redesign your job just because you’re tired of layoffs.” He blew out a noisy sigh, but then gave her a sympathetic look. “Maybe you just need to take the rest of the week off. You’ve had a rough go of it.”

  Linny felt a lick of panic in her gut. What had she done? Just because she was having some existential crisis about not liking her work didn’t mean she needed to blab about it to her boss. She tried to sound peppy. “I don’t need any more time off, Walt. I’m okay. Really I am.”

  He held up a
hand. “Linny, I insist. Take a long weekend, and come back ready to tackle the work.”

  She knew Walt well enough to know his mind was made up. Pasting a smile on her face, she said in a too bright voice, “Okay, then, Walt. I’ll be back, bright and early Monday morning.” He glanced at his watch, and she knew the meeting was over.

  As Linny walked out of the lobby into the sauna of the summer morning, she wondered how long Annalise would take to reclaim her office, and felt herself get even hotter.

  Linny made a terse call to her sister to tell her she was picking up the puppy early. Her hands trembled on the wheel, as she reviewed every nuance of the conversation with Walt, looking for clues. He’d said it was just time off, but was it more than that?

  By the time she’d pulled up at her sister’s house, she’d worked herself into a state. In the front yard, a barefoot Kate clapped as Roy pulled one end of a knotted rope, and Delilah pulled the other. When she saw Linny, she whistled at the dogs in a piercing whewt-whew. The dogs trotted over. Head cocked, she walked toward the driveway.

  Linny had barely stepped from the car when she called out, “Kate, they sent me home.”

  “Good,” Kate chirped. “You need it.” She picked up Roy and held him in her arms.

  “The new hire is ruining my life. She’s sucking up to Walt, and he’s probably plotting an exit strategy for me.” She groaned as she sat down heavily in a porch rocker.

  “Any basis for that little theory?” Kate handed the pup to Linny.

  “Not really.” But she told Kate about Annalise’s behavior and her big blab.

  “You were just being honest, and she sounds like an arrogant young woman.” Kate put her hands on her hips. “Are you going to worry for the next four days?”

  “I’d planned on it,” Linny admitted sheepishly, as she stroked Roy’s coat.

  “Well, don’t,” Kate urged. “Work on the trailer. Physical work always helps me when I worry.”