by Susan Schild
Website finished & up. LMK what you think.
Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she hurried to her laptop and went to the URL he gave her. With the content she’d emailed him, he’d promised her a site that looked professional and straightforward and showcased her experience. She couldn’t wait to see what he came up with.
She drew in her breath sharply. Instead of the professional headshot she’d sent him, Dare had used a photo from a long-ago girl’s weekend at the beach with Mary Catherine. In it, Linny wore a floppy hat, huge movie star sunglasses, and a cheesy grin as she toasted the photographer. Wearing a black bikini top with her shorts, she held aloft a fruity drink topped by a paper umbrella. Her heart hammered. Despite Dare’s recent show of maturity, he was still only nineteen, the age of bad judgment and drunken bike accidents. “Oh, my Lord,” she gasped, covering her face with her hands. Trying to hold onto her cheerful, positive attitude while she pictured stabbing him with a pencil, Linny punched in his number.
“Yo, Linny,” he said, in a laid-back voice.
Her voice trembled. “Dare, tell me you sent me a mock-up and not the actual website. Promise me that picture is not online somewhere.”
After a pause, Dare guffawed with laughter. “Don’t worry, Linny. I was messing with you. I found that old picture in Mom’s files, but that shot’s not really posted on the website. Just joshing you.”
She exhaled, her legs and arms feeling weak as water. “Remind me to pummel you next time I see you.”
“Imagine your real headshot in there, and check it out. Call me later, when you’ve chillaxed, and we can hook you up with all the social media.”
“You’re a rat, Dare.” But she grinned as she said it. Averting her eyes from the photo, Linny sighed with relief as she read the copy and admired the clear, modern-looking layout. He’d done a fantastic job.
The phone rang and her heart bumped in her chest when she saw the caller ID: Raleigh Hospital. Frightening images flashed through her mind—Kate lying on the kitchen floor groaning, Jerry clutching his chest with one hand and a cheeseburger with the other, Dottie’s Buick wrapped around a telephone pole, steam coming from the engine. She snatched up the phone. “This is Linny.”
“It’s Amy Sanders,” the caller rasped. “From the Women’s Networking Group.”
She exhaled. “Amy. Hey there.” She raked her fingers through her hair, weak with relief. “The phone says Raleigh Hospital.”
“That’s where I am.”
“Oh gosh. Are you okay?” She’d met Amy for coffee last week to get her ideas about how to jump start her business.
Amy gave a racking, phlegmy cough. “I’ve got pneumonia and they won’t let me out of here for a few days. I’m supposed to teach a two-day management training class in California on Monday and Tuesday of this coming week, and I’ll still be too sick to go. I can’t cancel. Can you do it for me?”
Linny paused, her mind speeding. “I can.”
“Good,” she wheezed. “The class is at Reynolds Jones Technology, a small software company near San Diego. You can teach from my materials. I’ll email you the course and instructor’s notes. The client picks up all expenses, and I’ll pay you as well.”
The sum she mentioned made Linny lean back in her chair and put her hand to her mouth in quiet elation. Two days substituting for Amy would pay her more than two weeks at her old job. Wow. She made herself refocus and scratch down notes as Amy rattled off more instructions. “Thanks for thinking of me, Amy. Let me look over all the materials, and I’ll call you tomorrow with questions.”
“Good,” she rasped.
“I won’t let you down,” Linny promised, and ended the call, feeling both thrilled and paralyzed with self-doubt. Of course she might let Amy down. Four years had passed since she’d led the kind of training Amy asked her to deliver, and she didn’t know the material. She’d better bone up, and fast. Glancing at the clock, she calculated how much time she had to prepare. If she studied the material for the next two days and on the flight out Sunday, she’d be ready. She could do it, she decided with a nod. Next—logistics.
Linny grabbed the notepad to start her list. Nibbling on her pen, she felt a surge of adrenaline and began to scribble. First, she needed to do research on the company. She needed a map of the area, directions to the client site, a flight, hotel, and rental car . . .
Roy gnawed at her ankle and, as Linny absent-mindedly pushed him away, it dawned on her that she’d have to make arrangements for him, too. Cupping his head, she gazed into the warm chocolate color of his eyes, “Buddy, do you want to go visit your cousins Duke and Delilah?”
Picking up the phone, she dialed her sister and grinned as she gave her the news.
“That’s terrific.” Kate sounded delighted. “This is how it all begins—the first gig for Linny’s Big Time Independent Consulting Business.”
Linny grinned, but cautioned her. “Just because I got lucky substituting for Amy doesn’t mean I’m on Easy Street. She got the business, not me.”
“I know, but it’s still a big deal,” her sister insisted. “You are out there on your own, not under the umbrella of a big company. Remember, it’s how Jerry started his business—subcontracting for other guys.”
“I’m thrilled,” Linny admitted. “Scared out of my wits, but thrilled.”
“I wish we could help with Roy, but we’ll be at the beach for a little getaway. Maybe Mama could help, and if she can’t, you could board him at the vet’s.”
As she studied flight times on the airline sites, her phone rang.
Her mother warbled, “Hi, dear. Do you have time to stop by for a few minutes?”
“Sure.” Good—it was a perfect time to ask her mother to keep Roy.
Her mother giggled.
Linny froze. Dottie was not a giggler. Had the evening of true confessions sent her off the deep end? “Mama? You okay, Mama?”
“There’s someone I want you to meet.” Dottie made a loud whispered aside to someone. “Curtis, now you behave yourself.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.” Throwing her bag over her shoulder, Linny raced out the door, slowing only slightly to call Kate back. When her sister didn’t pick up, she left a hurried message. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I think Mama’s got herself a boyfriend named Curtis. He sounds frisky.” She gulped, adding, “I’ll call you as soon as I get the 9-1-1.” Just as she was about to push the end button, she hurriedly added, “I mean the 4-1-1.”
Skidding the car into the driveway, she took a deep breath, and tried to stay calm. Mama hadn’t ever dated since Daddy died, and said things like, “Why in the world would I marry again? I don’t want a man rambling around the house, getting in the way, and telling me what to do.” Her pulse quickened. Maybe he was a gigolo she’d met at church, or some recently widowed man who wanted a woman to take care of him as he moved into the Depends stage of life. Maybe this was an opportunistic young man who’d heard that her mother was a Ms. Moneybags and wanted a sugar mama. Over Linny’s dead body would another man treat her mother shabbily. Dottie had served her time with Boyd. She chugged up the steps, and gave the door a firm, staccato rap.
“Coming,” her mother trilled.
Good lord. It was worse than she thought. Dottie sounded almost girlish. When her mother swung open the door, Linny braced herself for the worst. “Hey, Mama,” she said, trying to sound casual, as she noticed her mother’s hair was pulled back with an indigo blue chiffon scarf tied into a bow. She looked pretty—very early Lucy Ricardo.
“Come in, come in.” Her mother’s eyes danced and she swirled around, looking back to the living room. “I couldn’t wait for you to meet this fellow.” She called, “Curtis, sugar, come meet Linny.”
Linny’s mouth dropped open, as she watched what looked like a small horse stroll toward her. Peering more closely, she saw that Curtis was a Great Dane. She could swear the lanky giant smiled at her, and with every tail wag cleared another surface of
knick-knacks.
Dottie clasped her hands together delightedly, laughed out loud and said in an indulgent tone, “Naughty boy, Curtis.”
Finally done gaping, Linny stammered, “So, Curtis is a dog, not a man.”
Her mother’s brows knit for a moment, just a passing cloud on a brilliant sunshiny day. “Of course he’s a dog. And he’s mine.” She beckoned Linny to follow her into the living room.
Linny looked in the giant dog’s gentle eyes, stroked him, and followed her mother. “He’s very handsome. I didn’t know you wanted a dog.”
Dottie slid into her recliner, and kissed the top of Curtis’s head. “I’ve always wanted a dog, but your daddy wouldn’t let me get one. He said animals were too much work. Not that he’d have been the one doing the work,” she muttered. As she pulled the lever on her chair and reclined, Curtis sat beside her and rested his head on her lap, and gazed at her adoringly. Dottie cooed at him, and leveled a gaze at Linny. “So, this is how it started. After we . . . talked this week, I did something. I decided my best friends needed to know, and told Ruby and Dessie the truth about my marriage to your daddy, about that woman and everything.”
Linny stood there, blinking. This was big. Her mother always painted a pretty picture about her family to the outside world, even to her two oldest friends. “How did that go?”
“They were kind.” She put her hands on her chest and raised them up. “This heaviness got lifted from my heart when I finally told those secrets I’d been carrying around. I might talk about it to the Sisters of Dorcas next week, too. If you can’t talk to your ladies’ prayer group about such things, who can you tell?”
“I’m so glad, Mama,” Linny said softly, feeling her eyes sting. Secrets were a terrible burden to bear. She remembered how alone she’d felt when she had suspicions about Buck’s infidelity.
Dottie smiled. “So, back to how I came by this dog. I was at a yard sale last Saturday, and the couple who held it had been taking care of Curtis for their son who was in Iraq. He was supposed to be back in mid-October, but was worried about not finding any work and signed on for more duty overseas. His daddy just had a stroke, and his Mama said she told her son she couldn’t handle taking care of a big dog and a sick man. She said it broke his heart, but he said she needed to give him to the pound.” Dottie shook her head. “I thought about it and prayed about it, and it came to me this morning. Just as clear as a bell, I heard a voice saying, ‘Dottie, go get that dog.’ ” She gave a proud smile. “So I just got right in the car, drove back to the yard sale house, and told that lady I wanted Curtis.”
Thoughts raced through Linny’s mind. The big dog was so impractical for the cramped, cluttered house. Could her mother handle all that went into caring for the big dog—making sure he got enough exercise, got him trained? First, she takes in a stray that needs rescuing, then her mother does. Were they turning into those worn-out women who gave up on men? Was a house teeming with cats next? But seeing Dottie’s joy as she stroked Curtis’s handsome head, her heart softened. Maybe they were just both ready for love. Pushing away her doubts, she leaned forward, and smiled. “I’m happy for you, Mama. I know a good vet . . .”
On Sunday morning, Linny raced around to finish packing, and at noon, led Roy out to the car. A knot formed in her stomach. This would be his first overnight away, and she was going to miss him. She’d not asked Dottie to take care of him with her new charge, but had learned that Red Oak did boarding, too. Thank goodness. As she pointed the car toward the vet clinic, she kept up a string of soothing chatter to the dog in the back seat. “I’ll just be gone a few days, and you’ll have lots of other doggies to play with. It’ll be like camp, with games and playtime . . .”
But Roy just yawned noisily, and closed his eyes.
Linny shook her head. So much for the separation anxiety she’d read about online. Some dogs intuited when their owners were going out of town without them and started howling as soon as the suitcases came out. Linny glanced in the mirror and grinned. Roy was snoozing with his head resting on her roller bag. He’d be fine.
Linny still wasn’t entirely confident of the program she’d present the next day, and nervously reviewed the sequence of the class in her head as she pulled into the Animal Hospital parking lot.
Inside, Ruthie smiled at Linny as she took the leash. “Where are you off to, Linny? Some place exciting?” She raised her eyebrows Groucho Marx style.
Busy pulling Roy’s favorite blanket and pink stuffed lamb from a bag, Linny was distracted as she replied. “No, I’ve got work in California.”
“You’re leaving town?” The receptionist frowned, her brows knit in concern.
“Yup,” Linny responded absent mindedly, wondering if she’d remembered to pack her sleep mask and mouth guard. “Kate will pick him up on Wednesday.” Linny would be home late, and couldn’t bear to be away from Roy one night more than she had to.
“We’ll sure miss you.” Ruthie looked genuinely distressed. “We’ve enjoyed working with you.”
Linny was wondering if she’d missed something conversationally when her phone rang and she saw Amy’s number. All morning, the hoarse-voiced woman had peppered her with calls, conveying last minute details. Rubbing Roy’s velvety ears she gave him one more kiss. She gave a finger wave to Ruthie, put the phone to her ear and hurried to the car.
Monday morning, Linny looked at the eighteen managers seated in the conference room, blanched inwardly and felt the stomach grab she experienced before every training class she’d ever taught. She knew she was rusty, and teaching a class from another instructor’s materials was trickier than teaching from her own familiar material.
After introducing herself and listening to their introduction, Linny glanced down at the notes she’d made in Amy’s instruction guide, and broke into a sweat, realizing she didn’t know what the words meant. Her brain was on lockdown. What in the world was she doing up here in front of a group of very smart people presenting herself as an independent consultant? To hide the trembling of her hands, she gripped her laptop and glanced at it unseeingly. Fighting panic as bad as that which had almost paralyzed her after she’d buried Andy, she breathed in and out slowly. It was no use. Her mind raced in circles, and she couldn’t remember her carefully rehearsed opening to the class.
Chairs squeaked, and participants’ raised brows of pleasant expectancy changed to lowered brows of concern and annoyance. A few whispered to one another. The goateed man in the front row looked disgusted, and made a show of taking out his laptop and started to tap away. Linny floated somewhere above the room, watched in horror as she screwed up her very first class as an independent trainer.
Andy’s voice came to her as clearly as if he was standing right beside her, not a thousand miles and several time zones away in heaven. “Slow down, girl. Be yourself.” Clearing her throat, Linny felt all eyes on her, and stammered as she began. “Uh . . . um . . . I’d like to start by telling you about my new puppy.”
Participants cast nervous glances at one another. Goatee Man rolled his eyes.
“Last week, I ran to the grocery store for thirty minutes and left the puppy in the kitchen with a baby gate blocking the doorway. When I came home, he’d chewed up two chair legs and made a good start on tearing down the wallpaper.” The knot in her stomach started to loosen. “I went online for articles about managing problem behaviors in dogs. An expert trainer said that with a chewer, you need to roll up a newspaper . . .” Linny rolled up a USA Today she’d picked up at the hotel, and lightly tapped it on her head. “. . . and hit yourself, because you aren’t supervising the puppy well enough.”
People smiled, and nodded. Feeling her confidence flicker back to life, she glanced around the room, meeting participants’ eyes. “Do any of you have employees who aren’t motivated?” Many nodded. “How about ones who don’t finish projects on time? Any have employees who don’t learn from mistakes?” Hands went up. “You might think you have problem performers, but some employee
s don’t perform well because you—their managers—aren’t supervising them properly.” She held up the newspaper. “If you aren’t clear about expectations. . . if you don’t communicate well . . . if you don’t give feedback about performance, you are creating problem performers.”
Many managers nodded, and Goatee Man folded his laptop closed.
“By the end of this program, you’ll be more skillful managers, with new tools in your toolbox for improving the performance of those you lead. Let’s get started.” Linny pulled up her first slide and smiled. She was going to be fine.
Linny wrapped up the program on Tuesday afternoon, watching the group as they worked on an exercise. She gave a deep, contented sigh. In a quiet way, she felt sky high. This was her Sweet Dream job. She was exactly where she was supposed to be, teaching people how to draw the best from others. Silently, she sent up thank yous. Thank you, Andy, for talking me off the ledge. Thank you for always believing in me and staying with me. Thank you, whoever’s on the request line for sending me such a clear message about this being the work I’m supposed to be doing right now in my life, and sending me Amy with the opportunity. I won’t let any of you down, she promised. Linny smiled slowly, feeling engaged and alive.
After the long flight home Wednesday, Linny unlocked the door to her cool, quiet trailer, and it felt like a sanctuary. She breathed a sigh of relief. She was home, and she’d done well. Roy yipped his hellos to her from his crate in the bedroom. Hurrying back to see him, she pulled the latch, the ecstatic puppy exploded out like he’d been spring-loaded. She laughed delightedly as he danced into her lap, licked her face and playfully bit at her hair.
Gradually, the puppy settled down. Linny made quick work of unpacking, and poured herself a glass of wine. Pulling the cell from her bag, she checked messages and she saw she had two new ones since she’d landed.
Kate’s message made her smile. “Welcome home, sweets. I picked Roy up for you this afternoon, and Ruthie said he did great with all the other dogs. We’re so excited about the baby barbecue this weekend. Let Jerry and I pick you up. We can get there early—say around three—to help Mama finish getting ready. Jerry says this message is too long. I’ve missed you!”