Page 35 of Mistletoe Misses
“Let me rephrase. She’s expecting you now.”
“Nana,” I protest pointlessly. When she sets her mind to something, there’s no changing it.
“Go on and meet Trixie before you get too dirty. I promise to stay out of your way for the rest of the day.”
I’ll believe that when I see it. “Fine, but I’m going to hold you to that promise. Staying out of my way also means no complaining where I can hear you. That’s just as disruptive.”
“No promises.” She winks and goes back to her ancient way of bookkeeping—on paper in a ratty, old three-ring binder.
I’ll tackle that issue later. Rolling my eyes, I forego the coat hanging on the door upstairs and head for the truck.
“Text me the address,” I call and step outside.
???
“Maddox, it’s so good to see you again,” Nana’s best friend greets after opening the door.
Her dark gray hair is full of haphazardly placed curlers and only the left side of her makeup has been done. I usually wouldn’t notice something like that, but she applies eyeshadow like it’s 1980. Her bright pink tennis skirt and yellow and white-striped T-shirt match the eccentric personality I remember from my childhood. She’s hard to miss and even harder to forget.
A tiny white snowball of a dog sits snug in the crook of her bony arm as she pulls me in for a hug. She’s stronger than she looks and knocks the air out of my lungs.
“Hi, Ms. Dottie. Nana didn’t tell me it was you I’d be meeting.” That withheld detail kicks my suspicion meter up a few notices. “How have you been?”
“Seventy is the new forty, and I’m living it up.”
“As you should be.”
“Come in, come in.” She clutches my bicep with her free hand and urges me inside, transporting us to a tropical destination. Sand and ocean wallpaper, beachy decorations, and equally high air temperature assault and confuse my winterized system. No wonder she’s dressed for summer instead of Vermont’s freezing December weather. But that’s Dottie for you—always contradicting the norm. Sweat begins to bead on my back, and I’m glad I didn’t wear my coat. It must be ninety degrees in here.
“Can I get you anything?”
A fan, an open window, an ice bucket to dip my face into. “No thanks.”
We walk through the beach into another contradictory room. Colorful flowers and plants cover every surface, cascade over the tops of cabinets, and hang from the ceiling. It would be easy to lose Trixie in here, and I make a mental note of it. I hope she doesn’t expect me to keep this rainforest alive too while she’s gone. My thumb is as brown as they come.
“You’re very handsome.” She smiles over her shoulder as she removes a cup from the cabinet and sets it on the counter. “Ialways knew you would be. Your grandfather was the sexiest man in town back in the day.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that. “Uh, thanks?”
“I tried to catch his attention in high school, but he only had eyes for Lily. That also runs in your family.”
What the hell? I know everyone knows my history, but does it have to be brought up everywhere I go?
“Anyhoo. I appreciate you helping me with Trixie. I tried everything I could to take her with me, but my granddaughter is highly allergic to dog hair. If I want to see her, we must make this sacrifice.” She kisses Trixie’s little head, making the dog’s tail wiggle with delight. “We haven’t been apart since I brought her home.”
“I’ll take good care of her. When should I stop by to feed her and let her out?”
Dottie’s eyes widen as she stares at me. It goes on so long I start to panic. Is she having a stroke?
“Ms. Dottie?”
“Maddox.” Her free hand pats against her protruding collarbone like she’s counting the beats to a song, tears building and threatening to spill. “Trixie needs constant companionship.”
“She does? Nana said this was a check in on her when needed situation.”
“Lily knows better, and I gave her four pages of detailed instructions to pass along to you. I thought you were here to pick her up.”
Nowmyheart is playing a heavy metal drum solo, banging itself against my sternum. I can’t dog-sit 24/7. The last thing I need is something dependent on me for survival. I have things to do and my own flailing life to worry about.
