Page 41 of Just a Plot Twist
My plan is going fine until I catch a glimpse of Claire across the way, limping as she carries a big box along the perimeter of the ballroom. I excuse myself from the Schillers and rush to catch up.
“Is that wise? Especially with those shoes?” I say when I reach her, glancing down at her ankle wrapped with a thin layer of white athletic tape. Hey, at least she matches the color vibe.
“These shoes? They’re practically flats!”
“They’re not flats. I distinctly see a heel.”
I know this because as she stood near the entrance, leaning against that column like an ad for a dress company, I took a moment to appreciate everything about how she looked.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s fine. As long as you’re here to carry me out of here if needed, I’ll be A-OK” She gives a tinkling laugh. “Did you video chat with Dax and Indie before you came?”
When we were texting this past week, I told her my kids were going out of town, but we’d video chat every day.
“Yes, but can I help you with the box?”
She’s hobbling. Obviously in pain.
She cuts me a look. “I have to hand it to the event planner real quick.”
I remove the box from her arms and hold it as we walk. “It’s painful to watch.”
“It’s painful to watch what?”
“You trying to walk without crutches.”
She shakes her head but then bites back a smile. Once we track down the event planner and hand over the box—Claire says they’re full of party favors that will be handed out at the end—we stand at the perimeter of the ballroom.
She motions to the display through the open doorway. “Aren’t they beautiful?” she croons. The swans are in a large tank, swimming around peacefully. Their long necks curve and posture.
“You pulled it off,” I remark and catch her smile growing.
“There were many doubters, but Claire Lawson got ’er done.”
“Are your grandparents happy about the swans?”
“They will be when they see them,” she says.
“Well, everything turned out great.”
“It did. I had my doubts about her vision for all the white. But it’s not bad.” She glances around the room, her eyes taking in the glittering lights and soft glow from the white fixtures and features everywhere.
“How are Dax and Indie?” she asks.
“They’re having fun. But they were far more interested in me showing them Cinnamon than in talking about the trip.”
“Will I ever get to meet your dog?” Claire whispers. She and I are tucked into a corner. We’re supposed to be listening to some people on the stage who are taking turns speaking about Claire’s grandparents.
“I don’t know because as soon as my landlady gets back from her trip, she’ll take the dog back.”
I finally installed one of those temporary doggie doors on my sliding glass back door. She’s still high maintenance. It’s still a huge pain to lift her up into the bathtub and help her drink.
She’s the worst, okay?
But I guess it’s nice to have some company at my place during the week.
“I bet the landlady appreciates you.”
“Technically, Cinnamon isn’t hers. She belongs to my neighbor, Reggie. Well, former neighbor. He had to go into a care center and they don’t take dogs.”
