Page 37 of Pickled
He nodded. “You’ve got a great friend here.” He patted Lisa’s hand. “Good night, you two. Piper, you know where we keep the car keys. You can borrow any of ours for as long as you need it.” He didn’t wait for me to protest and went back into the main house.
“That’s a great boss,” Lisa said.
“We are very lucky.” For the third time that day, I started to appreciate my ordinary little life a bit more. I also knew that I would never borrow one of Mr. L’s cars.
The interior lights came on as Olive hopped out of the car.
“Wait up!” I shouted as she ran to the stairs.
“I can’t wait to see Pussy.” She let herself into the house.
Lisa shook her head. “Promise me one thing, Piper.”
When would she let this go? “I’m not going to ask Gid—” I stopped myself from saying his name. “I’m not going to ask my one-night stand how he feels about kindergarten drop-off.”
Lisa’s laugh shook the car. “That’s not what I was going to say—you already know how I feel about that. Please—” She paused dramatically. “—don’t let that kid name anything ever again.”
I wanted to tell Lisa about the whole missing cat expedition with Gideon, but the sooner I forgot about it, the better. “Trust me, I learned my lesson on that one.”
“What’s in the envelope?”
I’d already forgotten about the mystery package with the feminine handwriting. I tore it open and gasped.
“What is it?” Lisa’s eyes widened.
I held up the glossy tickets. “Two tickets to the Miami Barracudas’ game tomorrow night.” It looked like forgetting about Gideon Bailey wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d planned.
Lisa scrunched up her face. “The Barracuda game? Like hockey?” She snatched the envelope from my hands. “Who left these for you?” Her eyes scanned the tickets, then met mine. “These are really good seats, Pipes.”
“I don’t know.” Was that a lie? It had to have been Gideon, but the swirly, feminine handwriting was throwing me off. Or maybe the guy was really into penmanship—he did read cozy mysteries, after all.
Lisa flipped the tickets over and shook the envelope, as though an answer to the mystery would slip onto her lap. When nothing happened, she tucked the tickets back inside and handed the envelope to me.
I didn’t take it.
“Do you want them?” My hands remained in my lap, the envelope in hers. “You can have them.”
If Olive hadn’t been sitting in the car, her eyes darting between us, Lisa would’ve pressed me for more information. Her eyes searched mine while the envelope remained in her hand. “What do you say, Olive? Do you want to go watch a hockey game with your mom tomorrow night?” She set the envelope on my bare thigh, where the coffee droplets had left tender red spots.
Olive opened the back door, the overhead light brightening her face. “Do I have to?”
“See?” I got out of the car and left the tickets on the seat. “Olive doesn’t want to go.”
“Penney!” Olive darted down the driveway as Mrs. L.and her apricot teacup poodle pranced up the driveway.
Grateful for the distraction, I got out of the car and waved to Mrs. Lockelhurst. “What are you two doing walking so late?”
She laughed. “Penney’s paws have been getting more sensitive. The vet suggested walking her when the pavement isn’t so hot. I didn’t mean to be out past dark though.” She glanced at her blinged-out Rolex.
“You don’t have to be scared of the dark, Mrs. L.” Olive squatted to pat the old poodle’s tearstained face. She was missing most of her teeth and was probably cute ten years ago, but now, she had a face that only Mrs. L—and Olive—could love. “There’s nothing scary out there.”
“I know, sweetheart.” Mrs. L smiled as she watched Olive pat her dog. “But Penney can’t see very well in the best of light.”
Without taking her eyes off the dog, Olive continued petting her. “Well, what’s the big deal, then? If she’s out in the dark, does she even know it’s dark?” Olive looked up at her.
Mrs. L cackled. “From the mouths of babes.”
Olive shot me a look that said,I’m not a baby, but she didn’t say anything.
