for tomorrow. I’d like to send flowers if that’s okay.”
“Let me get back to you on that,” Wendy said.
“That’s fine. Thank you for giving me the courtesy of a call.” Elaine replaced the phone in its cradle and let out a sigh so loud she startled herself. Talk about instant gratification.
Elaine was so giddy with the news she’d just heard, she picked up the wine bottle and brought it to her lips. She gulped until the bottle was empty. In a wild, crazy moment, she threw the bottle at the fireplace and watched it shatter. She fell back into the chair and closed her eyes. Overcome by the wine, she once again fell into a deep sleep.
As Elaine was drifting off to sleep, Gus Hollister was firing up his new grill on the deck. The rain, what there was of it, had come and gone, but it was too cool to eat outdoors. Wilson was panting at the scent of the marinating meat sitting on the counter.
“You’re doing the dishes, Wilson. I’m cooking, so that means you do the cleanup. We really should talk about the division of chores.” Gus had always talked to Wilson like this and hadn’t the slightest reason why. Wilson listened, then ignored him. Maybe it had something to do with living alone, or maybe it had something to do with Wilson’s being his best friend and a stand-in for Barney. He tried to remember if he’d talked to the dog like this when he lived with Elaine. Scratch that thought. He didn’t want to think about Elaine now or ever again.
Gus let his thoughts go to his grandmother and the aunts and the massive project they were involved in. He had to do something, come up with a working plan, before things collapsed on top of them. He was convinced in his own mind that it was just a matter of time before that happened. What was going on now was temporary and could not be sustained for any length of time. His thoughts were coming lightning fast as idea after idea popped into his head, only to be rejected. He wished Barney were here, with his analytical mind.
Gus checked his baking potatoes. Not done yet. Wilson wouldn’t care, but Gus cared; he liked his potatoes mushy and soft. Wilson just scarfed his down, along with the imitation bacon bits Gus sprinkled on his. He set the table and got Wilson’s plate ready. Man and dog. For now, he loved it.
The scent of the sizzling steak on the grill had Wilson dancing in circles. Steak night, his favorite night of the week.
Gus talked to the shepherd nonstop as he poured himself a beer, mixed his salad dressing, and checked the potatoes again. He was always chatty with his dog, but today he rather thought he was going overboard. Wilson must have thought so, too, because he kept looking up at him, wondering what was going on.
Gus knew what was bothering him even if he wouldn’t give voice to his thoughts—and it wasn’t his grandmother, his aunts, or Initial B Enterprises. He had to call Jill Jackson and invite her out to dinner. He had to make amends, and he had to do it as soon as possible, preferably before Barney returned tomorrow night. “It is what it is. You know that, Wilson.” Wilson barked to show he was in the game even though he didn’t understand what game, as he waited for his dinner.
An hour later, the kitchen tidy, Wilson out romping in the wet grass, Gus pulled out all his schedules and got to work at the kitchen table. He was going to get this right or die trying. He pushed all thoughts of Jill Jackson, Mickey Yee, and some scummy bastard spying on the seniors out of his mind as he set to work.
At eleven o’clock, his eyes heavy with grit, Gus called it a night. He let Wilson out one last time before trudging upstairs to his new bed. He was about to slip under the sheets when he looked down at Wilson’s bed. “You better find it now, Wilson, before I get in bed, because I’m not looking for your baby. Go get it! I’ll wait to turn off the light.”
He was, of course, referring to Wilson’s one-eared rabbit, which he’d had since puppyhood and which was the security blanket that he slept with curled under his chin. Wilson was back in a flash, the bedraggled one-eared rabbit clutched in his