YWCA luncheon I attended a few months ago. She’s an unlikely-looking CEO, but she’s also a pistol and very, very impressive.”
“I guess I’ll be meeting her in person tomorrow,” I said.
“When you do,” Mel advised, “here’s a word to the wise. Rachel may belong to that group commonly referred to as little people, but the terminology she prefers, as clarified in her speech, is dwarf.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “I’ll be sure to mind my verbal p’s and q’s.”
I spent some time on my iPad making a to-do list for the following morning, and Rachel Seymour’s name was on the top line. Next up was a visit to the County Clerk’s Office to find out whether or not Agnes Mayfield’s will had been probated. Third came a necessary visit to the King County Medical Examiner’s Office for a bit of DNA-profiling advice. Once those items were handled, it remained to be seen if an attempted visit to that all-female homeless camp would be in order.
After I’d laid out a mental itinerary for the following day, I worked a few crosswords to let off steam. I had just plugged the iPad in to charge overnight when Lucy stood up, walked over to my chair, and gave me “the look” that meant it was time for her last walk of the evening.
“Okay, girl,” I told her. “Let’s go.”
It was a quick in and out. When we came back, I finished getting ready for bed. By lights-out once again Lucy was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t need to search the whole unit this time, because I knew exactly where she’d be—in the guest room, either next to the crib or under it. So I gathered up Lucy’s bed and carried it from my room into the guest room for her, a variation on a theme of the mountain moving to Muhammad.
Sure enough, there she was, curled up under the crib. When I shoved the bed under the crib with her, she climbed onto it and favored me with a grateful thump of her tail. Most people would tell you dogs can’t talk, but they’re wrong. That tail thump was the equivalent of a verbal thank-you if ever there was one.
Chapter 14
ATHENA WOKE ME UP A COUPLE OF TIMES OVERNIGHT, but both times I was able to go right back to sleep. Maybe I had adjusted to the new reality that there were other people—people who weren’t Mel—on the premises. When I woke up at 7:30 A.M., it was to the familiar aroma of bacon, eggs, and toast coming from an unfamiliar location—our condo’s kitchen. I donned my dog-walking duds before venturing out of the bedroom. Alan was standing at the stove wielding a spatula. When I reached for the dog leash, he stopped me.
“Don’t bother,” he said. “I already took Lucy out. Athena was asleep, and I figured the least I could do was make myself useful. The doorman showed us where we were supposed to go. I picked up after her and everything. I haven’t fed her, though. I didn’t know how much you give her. As for your eggs, how do you like them? I scrambled mine.”
“Over easy,” I told him, “if you don’t mind, that is.”
“Not at all.”
I dished up Lucy’s food and turned on the coffee machine. By the time my morning java had burbled into my cup, two more eggs were sizzling sunny-side up in the pan. When Alan flipped them gently with a flick of his wrist and without breaking either yolk, I was duly impressed.
“You’re pretty handy when it comes to rattling those pots and pans,” I commented as he expertly slid the eggs onto a waiting plate. “How’d you learn to do that? If I ever attempted that move, the eggs would end up either on the floor or the ceiling.”
“My mom cooked in a diner most of the time I was growing up,” Alan said. “She’s the one who taught me.”
“Is Marge coming over today?” I asked.
“Nope,” Alan said, buttering the toast. “I told her I thought I could handle it. After a couple nights of sleep, I’m feeling half human again.”
Alan added a piece of buttered toast and two perfectly done pieces of bacon alongside the eggs on our plates, and we settled in at the counter to eat.
“So what’s your plan for the day?” I asked.
“Athena’s due back over at Seattle Children’s for a checkup later this morning,” Alan told me. “Once that’s over, we’ll just hang out here, if that’s all