Her mother had two boyfriends? It was inconceivable! What the hell was Carly doing wrong? “Mom! Are you dating two men at the same time?”
Her mother laughed. “Well, look at you, keeping track of your dear old mother.”
“I’m not keeping track, I’m confused.”
“I told you, it’s called sexual liberation, my love,” her mother cheerfully announced.
“Hell, yeah,” Victor said, and held up his hand for a fist bump.
Her mother completely missed the gesture and popped a berry into her mouth. “Your father and I couldn’t fulfill each other—”
“Mom!”
Her mother glanced up, saw Carly’s expression, and popped two more berries into her mouth. “Sorry. So what are you two doing this morning?”
“I’m taking the red pieces out of my show,” Victor blithely announced.
“Thinking about it,” Carly amended.
“Doing it,” Victor countered.
“Pieces of what?” her mother asked.
“Pieces of fashion. Pieces of fashion from his big show in New York in a few weeks.”
“Well, I have to admit, red is not my favorite color in a garment,” her mother opined.
“Exactly,” Victor said, and looking at Carly, pointed his fork at her mother. “She understands.”
“She doesn’t understand.”
“What do I not understand?” her mother asked.
“The red pieces are the big finale of his show, Mom. I’ve had photos made to tease them and lined up media who are interested in his work. Couture magazine wants to do an article about them! There is a lot of interest in his designs, the red pieces in particular, and everyone is waiting for the big reveal. Which I’ve arranged.”
“Well, listen to you! That sounds so clever, honey.”
Carly pressed her lips together at that backhanded compliment to keep from saying something she’d regret. “But we really need to work this out, Mom, so maybe you could come back later?”
“Are you dismissing me?” she asked brightly. “That’s all right. I’m going over to the ACC to walk some dogs.”
“You could walk these two,” Carly suggested.
“No, thank you. I’m dressed for success and would prefer to be seen.” She laughed. “Don’t frown, sweetie. I read that is the number one cause of wrinkles around the lips. I never frown anymore. Goodbye, Victor! Don’t let her talk you into the red dresses!”
“I won’t,” Victor promised as her mother walked to the front door.
Carly heard the front door open.
“Carly, you might want to get that shoe away from whichever dog it is!” her mother called as she went out the door.
“What?” In her haste to rush into the hallway, Carly kicked a stool, and probably broke a toe, but she didn’t stop. Hazel was in the hallway with one of Carly’s good shoes between her paws. “No, no, no,” she cried, and lunged for the shoe. “Is one ruined pair not enough this morning?”
Hazel looked terribly pleased with herself, thumping her tail against the floor. Carly looked at the mangled heel on the shoe and sighed wearily. She was going to have to figure out how to close the door on her overstuffed closet and lock it. She glanced up and noticed the front door standing open. “Baxter?” She looked around her. No Baxter. “Victor, is Baxter in there?”
“Nope.”
“Baxter!” She dashed outside just in time to see Baxter’s tail disappearing over the hill and headed for Conrad’s garden. She raced after him. Hazel raced after her.
She did not reach Baxter in time to keep him from trampling through Conrad’s herb garden, but she managed to right some of the plants so it wasn’t obvious. She hoped. By the time she’d trotted Baxter and Hazel back to her house, and had put all of her shoes out of dogs’ reach, and had finished silently cursing her mother, who’d left the door open, and Victor, who had polished off the lasagna she’d made, Victor was ready to go.
“Man, you need, like, some help,” Victor said as he walked out the door.
“Wait, wait, wait, Victor! What about the red pieces? We should talk about this!”
“Listen, Carly. I know you’re, like, totally into the red. But I’ve made up my mind.” He walked out the door and got in his car and with a nonchalant wave he drove away, as if he hadn’t just brought her carefully crafted publicity plan crashing to the ground.
Carly had a very bad feeling about this. It felt like the tip of the proverbial iceberg, and she was the Titanic, sailing right into it. When she turned around to retreat into her house, she tripped over Hazel, who was standing right behind her. “Seriously?” she muttered, stepped