it. She’d say, “Your own unique security system.” She thumped her finger on what was left of the castle’s turret and then looked at the time. A little after six o’clock.
Moving right along. The castles of England. Okay. She looked more closely at the photo of a big, brooding castle on a hill. Lark slammed the book shut. She’d never been good at killing time. It was much too valuable to waste. She just wasn’t used to getting ready for a date so early or fussing over anything.
In fact, so much of her career had come so easily, she’d let herself slide into a blithe approach to life. She wondered if the ease also allowed her to slip into foolhardiness when she wasn’t paying attention.
But this evening’s preparations had been anything but careless. She’d taken great pains in getting ready for what she hoped would be a perfect date with Everett. Like in a fairy tale, a classic evening they would never forget.
Ten
The phone rang, making her jump. Again. That’s it. I’m going to turn down the volume on that thing.
She decided not to rush to the phone but instead let the answering machine pick it up. But when she heard Skelly’s panic-stricken voice, she jumped up from the couch and sped to the phone. In doing so, her left heel caught on the hem of her gown. She knew she could either let it rip or fall hard on her hands and face. In a split second decision, she righted herself, letting the silk rip. What an unhappy sound. Lark cringed.
By the time she’d gotten to the phone, Skelly had hung up. But she’d heard enough of the dilemma. Her beloved pet, Picasso, was out on the loose again, like a fugitive duck, nourishing Skelly’s garden without his permission. Picasso was a true escape artist. She should have named him Houdini. Okay, so what could she do now?
Better assess the damage on my dress first. Not bad. Fortunately, she had some tiny safety pins to fix it with. As she reached into the kitchen junk drawer she got an idea. Just a little idea. But it had potential. I could just lift up my gown, go out on my driveway, and call to Picasso. I’ll bet I can get him to come back in with just a gentle reprimand.
Since she’d once shamed Picasso back into his pen with a shake of her finger and a scowl, she felt confident of her plan. She swung open the front door, and sure enough, there was Picasso happily scurrying away from Skelly as he tried to coax him in the other direction.
Okay, I can do this. Lark raised her skirts and headed outside, scuttling like a crab in her high heels. No need for a coat. She’d only be out for a minute.
Even though it was already dark outside, the streetlights illuminated the whole area. Once she’d made it to the end of her driveway, she decided to try the soft approach first. “Picassooo. Sweeety. Come on in now. You’ve had your fun outing.”
Picasso got one glance at Lark and headed toward Timbuktu. He quacked and waddled down the street so swiftly, he’d be out of sight before long. And just when I’m about to have the date of my life. Oh well, it can’t get any worse.
“Oh, all dressed up,” Skelly hollered. “Hate to get your pretty duds all messed up. I can chase after him.”
Skelly’s face appeared flushed as if he’d been trying to corral Picasso for some time.
“No, please don’t. You know what the doctor said about your heart.”
But in spite of her cautions to him, Skelly marched down the middle of the street, his elbows swinging as he called out Picasso’s name.
Then she remembered a trick she’d used with her first pet duck. Yes. She needed the convincing boom of the megaphone she’d used in her college cheerleading days. It was at least worth a try. She clattered on her heels back up to the house, found the megaphone on the bottom shelf of the entry closet, and clopped back down the driveway. Lark flipped the switch on the horn, and it squeaked to life. Suddenly like magic, she remembered the roar of the crowd from high
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