wound up in lost and found—” Kevin held up his hands at her expression. “At least they’re clean. We ran them through the laundry.”
Do not bite his head off, Liza reminded herself. He’s trying to help you .
She finally spoke up. “I’ve got another expansion idea for you—call it The Shops at Killamook Inn. We need a lingerie store, maybe a nice sportswear boutique—men’s and women’s . . .”
Kevin laughed. Then he stopped, a faraway look in his eyes. “You know,” he said, “that’s not such a bad idea, when you think about it . . .”
Liza sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Kevin’s SUV, pulling the yellow slicker around herself. I leave my house in my nicest outfit, she fumed silently. And I come home—well, look at me .
Kevin had turned up another pair of galoshes, and she was wearing four pairs of socks to bulk up her feet so the damned things would fit. She had a pair of sweatpants that were too big, and a mismatched sweatshirt that was too small. As for lingerie, she was wearing a pair of boy’s Jockey shorts that felt kind of peculiar.
When they turned onto Hackleberry Avenue, she gave a sigh of relief. Soon she’d be home, free to take another shower and get into her own clothes . . . They crunched their way through the snowdrift blocking the end of Liza’s driveway, and Liza suddenly yelled, “Stop!”
Kevin braked heavily, jolting them to a halt. “What’s the matter?”
“I just saw Mrs. H. at her door. She had a shovel.” Liza pointed to her next-door neighbor’s house, where Mrs. Halvorsen was already starting work on the pathway to the sidewalk.
“Kevin,” Liza said, “she’s not a young woman.”
“We’re not exactly kids ourselves,” Kevin told her. “And from the way you were talking the other day, I bet she probably can’t even afford the ten dollars she used to give me for the job when I was seventeen.” Still, he sighed, went to the back of his big behemoth, and dug out a shovel.
Liza followed him, moving more clumsily in her improvised footwear. “Mrs. H.!” she called. “Let us give you a hand with that! Are you okay?”
“Oh, we had no trouble around here. We had electricity and everything.” The older woman glanced at Kevin and then at Liza’s outfit. “I hear that power was off at the inn.”
“A lot of things were off at the inn,” Liza told her.
“I was just going to dig my way over to see how Rusty was doing,” Mrs. H. said.
“Oh, that would be far too much,” Liza replied. They were already at the sidewalk now, and Kevin had begun to wield his shovel.
“Speaking of too much,” he muttered, “do you know how many middle-aged men die of heart attacks from shoveling snow?”
“You’re not middle-aged,” Liza told him.
“I guess that will have to sustain me,” he puffed as he worked. “Of course, if I’d known I’d be doing this, I might not have had eggs, bacon, and sausage for breakfast.”
Liza made her way across the virgin snow to Mrs. H. Taking the woman’s shovel, she set to work, soon meeting Kevin halfway. Then they started scraping their way over to Liza’s house.
Rusty reacted to their arrival in much the same way that settlers in circled wagons greeted the cavalry riding in during an Indian attack. Happy barks echoed around the house, and his circles turned into arabesques when he saw Kevin and Mrs. H.—two of his favorite humans.
Checking in the kitchen, Liza saw that the dog hadn’t gorged himself on the supplies she’d left, had done his business on the newspapers, and that a red-furred shadow had appeared beside her, expectantly looking up at the jar of doggie treats. “Here you go, you fraud.” Liza opened the jar and gave him a treat.
“Really, you spoil that dog, dear,” Mrs. H. reproved as she sneaked another treat to Rusty. He circled both of them and then went to Kevin, hoping for a trifecta.
“Hey, guy, I bet you need to go out, don’t you?”
Kevin’s words
Do not bite his head off, Liza reminded herself. He’s trying to help you .
She finally spoke up. “I’ve got another expansion idea for you—call it The Shops at Killamook Inn. We need a lingerie store, maybe a nice sportswear boutique—men’s and women’s . . .”
Kevin laughed. Then he stopped, a faraway look in his eyes. “You know,” he said, “that’s not such a bad idea, when you think about it . . .”
Liza sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Kevin’s SUV, pulling the yellow slicker around herself. I leave my house in my nicest outfit, she fumed silently. And I come home—well, look at me .
Kevin had turned up another pair of galoshes, and she was wearing four pairs of socks to bulk up her feet so the damned things would fit. She had a pair of sweatpants that were too big, and a mismatched sweatshirt that was too small. As for lingerie, she was wearing a pair of boy’s Jockey shorts that felt kind of peculiar.
When they turned onto Hackleberry Avenue, she gave a sigh of relief. Soon she’d be home, free to take another shower and get into her own clothes . . . They crunched their way through the snowdrift blocking the end of Liza’s driveway, and Liza suddenly yelled, “Stop!”
Kevin braked heavily, jolting them to a halt. “What’s the matter?”
“I just saw Mrs. H. at her door. She had a shovel.” Liza pointed to her next-door neighbor’s house, where Mrs. Halvorsen was already starting work on the pathway to the sidewalk.
“Kevin,” Liza said, “she’s not a young woman.”
“We’re not exactly kids ourselves,” Kevin told her. “And from the way you were talking the other day, I bet she probably can’t even afford the ten dollars she used to give me for the job when I was seventeen.” Still, he sighed, went to the back of his big behemoth, and dug out a shovel.
Liza followed him, moving more clumsily in her improvised footwear. “Mrs. H.!” she called. “Let us give you a hand with that! Are you okay?”
“Oh, we had no trouble around here. We had electricity and everything.” The older woman glanced at Kevin and then at Liza’s outfit. “I hear that power was off at the inn.”
“A lot of things were off at the inn,” Liza told her.
“I was just going to dig my way over to see how Rusty was doing,” Mrs. H. said.
“Oh, that would be far too much,” Liza replied. They were already at the sidewalk now, and Kevin had begun to wield his shovel.
“Speaking of too much,” he muttered, “do you know how many middle-aged men die of heart attacks from shoveling snow?”
“You’re not middle-aged,” Liza told him.
“I guess that will have to sustain me,” he puffed as he worked. “Of course, if I’d known I’d be doing this, I might not have had eggs, bacon, and sausage for breakfast.”
Liza made her way across the virgin snow to Mrs. H. Taking the woman’s shovel, she set to work, soon meeting Kevin halfway. Then they started scraping their way over to Liza’s house.
Rusty reacted to their arrival in much the same way that settlers in circled wagons greeted the cavalry riding in during an Indian attack. Happy barks echoed around the house, and his circles turned into arabesques when he saw Kevin and Mrs. H.—two of his favorite humans.
Checking in the kitchen, Liza saw that the dog hadn’t gorged himself on the supplies she’d left, had done his business on the newspapers, and that a red-furred shadow had appeared beside her, expectantly looking up at the jar of doggie treats. “Here you go, you fraud.” Liza opened the jar and gave him a treat.
“Really, you spoil that dog, dear,” Mrs. H. reproved as she sneaked another treat to Rusty. He circled both of them and then went to Kevin, hoping for a trifecta.
“Hey, guy, I bet you need to go out, don’t you?”
Kevin’s words
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