Read Online The Lucky Dog Matchmaking Service by Beth Kendrick - Free Book Online Page A

look like you’ve been buried alive and were trying to dig yourself out.”
    “Hi, Mom.” Lara opened the driver’s-side door and braced herself for the worst. Justine called her exactly once a week, at precisely eight p.m. every Sunday evening. This never deviated, no matter what her mother was doing, or in which time zone she was doing it. Only a crisis—or, in this case, a code red fashion emergency—would warrant a weekday check-in.
    “And what on earth were you wearing ?” Her mother sounded personally offended. “Don’t you have access to an iron?”
    Lara kept her tone upbeat and tried to change the subject as quickly as possible. “How’s everything going with the build-out of the new salon?”
    “Listen to me.” Justine adopted the cajoling tone of a police negotiator trying to talk a jumper off a bridge. “I know you like to think of yourself as a tomboy, but at a certain age you have to put together a maintenance routine or you’ll simply decay .”
    Lara grabbed a tissue from the glove compartment and started swiping at the layer of dog hair on the dashboard. “No one was looking at me, Mom. They were looking at the dog.”
    “Don’t kid yourself. If you’re on TV, people are looking at you.” There was a faint sound of clacking computer keys on Justine’s end of the line. Clearly, her mother was multitasking. “But we’ll get through this. I’ve asked Jessica to come in early tomorrow and I’ve booked you for the works: brow wax, highlights, facial, manicure . . .”
    Lara grimaced. “I have to work tomorrow morning.”
    The keyboard clacking stopped. “You cannot possibly meet with potential clients looking like that.”
    “The dog world isn’t like the salon world. Most of the vet techs and clinic managers I meet with are even more low maintenance than I am.”
    “Your client can look as schlumpy as she wants. That’s her prerogative. You’re the one providing a service. You’re the one trying to sell something. So you’re the one who has to look polished and professional.”
    Lara had reached her limit. “Well, it’s been great catching up, but my other line’s beeping.”
    “Don’t you take another call when you’re on the phone with me,” Justine commanded. “That’s rude. Now. When’s the last time you had your upper lip waxed?”
    Lara lapsed into sullen adolescent monosyllables. “Don’t know.”
    “Your cuticles trimmed?”
    “Beats me.”
    “Your eyebrows shaped?”
    “Two days ago!” Lara lifted her head in triumph. “I tweezed them myself.”
    “Yourself?” Justine sighed. “Where have I gone wrong? I’d better ask Jessica and Diane to come in early.”
    With the way this conversation was going, Lara was going to tear out her hair before Justine’s staff had a chance to style it. “Mom, relax. It was just the local morning news. I’m not going on Good Morning America .”
    “And you never will, with that attitude. How many times do I have to tell you? Appearances matter . Even if you don’t care what you look like, other people do.”
    Lara refused to break the silence that followed. These long, loaded pauses were one of her mother’s most effective power plays, but she was not going to cave. Not this time.
    Finally Justine softened her tone. “Who would you rather contact about adopting a dog: a well-groomed young lady with a flattering haircut and a lovely outfit or a bushy-browed fashion victim with unfortunate pores?”
    Lara rolled her eyes. “I have to go to the salon for the rescue dogs is what you’re saying.”
    “Exactly. It’s a noble sacrifice for the greater good.”
    Her mother always had been a master of strategy. “Well, then . . . I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
    “Oh, I won’t be there—I have to fly to Los Angeles to meet with a team of potential investors. We’re talking about expanding into the Southern California market.”
    “Wait—then why am I doing this?” Lara asked. “I only agreed