Linny's Sweet Dream List (16 page)

Linny blew out a sigh. “Tell me again why you're not a cynic about marriage?”

Looking serious, Mary Catherine said, “Every day I get reminded to put my shoulder into my marriage.” She glanced over at Linny. “I wouldn't wish it on anybody, but Mike's getting laid off made us stronger. We made it through some tough days.” Pausing, she looked out over the fields. “And Mike sees my best self and my crazy lady self, and still seems to love me. Go figure.”

“You love being married to Mike,” Linny said, nodding thoughtfully. “I felt that way about being married to Andy.” She pushed down a surge of sadness.

“I know, girl.” Mary Catherine touched her arm, and, for a moment, the only sounds were the soft thuds of their sneakers hitting dirt, and the caws of crows. She cocked her head. “What's new? Give me the skinny.”

As they strode down another dirt road that led them past fields of bushy soybeans, Linny recapped most of her news, including the promising conversation with Miriam and the possible job in Austin.

“Holy cow.” Mary Catherine gave a low whistle. “Great about Kate, thank goodness about Roy, and bummer about the hunka-hunka vet. Very cool about not getting the project with the Sales and Marketing group but landing a better one.” She slowed her pace and glanced over, looking worried. “But you can't take a job in Austin. You can't move away.”

Touched at the alarm she saw on her friend's face, Linny patted her shoulder. “It's not even officially an offer.” Pausing, she gave her friend a sidelong glance. “But if it does materialize, I may need to seriously consider it.” She raised one shoulder. “Working on the Sweet Dreams List has given me some ideas, though.” Pulling a folded paper from her pocket, she asked, “Can I read you what I've got so far? Some of these ideas are half-baked, and I'm not sure how to go about . . .” She hesitated.

“Spill.” Her friend waved a hand impatiently. “The suspense is killing me.”

Linny slowed her pace, read the list, and summed it up. “So, I'd be working for myself, and getting work on a project-by-project basis. I'll take jobs I can get in corporations for now, but I want to move toward specializing in working with small business owners.” In a voice that had gone up an octave, she added a disclaimer. “I have no clue how to start a business or how to get more clients, but you asked me to think about what I care about, so that's what I'm doing.”

“Good.” Mary Catherine nodded vigorously. “Why small business owners?”

“I like their independence, and how they do things their own way. I like how they make their dreams real.” She relayed the problems she'd seen at Earth and Sea, and at Ronnie's shop. “But the owners need management training, and the employees need to be trained to act more pleasant, and treat customers better.”

Her friend nodded gravely. “I like your idea, and I'll bet you can make it work.”

Linny gave her friend a tentative smile. As they made a U-turn and strode back to the house, she let out her breath. Everybody seemed to have confidence in her—except maybe Linny.

A
t nine fifteen Monday morning, Linny fumed as she glanced out the window yet another time, craning her neck for Dare, who'd promised to be at her house to begin work by eight. She'd already composed an email she wanted to send to colleagues, made a shopping list for a run to Lowe's, and—after another heart-attack-inducing, spider-in-the-shower episode—set up an appointment with Sam, the Bug Man, an exterminator Jerry had recommended.

At her laptop, she examined each word of the note. Chewing on a pen, she wondered if she'd struck the right tone with her careful wording. Did she sound desperate, overly cocky, too tentative? Imagining she was Jared, Aaron, or Miriam, she re-read it and nodded in satisfaction. Drawing in a breath, she patted the Lucky Duck, imagined herself
jitterbugging toward joy with the jackal goddess,
and pushed the Send button.

At the sound of dully thudding hip-hop, Roy scrambled to the front door, stood sentry, and barked madly. Linny glanced at the clock, and felt a flash of irritation. Dare wasn't off to a good start. People who were late annoyed her, and she was so sick of the piles of junk in the yard. She wanted them gone. Trying to put on a neutral expression, she stepped out on the porch and waved as Dare rolled up the driveway in his Dad's battered work truck.

Wearing faded khaki shorts, black Converse sneakers with no laces, wraparound shades, and a red bandana tied round his head pirate-style, Dare gave her a cool nod and he stepped down from the truck. With his high cheekbones, full lips, and sinewy body he must surely be fluttering co-eds' hearts.
Good Lord.
When had Dare turned into such a hunk? Linny blinked, willing herself to think maternal thoughts.

Taking a leisurely last pull of a frozen coffee drink, he glanced at his phone, and then at her, his expression sullen.

“Hey, Dare.” Linny walked over to him and, trying to keep her tone mild, added, “I was looking for you at eight.”

“Real long line at Starbucks,” he drawled, lifting his shades to his head and slipping his phone into his pocket.

Wincing inwardly as she took in his two black eyes, she shrugged. “It's your funeral.”

“What?” he said, skeptically.

“Supposed to be 102 today, 108 with the heat index. Jerry and his guys start at six AM these days to beat the heat, but you do the job however you think is best.”

He cocked his head. “I thought I was helping you, not doing it for you.”

“Oh, no.” She laughed. “That's why I'm paying you the big bucks.”

He grumbled under his breath, “Right. Minimum wage is big bucks.”

After giving him instructions, she gave a little wave and went back inside. From behind a curtain, she watched him shoot a sour look in the direction of the trailer, send a few texts and slowly finish his drink. Sighing, she wondered when the tenderhearted young boy—the one who'd thought a sleepover on her and Andy's screened back porch was a Swiss Family Robinson type adventure—turned into this sulky young man? Ever since he turned fourteen, Mary Catherine had complained about his back talk and general know-it-all attitude, but Dare had always been polite around her. Now she'd caught a glimpse of the post-adolescent attitude, Linny felt a pang of sympathy for Mary Catherine and Mike. She sat at her desk, sipping coffee and mulling it over. To her, a child meant a cute, cuddly baby smelling of talcum powder, not a mulish nineteen-year-old. She shook her head, momentarily grateful at having missed parenthood. Unable to resist, she peeked out the window again.

The truck was again booming music as Dare backed it over to the pile and ambled back to load it. Pausing, he fished a phone from his pocket, sent a message, and laughed as he read the reply. With his non-phone hand, he picked up a small scrap of carpet with his fingertips, wrinkled his nose and gave it an ineffectual little toss, missing the truck bed. Linny rolled her eyes. Wouldn't want to get those lily-white hands dirty.

Twenty minutes later, Linny saw that Dare was arranging his fourth piece of carpet as if it was a mosaic piece that needed to be perfectly positioned. She sighed. At this rate, the debris would decompose before he loaded it into the truck, but she realized she had no leverage. She could use his help, but if she tried to chastise him, he'd move even slower—if that was even possible—or stalk off the job.

The phone dinged, and Mary Catherine's text read,
How's he doing?

Linny tapped out,
Late, sullen, texting, and if he moved any slower, would be going backward.

Mary Catherine's response was immediate.
I'll stop by to visit in few minutes
.

Grinning, Linny put down her phone, tickled at the prospect of watching Mary Catherine jerk Dare's tail in a knot. When her friend was riled up, she was a force of nature. Looking for an excuse to hear every word, Linny fished in the closet for a pair of leather work gloves, and walked to the yard. Feigning nonchalance, she handed them to Dare. “You're getting there,” she said.

He looked at her suspiciously and, apparently satisfied that she was not being sarcastic, grudgingly accepted the gloves.

As Linny walked back to the trailer, she heard a car and spotted Mary Catherine's blue crossover coming up the driveway at such a fast clip that it kicked up clouds of dust. Giving her friend a wave, she busied herself pretending to deadhead a plant on the porch. She didn't want to miss this.

Looking like a page from the Talbots catalogue in her linen shift and pearls, Mary Catherine stalked over to her son. The disgusted look fell from Dare's face, and was replaced by one of pure fear. Her ears straining, Linny got busy with her faux plant care.

Her friend's voice was pleasant, but she enunciated each word slowly and clearly. “Michael Dare, you listen to me. You got yourself into a mess, and you will do whatever it takes to redeem yourself. I expect you to buckle down and apply yourself. If I hear you won't, I'm going to call that nice police officer that we talked into not citing you for underage drinking or giving you a DUI, and ask that he reconsider. Your daddy and I will cease and desist on your tuition bill, and you can figure out how to pay for college all by your smart self. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”

“Yeah,” the young man mumbled.

She said sweetly, “I beg your pardon?”

“Yes, ma'am.” His voice was strong and clear.

From the corner of her eye, Linny watched her pat her son on the arm, and steam back to her car.

Giving him a few moments to nurse his wounds, Linny went in and fixed him a tall glass of ice water. She brought it out and wordlessly handed it to him.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he took long, thirsty gulps.

When he'd finished, she peered at him. “Let me see your teeth.”

He looked chagrinned, but bared his teeth in a smile.

An incisor and the tooth beside it were gone, and with his shiners, he looked like he'd gone one round too long with a heavy hitter. “Good gracious.”

He reddened and shook his head. “Dude, it was a long trip down that hill.”

Linny's lip twitched. No one had ever called her
Dude
before. “I imagine it was.”

He drained the glass.

Linny took it from him. “Tell you what. You get two loads to the dump by noon, and I'll buy you lunch. Anywhere you want, as much as you want to eat.”

“Deal.” He flushed. “I mean, yes ma'am.”

As she walked back to the trailer, she turned and called to him, “After lunch, I need your opinion on the walls. Have you ever hung sheetrock?”

His head bobbed. “Oh, yeah. Worked for Jerry four weeks one summer.”

She tried to hide her grin at his cockiness. “Four whole weeks, huh?”

“Yup,” he assured her.

Linny smiled as Calico Jack pulled on gloves, stood up straighter, and approached the pile with new vigor.

When she went back into the trailer, Linny scrolled though the book titles she'd downloaded on her Kindle:
How to Start Your Own Business
,
Designing Dynamic Training Courses
, and
Building Customer Service Skills: Winning Business by Pleasing Customers.
The online visit to the Worth County library had proved fruitful. Over the weekend, she'd read until her head swam. She shook her head, amazed. For the first time, she felt a sliver of confidence that starting her own business might work.

Roy snoozed at her feet, resting his head on her toes. Reaching down, she scratched the hard to get spot down by his tail, and he sighed in pleasure. Her heart filled with love. She was so happy to have him home and healthy. Jack Avery came to mind, and she hurriedly snapped her thought-banishing rubber band.

After checking and rechecking her messages for the tenth time, she breathed out, and muttered, “Roy, your Mama's trying to drive herself crazy.” No one was going to respond so quickly to an email she'd written just two hours ago. Frowning, she reminded herself that no one may respond, ever. The sliver of confidence diminished. She was green, a rookie. They'd be able to see that from her note. She shuddered inwardly, knowing she may need to saddle up and move to Austin if it meant a real, live job.

She jumped at the knock on her door. Cradling Roy on her shoulder, she opened the door.

Dare was red-faced, dripping with perspiration, and his guarded expression seemed to say,
I know you're in the same camp as my mother.
His eyes did not meet hers as he mumbled. “I need to use your bathroom . . .” But his face lit up when he saw the puppy. Grinning, he reached out to pat Roy. “Who's this little dude?”

Linny slid him over to Dare's shoulder. “His name is Roy, and he's a darling, but let me tell you the trouble he got into last week . . .”

 

At the Good Golly Miss Molly Sub Shop, Linny waited at one of the outdoor picnic tables while Dare placed their order. Glancing at the billowy clouds that hinted at afternoon showers, Linny sighed contentedly as the breeze cooled her skin—such a relief after the heat of the morning. Would this summer ever end? From behind her sunglasses, she glanced inside and watched Dare flirting up a storm with the goth girl at the counter whose black lips curved into a coquettish smile. Linny shook her head admiringly. Youth, beauty, and sex were powerful engines.

Catching her eye through the window, Dare held up a bag and gave her a gap-toothed grin as he walked out the door. Pausing to hold the door for a frazzled-looking young mother and her two whining kids, he shambled over to the table. “Thanks, Linny.” As he handed her change, Linny glanced at it, raised her eyebrows, and grumbled, “I need a job just to pay for your lunches.”

Dare grinned, slurped his milkshake and went to work in earnest on a foot-long sub stacked with meat. Six inches in, he paused to take another pull of his milkshake, and cocked his head at her, “Mom said you got canned.”

Linny eyed him, and sighed. Whatever happened to the notion of respecting one's elders? “I did,” she admitted.

“Bummer.” He patted his mouth with a napkin. “So what are you going to do?” Sipping her iced tea, Linny looked at him, marveling at how fast the sullenness had switched off. The remote, ticked-off expression was gone, and his questioning look was earnest. Chewing a bite of her turkey sub, she thought about it. “I'm thinking about starting my own business.”

“Sweet.” He sucked down the last of his shake and pointed at her with a limp French fry. “You should hire me as an executive. I'm going to be a business major.”

Linny smiled. “We'll see how your performance goes. You got off to a slow start this morning.”

He pretended to bluster. “The job was complicated. There was a steep learning curve.”

Linny laughed. From the corner of her eye she saw a familiar red truck pull into a parking space beside her car. Her heart pounded and she deliberately examined her last bit of sandwich. She watched him surreptitiously from behind her shades. If she kept her head down, Jack Avery might not see her.

But she saw him raise his brows in recognition, smile, and walk toward their table. Glancing at the muscled shoulders of the hunk across from her, he hesitated. Linny thought she saw a knowing look flicker across his face.
Good grief.
He thought she was a cougar, and young Dare was her boy-toy. Why should she care, though? He dated a nymphet. Dare gazed lovingly down at the remainder of his sub, but just maybe Jack thought his loving gaze was for Linny. She gave the boy a beguiling smile—which he didn't see—and tried to toss her hair back over her shoulder in the wildly sexy way they do in hair color commercials, but the tossing movement created a sharp pain in her neck. Trying not to grimace, she watched Jack's face close as he walked away.