Deadly Ever After by Eva Gates (distant reading .txt) 📗

“Nice meeting you,” Leon said.

“And you,” I replied.

Back outside, I handed the ticket to the valet and told him what I wanted. When I had it in hand, I found Ricky watching Fluffy sniff around under a perfectly manicured bush. He handed me the leash. Fluffy sniffed my shoes.

“What are you going to do for the rest of the day?” I asked.

“I have to start making phone calls. I have some clients I need to reassure. Firm hand on the tiller and all that. I’ll find out what I have scheduled for the rest of the week and then decide if I’m going to stay with Mom until … until we can take Dad home.”

“If you need anything …”

He reached out and touched my cheek, ever so lightly. His eyes were very wet. “Lucy. My Lucy. What a fool I’ve been.”

I turned and fled, dragging Fluffy behind me.

Chapter Eleven

Charles and Fluffy did not attempt to make friends. The moment I stepped into the library, the little dog trotting happily ahead of me, Charles flew across the room, hissing and spitting. Fluffy screeched, darted for the safety of the back of my legs, and began barking so loudly she probably had the ducks lifting off the pond in fright. The leash wrapped around my ankles and was jerked tight. Startled, laden with a bag of dog supplies, and yanked off my feet, I began to topple. I would have fallen flat on my face had not James Dalrymple been passing and grabbed my arm.

“What on earth!” Mrs. Peterson, library patron, said. “Lucy, do you think it’s a good idea to bring that dog in here?”

“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “I do not.”

“Then why have you?”

Good question.

Charles feinted as though to go around to my right. Fluffy edged closer to me. Charles changed course and came by the left. Fluffy showed him all of her impressive teeth. “Stop that!” I yelled at Charles.

He paid me his usual amount of attention when I try to be firm, which is none. He arched his back and all the fur stood on end, appearing to add about twenty pounds to his already hefty frame. His whiskers bristled, his amber eyes narrowed, and he displayed his equally impressive teeth.

Fluffy turned and fled. James had let go of me, and before either of us could react, I was jerked completely off my feet. Fluffy dodged the returns cart, but I wasn’t so lucky and crashed into it. The cart fell. The bag fell, split open, and cans of dog food rolled across the floor. Desperately flailing about, trying to keep myself upright, I stepped on a can, and my foot shot out from beneath me as the leash was pulled out of my hand. Books tumbled around me as I hit the floor and cans rolled under the shelves. A substantial hardcover volume of the history of Eastern North Carolina landed on the back of my head. I feared I heard bones crack.

People screamed, the dog barked, the cat screeched, cans clattered, books tumbled, hands reached for me, and other hands chased after the animals. Footsteps pounded down the stairs.

“Lucy, are you all right?”

“I’ve got him.”

“Don’t let him go!”

“Someone call an ambulance.”

“Careful, he might bite.”

“Geez, Mom. Don’t be such a wimp. It’s just a little dog,” Dallas Peterson said.

“What on earth is happening out here?” Bertie cried.

“I … I …” I rolled over. James and Charlene peered into my face. “Are you hurt?” Charlene asked.

I performed a quick mental inventory on myself. Everything seemed to be in place, and nothing felt broken. “Only my pride.” I held out a hand, and James grabbed it. He pulled me to my feet.

I glanced around the library. A circle of faces watched me. Dallas had picked Fluffy up and was murmuring soft words and stroking her. The dog’s small body trembled. Charles, content with having established his place in the hierarchy of the library, perched on top of the shelf marked MORRISON–PROULX, washing his paws.

“You need to introduce them properly, Lucy,” Dallas said. “Dogs and cats don’t have to be natural enemies.” She carried Fluffy over to the bookshelf and said, “See? What’s your dog’s name?”

“She’s not my dog, and she’s called Fluffy.”

“Charles,” Dallas said. “This is Fluffy, and she’s Lucy’s friend. Be nice.”

Charles yawned. Dallas put Fluffy on the floor, gave her a reassuring pat, and handed me the end of the leash.

“You have a good way with animals,” James said to the girl.

“Thank you. I’m going to be a vet when I grow up. I’d love to have a dog, but Mom says they’re too much work.” She threw a poisonous look at her mother.

“Well, they are,” Mrs. Peterson said to no one.

James and Charlene began gathering up the fallen books, and Ronald went in pursuit of the bag of dry dog food, which fortunately hadn’t broken open, and the escaped cans. Patrons dropped to their knees to reach under the shelves.

“Sorry,” I said to Bertie. “I was hoping to slip in unnoticed and take Fluffy upstairs.”

“Didn’t work.” Ronald handed me the bag of kibble.

“Apparently not.”

“No harm done,” Bertie said. “As long as you’re okay, Lucy?”

“I’m fine. Thanks.” I didn’t dare touch the back of my head with all these people watching. Drama over, they began to disperse.

“Cute dog,” Charlene said. “Where’d you get her?”

“She belongs to a friend of my mother’s, and she can’t keep her in the hotel any longer.”

“I wonder why?” Ronald muttered.

“Let me take her upstairs and get her settled, and then I’ll come back down and take over the desk. I thought you were off today?” I said to Charlene.

“I am. James and I are going to lunch. I came in to get him.” She peeked at the Englishman from under her lashes.

“I’m still feeling a bit uh … wobbly,” I said to James. “Would you mind carrying the dog upstairs for me?”

“Maybe you should go to the hospital,” Mrs. Peterson said. “You had a nasty crack on the head.”

“Perfectly fine,” I said.

“I wouldn’t mind