0aeaa1e36e6f2e625b6ba8d48f773062

First a turtle, then a fitness guy and his dog? What was next? Edgar Allan Poe and his pet raven?“So will you help Odelia save this man’s life?” he asked.

“Nah. Got other fish to fry,” said Gran, much to Brutus’s surprise.

“What fish?” And why fry a fish when you could simply eat it raw?

“Scarlett just told me Wilbur Vickery is sweet on me, and I’ve decided to go out on a date with him.” Gran was grinning a little strangely, Brutus thought. In fact she was a lot more chipper than she usually was.

“A date?” he asked. “You’re going on a date?”

“Yeah, go figure, right? Last time I dated a guy he turned out to be a real dud. And even though Wilbur isn’t exactly a catch, it never hurts to see what happens. Hey, maybe we’ll hit it off. If my son can find love at his age, maybe I can, too, huh?”

“Oh, sure,” said Brutus. “Go for it, Gran.”

“Yep. I’ll give it my best shot. And if it turns out Wilbur is a dud, too, no harm done.”

And then she actually started singing! Brutus, who’d never heard Gran sing before, looked at her a little uncertainly. This was a Gran he didn’t know. A pleasant and cheerful Gran. A Gran, in other words, who wasn’t like Gran at all.

[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]

Tex had just said goodbye to his final patient for the day, and wondered now, not for the first time, where his receptionist could have gone off to.

When he’d decided to give his mother-in-law Vesta a chance to earn a little extra working for his doctor’s office as a receptionist, he hadn’t exactly banked on her playing hooky half the time—or all of the time. He’d agreed with his wife that Vesta could use something to keep her hands and her mind busy and out of trouble. But the last time she’d actually spent time greeting his patients and picking up the phone and taking care of his appointment book was probably a fortnight ago now.

So maybe, he thought as he closed the door of his office, it was time to hire a real receptionist, and replace the unreliable one he had now with an actual pro.

It sure would make his life a lot easier. First off, it would lessen his load, and secondly, he would never again have to look at Vesta’s grumpy face staring back at him from behind her desk, if she decided to look up from her game of Solitaire, that is.

And as he started on his short trek home, the thought of getting rid of Vesta once and for all cheered him up to such an extent that he was smiling widely before him by the time he turned the corner and entered the last stretch. The road home took him past the dog park, and he saw now that both of his neighbors were walking their respective dogs.

So he waved, like any neighborly neighbor would, to Kurt and Ted, who both blithely ignored him, Kurt because he was Kurt, and Ted because the accountant was probably legally blind after spending an entire career looking at numbers on a computer screen.

Tex’s cheerfulness diminished only to a slight extent, then increased again when he saw that Marge had arrived home before him.

Marge, who worked at the local library, would probably not be all that happy when she heard the news about her mom being out of a job at the age of seventy-five, but she would understand. Of that Tex was sure.

“Honey, I’m home!” he hollered as he entered the house. It was a lame joke, but never failed to put a smile on his face.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Marge yelled back.

He joined her there, and kissed her on the temple. Marge stood staring into the fridge, probably wondering when all those stories about a smart fridge ordering food all by itself would finally come true.

“Vesta didn’t show up again today,” he said, deciding to launch into his story straight off the bat. “So I’m thinking, honey, that it’s time to finally let her go and hire a real receptionist for the office. What do you think?”

“Did you know that Randy Hancock is staying next door?” asked his wife. “I mean, Randy Hancock, Tex—the Randy Hancock!”

“Oh?” he said, not all that interested in the fitness guru. “I didn’t know he gave private lessons.”

“He doesn’t. He’s been poisoned, and now he wants Odelia to try and save his life. Can you believe that? Randy Hancock!”

“Poisoned? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know all the details, but it looks like someone is blackmailing him. They told him he only has a couple of days to live, and if he doesn’t do what they tell him, they won’t give him the antidote.”

Marge was looking much too bright and cheerful to be telling such a gruesome story, but then she’d always had a thing for Randy Hancock. Tex, on the other hand, could take Randy Hancock or he could leave him. “Did you hear what I just said about your mother? She didn’t show up again.”

But Marge was clearly not listening. Instead she was staring out the kitchen window with a strange look on her face.“Odelia has invited us over. What do you think I should wear? Something sporty, or completely the opposite? Something really fancy?” She turned to him and fluffed up her hair. “How do I look?”

“Great,” he said.