Déjà Date Read online

  Ginger had given me two thumbs up this morning for getting a dog as long as it was less than twenty-five pounds, which was the homeowners association’s rule. She’d also mentioned that her friend, Sarah Carlton, ran a dog rescue service out of her house. So I made a six o’clock appointment with Sarah to adopt one of her rescues. I’d give the dog a nice home, but I’d keep my feelings tucked safely away from him.

  No creature could ever replace Checkers.

  I arrived home from the bakery after five o’clock, which didn’t give me much time to eat before heading over to Sarah’s house, let alone time to wash the flour out of my hair. Nate had appeared in the bakery’s kitchen at five a.m., insisting that friends help friends bake. When I’d protested, he’d merely flicked flour in my direction, and we’d ended up having a bit of showdown involving multiple spices.

  Nate had won, so I ended up letting him help me bake—customers were arriving soon after all. But I’d held my own in the spice fight and he’d left that afternoon smelling of cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar. Yum. His scent had been even more delicious, but I managed to resist him, which hadn’t been easy. The man looked hot wearing an apron, and despite my need to distance myself from him, he’d made me laugh over and over like old times.

  Now, at home, I practically inhaled my dinner so I wouldn’t be late. Then I set my plate in the dishwasher, grabbed my keys off the counter, and was heading for the door when Mary Ann arrived unexpectedly. She insisted on coming with me to Sarah’s house, and I took her up on her offer to drive since my hands were shaking.

  The drive was only a few miles, but I couldn’t remember any of it. I’d chewed on my thumbnail the entire ride, knowing I’d never be able to open my heart up to another dog like I had with my beloved Checkers. If only my dad had given me some other task since this one just reminded me of the sweet companion I’d lost, causing stabbing pain through my chest.

  “What’s going on, Melinda?” Mary Ann pulled into the right side of Sarah’s driveway, and pushed her gearshift into park. “Spill, so I don’t have to start guessing.”

  “What makes you think anything’s going on?” I opened the door, gave her my most innocent look, then jumped out of the car before she could respond.

  Mary Ann’s blond head popped out of the driver’s side. “I asked about the hot guy from the bakery several times, but you’ve totally ignored me.” She pushed her driver’s side door shut. “Plus, you’re suddenly adopting a dog? Animal hair drives you nuts. I mean, really. You flinch any time Gilligan or The Professor rub against your ankle.”

  I normally smiled at the mention of my roommate Ginger’s cats’ names. It was hilarious how she and Mary Ann totally had the Gilligan’s Island thing going on. But my nerves were too raw right now. I was about to adopt a dog, and all I could think about was the ripping pain I’d felt when Checkers had died. I’d need to keep emotional distance from this new dog. That’s all there was to it.

  “See? You’re doing it again, ignoring me. And you’re wearing the same expression I had when my facialist moved to Tahiti with her boyfriend. Not exactly the look of someone excited to bring home a pooch. Am I wrong?” She raised her brow as we traipsed up Sarah’s front walkway.

  At the doorstep, I turned to Mary Ann, whose eyes grew large with concern. I sighed. Here she was, once again, reaching out to me. Part of me wanted to tell her how my dog died when I was fourteen and how that had crushed me. That my dad had died soon after and the idea of losing someone else I loved gave me this deep dark sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  But I’d learned to keep a heavily guarded wall around my heart, and it forced me to hold back. Although I longed to open up to the bubbly blonde who spoke everything on her mind, and to the adventurous rebel who rode a motorcycle (oops—I promised myself I wouldn’t think of Nate tonight), the thought made me feel entirely too vulnerable.

  So I turned to Mary Ann as I pressed the doorbell, wishing I could be more like her and just say everything that was on my mind. I decided to try the short version for a start. “My dad died when I was fourteen, and my mom just found a letter he’d written to me in his will—”

  “I’m so sorry.” She reached out, threw her arms around me, and squeezed. “How awful. I had no idea.”

  I froze, momentarily stunned at how easily she was able to let her feelings fly. I patted her back awkwardly. “Thanks, Mary Ann. That’s . . . very sweet of you.”

  The front door opened with a squeak. “Are you guys all right?” a female voice asked.

  I quickly turned to smile at the pretty woman with silky brown hair who looked about my age, dressed in dog-hair covered sweats and a warm smile.

  “Melinda’s dad died when she was fourteen, and her mom just found a letter he’d written to her.” Mary Ann sniffed, then dabbed the corners of her eyes. “Melinda, this is Sarah. Sarah, Melinda.”

  Sarah’s smile grew even wider. “Nice to meet you, Melinda. I’m very sorry to hear about your dad. How surreal to get a letter from him after all of this time.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I blurted, unexpectedly.

  Mary Ann kept her gaze on me as she stepped inside the entryway, and Sarah closed the door behind us. “Was it hard for you to read it?” Mary Ann asked.

  “Yes.” I pressed my lips together and followed her inside, thinking it would’ve been easier if I had asked Nate to stay with me like I’d wanted. Even though it had been years since we’d seen each other, being with him felt comforting—like we were still best friends.

  “What did he say in his letter? If you don’t mind my asking . . .” Sarah’s tone was friendly, but cautious.

  I gave her a reassuring smile, touched by how genuinely interested she seemed. “He told me good-bye and that he’d always love me.”

  “Oh!” Mary Ann’s eyes watered. “Sounds like your dad was really special. Mine wouldn’t write me a letter in a million years, let alone say he loves me. I’m just fortunate he completed rehab. We’re having a celebratory dinner Saturday night and I’m so not looking forward to seeing him.”

  I gave Mary Ann a sympathetic look. “My dad wasn’t perfect, by any means. In his letter, he also left me a Carpe Diem list, which I have to complete.”

  “Seize the day?” Sarah asked.

  I nodded, following her down the hall. “Task one is to adopt a dog.”

  “Oh!” Mary Ann’s hand flew to her mouth as she skipped along beside me. “That makes total sense now. You’re adopting the dog because your dad wanted you to, which is so sweet. Was he an animal lover?”

  We crossed through the living room, went out the sliding back door, then entered Sarah’s yard. Barking ensued.

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled. My dad liked animals well enough, but that’s not why he’d put the task on my list. He knew how much I loved Checkers and he wanted me to seize the day—whatever that meant. Sigh.

  “These are the rescues available for adoption.” Sarah wore a wistful smile as she leaned on the chain link fence of her dog run. There were eight dogs inside, most of whom were jumping against the fence and barking loudly.

  Thinking of Checkers, my heart pinched. I glanced away from the yippers, mentally grumbling to my dad about how he could do this to me. What if my roommate rethought her decision to let me have a dog once she heard the barking in her tranquil condo? I wasn’t really a cat person, but Ginger’s kittens were certainly quiet. And, even more, I’d made sure not to bond with them.

  For a moment, I pondered the possibility of my mom letting me modify task number one to a cat. No, that was just wishful thinking. My mom and dad had been sticklers for backing each other up, so I’d have to complete task one as he wrote it if I wanted the inheritance money so I could buy the bakery.

  “I rescued that one from the pound.” Sarah interrupted my thoughts by pointing to a yellow lab mix. “He’s sweet, but rambunctious for sure.” Then she waved her finger at a tiny brown fluffy dog. “A woman dropped that one off after she foun
d her wandering the streets.” Her lips pressed together as she faced me. “Is there a certain type of personality you’re looking for in a pet?”

  “Low maintenance.” I came up next to Sarah, keeping my gaze away from the dogs, prolonging the inevitable decision as long as I could. “Potty-trained. Obedient. Under twenty-five pounds. And not too needy. I’m giving him a home, but we’re both going to need our own space.”

  “You’ll want one of the older dogs then.” Sarah lifted the latch on the gate. “Why don’t you go inside and get to know them? You can give them a few commands to see which will be the best fit for you.”

  “Can I go inside, too?” Mary Ann squealed with delight when Sarah nodded. She squeezed through the narrow gap Sarah had cracked open, then she was promptly attacked by obsessive licks from random dogs.

  While the pups were diverted, I slipped inside, and went to the opposite end of the pen so I could study each dog from afar to evaluate which would be the most self-sufficient. As soon as I sat down in the corner by myself, a little brown dog with a long back trotted over, and started jumping on me.

  “Down, doggy. Down,” I said, sternly. But the pup ignored my commands, and continued to lick my face, arms, and any spot it could get its wet tongue on. Then it stopped suddenly and started hacking.

  Hagh! Hagh!

  “You don’t want that one.” Sarah’s brows came together. “Definitely high maintenance. I rescued her from the pound yesterday, and I’m pretty sure she has kennel cough.” She shook her head. “It’s likely she’ll need antibiotics. Plus, I noticed flakes of skin all over her coat, which could be from malnourishment. I’ll have to take her to the vet, which I’m guessing will be a hefty bill.”

  Hagh! Hagh! The short wiener dog arched her chin forward as she coughed again, choking as if she might keel over at any second. Then she stopped abruptly, quieted, and paused as if waiting for her coughing fit to continue. When it didn’t, she shook her head, ears flapping about her. Then her dark-eyed gaze met mine and she began jumping on me with vigor, attacking me with her wet tongue.

  “Sit! Sit!” I instructed, but it was no use. The dog continued to assault me with her energetic licks and she couldn’t get close enough. I leaned away, pressing my back against the metal fence, but she wiggled onto my lap and began sniffing under my arms. “Stop!”

  “Come over here, Melinda!” Mary Ann called out from across the dog run. “I’ve found the perfect dog for you! He such a good boy.”

  Blocking my face from the crazy hot dog invading my personal space, I turned in time to see Mary Ann point to the ground.

  She circled her finger in the air. “Roll over. Now . . . sit.”

  The pretty black dog with the shiny coat followed her commands, then sat quietly at attention waiting for the next instruction.

  “Isn’t he great?” Mary Ann called out. “Come check him out.”

  I fought to push to my feet, but the little brown pup—which had to be some kind of dachshund mix—pounced on me. Her obviously too-long nails scratched my arms, and when I managed to wring myself free, my sleeves had snags. “Oh, no!”

  “I’ll come get her from you,” Sarah said, apparently sensing my distress.

  As I heard the metal gate squeak open, I used both of my hands to hold the squirmy little dog down. But the chaotic wiener dog wiggled erratically, struggling to get free so she could no doubt find a spot of me to slobber on.

  “Come here, girl.” Sarah lifted her away from me, holding the pup in the crook of her elbow, and the chaos stopped.

  I fought to catch my breath now that the struggle was over, and for some reason I glanced up. A dark-brown gaze met mine, staring at me wide-eyed, with a look of longing. Then something happened. The seal around my heart cracked, slipping away like hot liquid, leaving a long forgotten spot exposed.

  I reached toward her. “Wait . . .”

  Sarah swiveled. With a look of confusion, she placed the wiener dog into my outstretched arms, and quietly stepped away.

  “Hi, girl,” I said, holding her against me.

  She whimpered with joy, scrambling up my chest with her two front paws as if she couldn’t get close enough to me. Her wet nose brushed my chin and she began licking my cheek repeatedly, her tail swooping back and forth behind her.

  “What do you think?” I asked, staring into her brown eyes. With a shaky hand, I rubbed behind her ears, and she pushed her nose into my palm, finding a new licking spot. And in that one little nudge, my heart melted, and there was no more fighting it.

  I knew she was mine.

  ****

  On Wednesday morning Bernie’s Realtor, Wendy Watts, dropped in to say she had an interested buyer coming to tour the bakery and building on Friday, and my heart pretty much stopped. As Wendy rattled on about the importance of having everything in perfect order for the showing, a wave of dizziness overtook me. I gripped the counter for support.

  I needed to go see my mom as soon as possible and beg for more time to complete my dad’s Carpe Diem list. But due to my (still unnamed) pup’s intermittent hacking, I first had to first take her to the check-up appointment I’d made at All Things Furry—the vet clinic where my roommate took her cats.

  The vet had come highly recommended by Ginger’s friend, Ellen Holbrook, who also happened to be an old co-worker of mine. Although Ellen and I had both worked in the same department for years, I was practically the only woman at the company who hadn’t been invited to her wedding—or later, to her baby shower.

  This was of the many reasons I groaned when Mary Ann called as I was leaving the vet’s office, and asked if she could invite Ellen to my girls’ night on Friday.

  “Ellen’s baby is due any day now and she’s been cooped up in her house since she’s been on maternity leave,” Mary Ann pleaded, emphatically. “A spa night with the girls is just what she needs.”

  “Spa night?” I blinked, setting my little pooch on the front passenger seat, along with the bag of expensive medications I’d had to charge on my credit card (yep, kennel cough). When I released my pooch she immediately scrambled toward the front passenger’s side window, propping herself up on her hind paws so she could press her nose against the window and study the two kids running through the parking lot.

  Ruff! Ruff!

  “Yeah, doesn’t a spa night sound fun?” Mary Ann’s voice bellowed enthusiasm. “You’ve had an emotional week, and I think it would be good for you.”

  Apparently she thought it would be good for Ellen Holbrook, too. I was already feeling like an outsider at my first girls’ night ever. Thanks, Dad.

  I sucked in a breath. “Honestly, I don’t think Ellen would want to come to a party I’m hosting.” I connected Mary Ann to my car’s speakerphone, then set my cell down so I had both hands free. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me,” I said, hoping she’d tell me I was being paranoid.

  Long pause. “Okay, that’s another reason I’m suggesting the spa night. It’s come to my attention that Ellen and some of the other gals find you a little intimidating.”

  “Me?” I’d been backing out of the parking space and braked way too hard when she’d called me intimidating, remembering that Avery had said the exact same thing to me the other day. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, you know.” Her voice rang out cheerfully. “How you’re always so put together, and look like you just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Personally, I say more power to you. But apparently some people find it off-putting. Surprised me, too.”

  “I appreciate your honesty.” I slammed my foot on the gas, making the car lurch forward before I sped down the street. I’d worked with some of those women at the office for over four years, and had always thought I’d done something wrong to make them not like me. But it was my appearance? I pressed my lips together. “In grade school, I was made fun of for being an ugly duckling. Now, nobody likes me because I look too good?”

  “It’s not that they don’t like you,” she said, quickly. Then she
sighed. “Don’t get mad at me for saying this, but you are kind of hard to get to know. I mean, every time I want to hang out with you I pretty much have to invite myself.”

  “When have you had to . . .?” My brows came together as I thought back to when we’d gone out to dinner last weekend, to breakfast at the bakery on Monday, and then to get my (nameless) dog last night. She’d initiated each invitation. Shoot, she’d even called me just now. I shook my head, and sighed. “You’re totally right. I guess I have trouble reaching out.”

  “It’s no biggie. I just think Ellen might have an easier time getting to know you in a relaxed environment like a spa night.” She lowered her voice. “It’s hard to be intimidated by someone who’s wearing a facial masque. Know what I’m saying?”

  A tiny laugh escaped as I realized, ironically, how hard Mary Ann was trying to include me in the group, even though I was resisting emphatically. I slowed my car to make a right turn, realizing that somewhere along the way Mary Ann had become my friend.

  My eyes blurred and I blinked back the tears. I pulled into mom’s driveway, swiping under my eyes as I came to a stop. “A spa night is a great idea and I appreciate you thinking of me. Please do invite Ellen. I . . . hope she comes.”

  Mary Ann let out a whoop. “Excellent. We’re going to have a lot of fun. I’d better go now. I have a hot date with someone new.”

  I laughed, because it seemed like Mary Ann only dated a guy once or twice, before she moved on to the next one. “Have fun, and don’t break his heart.”

  Speaking of broken hearts, my mind immediately raced to Nate. Even though I promised myself to keep things with him on the “friends” level, something still echoed inside me that he might disappear again. But he seemed sincere in his promise, so I should try to trust him again.

  Besides, I had enough on my plate right now. Convincing my mom to front my inheritance money would be no easy feat, but I had to try.

  Ruff! Ruff!

  My little hot dog’s tail whipped back and forth rapidly and my gaze followed hers. The front door of my mom’s house opened and my mom walked out with a younger guy with a fabulous physique. What the . . .?