Cupid's Christmas (Serendipity #3)(10)
Lindsay sat there thinking back on all that had happened. Piece by piece she was losing herself and everything she loved. First it was her Mom, then Phillip, then the apartment, then her job, now even Sara was gone.
She thought about Sara and the happiness that bubbled through her voice. She pictured blue skies and palm trees waving in the breeze. And for a brief moment she even pictured a handsome life guard with a toasted body and hair the color of a noonday sun.
As she emptied the bowl she thought about the bedroom she’d slept in growing up—it was nearly as large as the apartment. She thought about the dining room, with its mahogany table and chairs filled with Mom, Dad, Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Frank. As she thought about those things it seemed that both she and the apartment were growing smaller and smaller.
When she went to bed that night, I could tell a loneliness bigger than any Lindsay had ever known had settled into her heart. She pulled the blankets over her head and began to cry.
Cupid’s Gremlins
At one time this was a simple job—arrange for two humans to meet on a stroll through the park, or at a party, even at work—but with every century it becomes increasingly more complex. Now, not only do I have to deal with cross-country relocations, I’m plagued with online dating sites. The idea of a computer doing my job is virtually laughable. I can look ahead a thousand centuries and promise you that long after computers are obsolete, I will still be arranging perfect matches. Granted, the computer has its uses, as you will soon see, but finding love is not one of them.
With most humans I can predict what they’ll do, but Lindsay is totally unpredictable. No one understands human hearts better than me, and I can assure you, it’s much too soon for that girl to find love. This leaves me in what might be called a pickle. I can’t give Lindsay a new match nor can I allow her to interfere with John and Eleanor, so I’ve created a distraction—not all that difficult because humans are extremely gullible and quite easily distracted. Watch what happens...
Lindsay woke with a strange feeling and a buzzing in her ears. It seemed as though she was hearing something and yet not hearing it. Twice she cleaned her ears with a cotton swab then resorted to using an ear wax cleansing oil. Still it continued.
She booted up the computer and googled Jobs, Jobs, Jobs, but the strangest thing happened—she got a car rental site. She exited the site and tried again. The next time she was rerouted to a genealogy site, one that promised to find lost and forgotten family members. She again clicked ‘exit file’ and tried retyping JobsJobsJobs.com in the search bar. Again she landed on the genealogy site.
Still thinking of her conversation with Sara, she changed course and typed Visit Florida into the search bar. Seconds later it appeared—the same picture she’d been imagining. A bluer than blue ocean, a long stretch of sandy beach, palm trees so tall they overreached the edge of the picture. Lindsay sighed…if only… While she was still gazing at the screen, the beach transformed itself into a river with a man who was holding up the giant bass he’d caught. That scene dissolved into one of a middle age couple sitting at an outdoor table with glasses of red wine and tropical flowers. Discover the Florida in you! was scrawled across the screen. Suddenly Lindsay had an overwhelming urge to go. I could be there in two days, she thought. I could probably stay with Sara. I’ve got enough savings to last a month, maybe two, by then I could find a job and… Without waiting, she double clicked on get more information.
There were a few seconds of hesitation then a page appeared that read Welcome to Small Paws, the place where love starts. The page was bordered with images of dogs, small cute dogs—a cuddly-looking Shih Tzu, a long-haired Maltese, and a Pomeranian with a poof of hair and a tiny nose. “Awww, how cute,” Lindsay sighed, and without knowing what pushed her hand to do so, she clicked on one of the pictures.
The face of the Shih Tzu instantly stretched across the screen. In the lower right hand corner was a block of copy. ‘I’m a nine year old boy who needs a home,’ it read. ‘I do best with older adults who have lots of love and can spend all day with me…’ it went on to say that he was completely housebroken but not good with small children.
“All day?” Lindsay sighed. “I can’t… I’ve got to get a job.”
She moved on to click the Pomeranian and the picture grew larger, but before she could read the copy, the photo was replaced by one of a shaggy-looking puppy standing on small square of what was part grass and part dirt, Although she’d never known dogs to have an expression, this one looked forlorn. Beneath the photo was a single line of copy, it read—I’m waiting for you. This picture had no button to click for more information. It said nothing more about the dog. There was no logline about the breed, or what kind of home was right, no designation as to whether it was male or female.
“What the…” Lindsay double-clicked on the picture. It disappeared and the Pomeranian came into view. ‘I’m a sweet little girl who is three years old,’ it read…the copy went on to tell the dog’s story and provide a link where the viewer could fill out an adoption application.
Lindsay hit the back arrow. The picture of the Shih Tzu reappeared. “Where’s that other dog,” she grumbled and moved her cursor to the forward arrow. The Small Paws home screen appeared again. “What the heck is going on here…” One by one she went through every picture on the website, that sad-eyed dog was nowhere to be found and the buzzing in her ears seemed to be getting louder. It wasn’t just a buzz, it was far away voices, voices too small to be understood or distinguished. Lindsay could swear she heard a dog barking, but since the apartment building had a strict no pet policy, that was impossible.