Cupid's Christmas (Serendipity #3)(23)

Centuries back I lost track of the number of successful matches I’d made, but this I can tell you—none have been quite as complicated as the Eleanor-John match. Yeah, yeah, I know you’re gonna bring up the Romeo-Juliet thing, but they weren’t in my jurisdiction, so I’m not accountable for that fiasco.





Cupid…The Distraction Attraction



The laughable thing about humans is their gullibility. Even when a human is down to their last dollar, they can read a horoscope promising a large sum of money and expect it to be forthcoming. The realization that the horoscope has been written by another human with no more knowledge of the future than the reader never dawns on them. Little wonder my tricks work as well as they do. Lindsay is high on the gullibility scale, so she’s easier to maneuver than most. While this often works in my favor, I’m a bit concerned when it comes to her expectations about the new resume. I probably should remind you that employment is not mine to do or undo. Lindsay is on her own unless she’s got a friend in Life Management, which I can assure you, is an extremely rare occurrence.





On Sunday afternoon I watched Lindsay settle onto the sofa with the Courier Post, a ruled tablet and a ball point pen. She almost bristled with the renewed certainty of finding a job. Starting at the top of the listings, she read through them one by one. Automobile mechanic, Babysitter, Bakery assistant, Cook, Copywriter, she circled the copywriter ad and moved on. Delivery driver, Engineer… after she’d read through every listing, she realized that even with the new resume, her qualifications were suitable for only two of the jobs listed—copywriter and sales person for the Baby Boutique. She wrote both telephone numbers on the tablet and then colored in a star next to the number for the copywriter position. It didn’t take an all-seeing eye to recognize that was the job she wanted.

Tomorrow morning Lindsay planned to call both places, but until then there was little she could do. She set aside the Classifieds and picked up the Weekend Section. A Macy’s ad triggered the thought that if she got the job as copywriter, she would need a few new outfits for work. Suits, she wondered, or dresses? She was flipping through the pages when she saw it in the upper right hand corner of the seventh page—the ad for Heavenly Acres Animal Rescue Center. “It’s my dog!” Lindsay shouted and jumped to her feet.

With the folded back newspaper in her hand, she dashed into the kitchen where Eleanor and John were working on a crossword puzzle together. “Is it okay if I get this dog?” she asked waving the newspaper.

“A seven letter detective show starting with m-a…” John mused, “Matlock, that’s it!”

“Nope,” Eleanor answered, “The k has to be an r.”

“Oh,” John said disappointedly. He then turned to Lindsay, “What did you say honey?”

“This dog,” she repeated, handing him the newspaper, “…is it okay if I get it?”

“Since when do you want a dog?” John asked quizzically.

“I don’t just want a dog, I want this dog. It’s been following me everywhere.”

“Following you?” Eleanor questioned. “How can it be following you if the dog is locked up in the shelter and—”

“Not following me physically,” Lindsay said, “but its picture is popping up every time I turn on my computer, and I hear barking in my ear, things like—”

Both John and Eleanor were eying her strangely. “What’s going on here?” her father asked. “Is there something you’re not telling—”

“There’s nothing to tell! I’d just like to adopt this little dog and I thought since it’s your house, I ought to at least ask before I do it.”

Eleanor reached across and patted John’s hand, “Honey, I think having a dog would be good for Lindsay. If this Beagle is the one she wants then—”

“It’s not a Beagle. It’s a Maltese, or Bichon maybe.”

Eleanor and John looked at the advertisement for a second time. “It looks like a Beagle,” they said in unison.

Lindsay pulled back the newspaper, “How can a Beagle be long and shaggy?” she said, but when she looked at the ad, her jaw went slack. “This is the wrong ad,” she said, and began leafing through the other pages. There were no other Heavenly Acres ads in the Weekend Section. “It must have been in another section.” Lindsay turned back to the living room muttering something that went unheard…at least unheard by human ears.

She searched every section of the paper, including the comic pages and real estate listings—the ad she’d seen was nowhere to be found. For a good hour, Lindsay sat there looking at the same pages over and over again. Finally, she came to the conclusion that she had somehow developed a strange new ability to see things and remember things that never were. It was, she decided, an extrasensory perception of both past and future. The high school incidents she’d shared with Traci were definitely from the past, but this dog had to be from the future, and Lindsay had a feeling he was an important part of her future. She had to find that dog!

Monday morning Lindsay called the Baby Boutique first. “Sorry honey,” the woman said, “…that job was filled two weeks ago.”

“But, I just saw this ad yesterday,” Lindsay replied.