Cupid's Christmas (Serendipity #3)(31)

That evening when John and Eleanor settled in the living room, I pushed Lindsay toward the computer in the den. I planted the thought that she should add a love of dogs to her resume. When the icons on the home screen were loaded, she double-clicked Microsoft Word then double-clicked Resume.doc.

Lindsay moved faster than I’d anticipated, so there was a blank screen for a few moments then my image of the dog popped up. I knew exactly what she’d do, and she did it. Before I pulled the picture back, she clicked print.

The printer came to life and began whirring, but by then the image of the dog had been replaced by the resume. Seconds later a sheet of paper shot out of the printer. Lindsay reached for it—almost certain it would either be a blank or the first page of her resume. Of course, it was neither. It was a picture of the dog.

“It must be imbedded in this file,” she mumbled and then clicked print for a second time. A copy of her resume rolled out of the printer. Three times she tried closing the file and reopening it and three times she got nothing but her resume. By the time she finally decided it was useless, she’d printed the resume nine times. She then made ten copies of the single picture she’d gotten.

Although Lindsay did not make a mark on the original she’d printed out, she took a heavy black marker and wrote at the top and bottom of each copy. At the top she wrote—If you see this dog, please call—at the bottom she wrote her telephone number. She then grabbed her purse, a hammer, and package of carpet tacks that had been in the top kitchen drawer for as long as she could remember, and started for the door. In the living room she stopped to show the poster to Eleanor and her father.

“See,” she said, “This is the dog I’ve been telling you about.”

Still somewhat puzzled, Eleanor said, “Oh, so you had this dog when you lived in New York?”

“No. Pets weren’t allowed in the building,” Lindsay answered, “But I know this dog and it’s the one I want to get, I just don’t know where to find—”

“Wait a minute,” John said. “These are lost dog posters. You can’t go around putting up lost dog posters if it’s not your dog.”

“It doesn’t say lost dog, it says if you’ve seen this dog…”

“It infers lost dog,” he said, “For all you know, this dog might belong to somebody else.”

“It doesn’t,” Lindsay said emphatically.

“How do you know it doesn’t?”

“I just know.”

“Not good enough,” her father answered, “Get rid of those posters.”

“But Dad…”

He shook his head and she could see his mouth set in a rigid line of determination.

“John,” Eleanor pleaded, “…be reasonable.” She reached across and patted his hand, “Maybe instead of tacking the posters up, Lindsay could just hand them out to a few people she knows. She can explain that it’s a dog she’s looking to buy.”

“Well, I suppose if she explains…” he relented.

“And there’s nothing wrong with having one on the clubhouse bulletin board, and maybe at Matthew’s office,” Eleanor added.

“Okay, those two places, but that’s it!” John got up from the sofa and headed to the kitchen for a dish of ice cream, “You girls want one?” he called back.

They both answered no. Lindsay smiled at Eleanor and mouthed the words thank you. She folded one of the posters and handed it to Eleanor who, by then, had promised to show it to the girls in her garden club.

On Sunday afternoon, while Lindsay was at the mall shopping for a pair of high heel boots that would look good with her jeans, Eleanor called Matthew at home. “Lindsay has this little dog she’s looking for and I’d appreciate it if you could help her find it.”

“What kind of a dog?” he asked.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Eleanor said, “but judging by the picture she has, it’s just a scruffy looking little white dog.”

“I don’t understand,” Matthew said, “…she wants to buy a dog, or this is a dog she lost?”

After another ten minutes of explanation they hung up. Matthew now knew three things he hadn’t known before—first, Lindsay was a little bit crazy, next, she was fixated on finding one particular dog and lastly, he liked her even more than he previously had.





Eleanor



Blessings sometimes come in strange disguises. Up until a few days ago, I could have sworn I’d die an old lady before Lindsay took a liking to me. John couldn’t see it, but I suspect that was because he didn’t want to see it. Oh Lindsay and I never had words, but it was the lack of words that let me know exactly how she felt.

The morning Mister Morrissey called her about the job I heard her cell phone ringing and spotted it laying there on the table. My first thought was to wish I were somewhere else, so the question of whether or not to answer the phone wasn’t mine. Given the way she’d been going out of her way to avoid me, I figured I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t. But you know the funny thing about life is sometimes when you’re looking to move away, The Good Lord plunks you down in just the right place at the right time.

That sure was the right time and place for me, because ever since that morning Lindsay has been downright pleasant. I always wanted a daughter and yesterday when we were sitting at the table talking about the different parts of our life, I could almost see Lindsay as belonging to me. Don’t misunderstand, Ray’s my son and I love him, but the boy is so like his daddy—it’s painful. I don’t think once in his whole life has Ray sat down and had a heart to heart talk with me. When he was growing up he used to leave me notes on the kitchen counter—not stuff about what good mother I was or anything like that—it was Ma, wash my gym stuff ‘cause I need it for tomorrow, or Ma, I don’t like bananas so please stop putting them in my lunch. He got that gravelly disposition from his daddy—Raymond didn’t have a warm fuzzy bone in his body.