Cupid's Christmas (Serendipity #3)(48)
She is such a sweetie, Gerald and I will be sad to see her go.
As for your generous offer of a reward, please be assured that none is necessary. Having Fluffy with us for the past month has been reward enough.
Yours truly, Jayne Rayner
A wave of guilt passed over Matthew because he knew he was taking the dog from someone who had obviously become fond of her. The guilt came and went in less than thirty seconds and before Matthew’s first appointment walked through the door, he’d spoken to Herman Goodman and made the necessary arrangements to have the dog crated and shipped to the Philadelphia airport.
Throughout the remainder of that day and for the week following, Matthew walked around with a smile stuck on his face. And as if that weren’t enough, he bought five huge red poinsettias and placed them all over the reception room. Long before the calendar was flipped over to December, he began wishing everyone he met a Merry Christmas.
“Aren’t you a little early?” Mary Ellen McNamara said, but Matthew just smiled and handed her bulldog a free chew toy.
Love…I still enjoy watching what it does to humans. And, despite my age, which is something I refuse to discuss, I’m always ready to learn new things. This experience has been an eye-opener and even though it, at times, has been a test of my patience, I’ve learned a valuable lesson. Oh, I know the logic you humans use, and more than likely you think what I’ve learned is not to mess with Life Management—wrong. What I’ve learned is how to use all this internet technology to my advantage.
For centuries I’ve been doing everything by hand, individual one on one love matches—I hover over them to make sure the male says the right thing and the female smiles the right way. Yeah, it works well, but it’s a time killer. Oh there are still going to be cases where it’s necessary, but then there are others…
On these repairs, I’ve got a plan that’s nothing short of brilliant. The Boss wants me to give them back the romance they once had and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. If this works out the way I believe it will, I might actually get to take a day off—I’m thinking maybe Christmas.
Cupid…Tis the Season
Matthew picked up the dog at Philadelphia Airport nine days before Christmas. The fur ball arrived in a wire crate with a flannel pad on the bottom that had a price tag of $12.98 stuck to it. That was it—one small dog in need of a haircut, one pad and the wire crate—no toy, no water, no leash. Crating and shipping the dog had cost almost five hundred dollars, but Matthew had been happy to pay it. After he signed for the shipment and walked away carrying the crate, he stopped, bought a bottle of water, and asked for a paper cup. He squatted down, opened the cage door and reached for the dog. She approached him cautiously, sniffing, stopping, sniffing again then moving forward. She lapped the water and as she drank, Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out a small milk bone biscuit. She sniffed it then pushed it away with her nose.
“Oh, so you’re not hungry,” he laughed. “Okay then, let’s head for home.”
He scooped the dog into his right arm, hooked the fingers of his left hand onto the cage and walked out of the airport and across to the parking lot. The crate was tossed into the trunk and the dog rode in the front seat alongside Matthew.
“I’ve got a very important job for you,” he said and as he spoke the dog tipped its head to the right as if it were listening intently. Impossible Matthew muttered, impossible.
That first night he took the dog back to his house, but the following morning she went with him to the Kindness Animal Clinic. Instead of assigning the job of grooming the scruffy-looking dog to Tom, the new assistant he’d hired, Matthew did it himself. In fact he spent almost all morning bathing the dog, adding a conditioner, clipping her hair and trimming her nails. Although the dog trembled when he first began to clip the knots from her hair, she soon settled down and when he wrapped her in a soft terry towel, the dog stretched her neck and began licking his hand.
“Lindsay’s gonna love you,” he whispered in the dog’s ear.
Again the dog cocked its head to first the right and then the left.
“You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?” Matthew mumbled, it was a rhetorical question directed more to himself than the dog, but at precisely that moment the dog moved forward and licked his face. He laughed. “Lindsay’s right, you are trying to tell us something.”
Eight days and counting—Matthew had eight days to hold onto this secret, and after seeing the grin on his face, I had to question whether he’d be able to do it.
That evening as they sat on the sofa even Lindsay noticed how his face was molded into a perpetual grin. They were watching an episode of Criminal Minds, a particularly gruesome one at that, certainly not something to smile about. Lindsay glanced over a number of times then turned her eyes back to the television. Something was up, she was sure of it. When the third murder victim was found in a dumpster, Lindsay looked over at Matthew again. He was still wearing the same silly grin and she could stand it no longer.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked.
“No,” Matthew answered, “Why?”
“Well you’re acting very strange.”