Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(6)
Maybe she should have taken Grant’s advice and rented a car. Liz set the soup down on the pet crate at her feet. Eddie didn’t take well to being boarded, and driving fourteen hours with a cranky, motion-sick cat as her only companion held less appeal than sitting outside the airport, slurping congealing, overpriced soup. Liz watched the sun sink toward the horizon and breathed a sigh of relief as her sister’s minivan swerved to a stop in front of her.
“I know. I’m late!” Trish leapt from the van and flung open the rear door. “Be back in a minute. I need to change Clara’s diaper. I think we have a major blow-out.” Trish’s hair appeared a little wilder than usual, and it looked suspiciously like she had her T-shirt on inside out.
“Oh. Sure.” Liz wasn’t precisely sure what ‘blow-out’ meant, but it didn’t sound good from the looks of Trish’s expression.
Trish tossed Liz her keys, waving vaguely with her free hand. “Just drive around a few times if they complain, but I’m gonna need running water for this.” With that, she disappeared inside the terminal, blithely parading by the security guy who was trying to get her attention.
Liz opened the rear slider and came face to face with Max, Trish’s black Lab.
She body-blocked Max, dumping soup down her sleeve, and reassured the security guy she was not taking the dog out of the car. Max lapped her wrist helpfully, slobbering all over her dry-clean-only Anne Klein jacket as she tried to close the door again. “In! Get in, Max! I know. I sympathize. But you can’t get out here. That security guy is not happy with us.” Max’s dark eyes pleaded with Liz through the window, and he gave a plaintive woof. Relenting, she cracked the door open a little. His nose wriggled giddily at the opening.
“Good doggie,” she said, patting his snout. His nose was wet and clammy, but the fur on his head was soft and silky, and Liz decided even though he was a tad pushy, Max wasn’t so bad. He’d actually mellowed with age.
They’d never had pets growing up. Mom didn’t like animals in general—too much work—so she and Trish had always talked about how when they were grown-ups they’d have a menagerie: dogs, cats, birds, ferrets. They’d said ‘menagerie’ after Liz had read the word in Doctor Doolittle and decided it sounded both wonderful and exotic all at the same time.
Then Trish had gotten pregnant at eighteen, married Russ, adopted Max before Ben was even born and pronounced herself an idiot for getting a dog and having a baby in the same year. Liz looked down at Eddie’s crate, his golden fur jutting out the air vents of his crate as he snoozed. A big, dumb dog and a one-eyed tomcat between them. So much for menageries.
Liz loaded her suitcase and the pet carrier in the back of the van and found a box of wet-wipes to blot at her sleeve.
Trish returned, the baby carrier knocking the terminal’s doors even as they tried to whoosh themselves out of the way. “It’s good you’ve eaten,” Trish said, lurching forward. “Just so you know, I went by the house and left some cereal and turned on the fridge. Take-out menus are on the counter.” Trish slammed the rear hatch closed and clicked baby Clara’s bucket seat into its base before Liz could blink. “I’ll swing by and take you grocery shopping Wednesday morning, but I’ve got back-to-back crazy until then.”
“Wednesday?”
“Yeah, I know. But, after I drop the twins at preschool, I’ve got to swing back down here tomorrow to drop Russ off for an early flight. Ben has an eye appointment in the afternoon, then track practice. Tuesday is preschool for the twins again, then I’ve got a meeting with Ben’s teachers, then karate, and if I drive after sunset, Clara screams the whole time. It’s enough to drive you insane.”
The way Trish’s eyes looked slightly manic over the hood of the car convinced Liz this was not an overstatement. Of course, keeping track of four children, three of which were under five could do that to a person.“Wednesday is fine. It’ll give me time to work up a list of things I’ll need for the house.”
Liz opened the passenger door, surreptitiously swept a few crumbs to the floor with her palm, and sank into her seat. It didn’t matter if she had food. She’d be happy to be in her own space. After that awful flight, it felt good to breathe fresh air and stretch her legs again.
Trish flumped into the driver’s seat and threw her oversized tote on Liz’s feet. “Oh, and I got some food and cat litter for Eddie back there for when he comes round again.”
“Thanks.”
Trish pulled away from the curb. “Before I forget, I brought over a few potted plants to dress up the front porch, and I left a can of mis-tint paint I picked up cheap on the kitchen counter. I thought it’d be good to recoat the front door. It’s flaking like my elbows in winter.”
“I’m painting the front door, too?”
“God, yes. And trim the bushes. Seriously, they look like Audrey from Little Shop of Horrors. Though Dad’s tulips are starting to bloom, so there’s some nice color, at least.”
“Right.” Liz held the dash as Trish blithely cut off a surly looking guy in a pickup.
“Did you know they were planning to sell?” Liz asked, scootching her sister’s bag aside before her feet started to fall asleep.
Trish took a giant gulp out of a travel mug and shrugged, ignoring the rude gesture from the pickup’s driver. “Mom and Dad? They’ve been talking about it for ages. It only makes sense. With them living in Florida most of the year, it’s crazy to keep up two places. And they’re not getting any younger. Dad’s already onto replacement body parts.”