Dana remained at lunch until the last possible minute, fascinated by Lillie’s profession as a child life specialist. She’d never heard of such a thing before, but could see where it was needed. And she wished, for a long moment, that she could pursue her own heart’s desire, to be a veterinarian and really make a difference to the animals she loved, the animals that also contributed so much healing in the world.
And then, thankful that she was in Shelter Valley at all, that she had a chance at a better future than she’d thought, she rushed off to class. She had an hour of lecture to sit through and then it was on to Josh’s house to play with Little Guy for half an hour.
Josh’s scent, his presence, was everywhere in the house. And to her it seemed to be in the backyard, too. She couldn’t get away from him. Even when he wasn’t there. Even when she wasn’t there.
Because he was something else she wanted, but knew she’d never have. And that was fine. She could lust in secret. There was no law against that.
She had friends. A home. People who needed her. Who valued her.
A mother, and sisters, too, who loved her.
Yep, she was one lucky woman.
* * *
JOSH MADE IT THROUGH his first day on the job. The work, overseeing the planning and implementing of fund-raising ventures for the university, while not completely up his alley, was still interesting. And he figured he’d ultimately be good at it, since it would include talking rich people out of money—something he’d been doing most of his life.
First with his parents and later with clients.
His biggest challenge on the new job was learning to take orders.
But compared to Michelle, who’d be spending the rest of her life tied to a chair, he figured his challenge was not even worth thinking about. He’d adapt. Acclimate.
He hoped to find ways to help the university that no one had ever thought of before. Find ways to help more people like Dana—people who weren’t born with silver spoons in their mouths—get the educations they deserved.
He didn’t see her at all on Monday, but he could tell she’d been in his home when he stopped in for lunch and when he arrived home after work. Her fresh, flowery scent lingered. It was nice. Light. Nothing like the heavy, expensive perfumes he was used to.
He thought about dinner. He really needed to shop for food. And wasn’t sure what he’d buy. All he had at home was peanut butter. It had been his weakness, starting as a kid, to his mother’s horror. She’d have preferred him to like hummus sandwiches. But their housekeeper back then, an older woman named Emily who’d died way too young, had introduced him to peanut butter when he’d been about two.
He’d been hooked ever since.
He could throw a frozen dinner in the oven. But who in the hell ate dinner out of a box?
Unless the box bore the emblem of a decent pizza place. Standing outside with Little Guy, he looked into the big brown pleading eyes, pulled out his smartphone and searched for pizza places.
A couple of choices come up on the screen. Touching the first link and pushing the call button, he ordered a supreme thin-crust pizza, and was told that it would arrive within the half hour. Then he noticed the puppy was rubbing his ear in his own shit.
This whole average Joe thing was going to be a lot harder than he’d thought.
* * *
SHARON HAD BEEN ABLE TO get back into her house Monday afternoon. Her eldest daughter, an elementary schoolteacher in Phoenix, had driven up to help her mother clean up after the miniflood she’d had in her bathroom.
Finished with her homework by seven, Dana made one of her favorite casseroles, split it into separate portions and froze them. She talked on the phone to a couple of classmates. Had a call from Cassie regarding a possible puppy for Abraham Swartz.
Then she made a ground-beef barbecue mixture, split it into patties and put them in the freezer next to the buns she’d bought. Jerome, her short-on-cash, laundry-date classmate, usually came over hungry.
Lori missed home cooking, too.
She’d noticed Josh Redmond’s refrigerator and freezer had been almost completely empty when she’d been there that afternoon. She’d been searching for the canned dog food he’d received from the clinic—planning to give Little Guy just a bite or two as a treat for being such a good boy—and had found a single jar of peanut butter.
And beer.
A fifty-pound bag of puppy chow stood in a corner of the laundry room. She’d scooped up a handful of the dry stuff and fed it by hand to the happy pup.
She knew the puppy wasn’t going to go hungry.
She wasn’t so sure about the owner.
Dana glanced at the clock. It was only eight o’clock.
She opened the newly packed freezer. Grabbed various containers, buns and a bag to put them all in, called out a goodbye to Kari and Billy the hamster and was in her car, headed back to Josh’s place before she really thought about what she was doing.