“Evie, is this okay?” asks a volunteer.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I reply, still in a daze until I realize that the pup is practically dragging the woman across the lawn to chase a butterfly. I snap into action, gaining both the puppy’s and the volunteer’s attention, and I quickly run back over the instructions on how to get the puppies to mind their manners on the leash.
We go on and on like this for a time, and I can’t seem to keep myself from checking my phone every c
ouple of minutes to see if Jake has texted me. Wow. I’m pathetic. I’ve gone from an independent woman to a needy girlfriend overnight. Actually, I’m not even his girlfriend. Just a needy girl with a Texas-sized crush on the guy she’s seeing.
Finally, the workday is over, and I’m on my way home. I feel so let down from not hearing from Jake that I think my arms are actually dragging on the ground as I walk. There’s sad music playing in my head, and I’m just about to break out in a melancholy ballad and let my hands drag across a field of wheat when I hear my phone ringing in my purse.
I pause on the sidewalk right outside of a bakery and grab my phone out of my purse. I don’t even look at the caller ID because I’m certain that it’s Jake. I think we have that special telekinesis that couples get when they’ve been together a long time. Technically, we’ve only been together for the span of one date (which was last night), but we connected on such a deep level that I don’t think we need the same amount of time that other people do to develop couple superpowers.
“Helllloooo.” My flirtatious tone is dialed up to ten.
“Evelyn Grace, why do you sound like an inappropriate phone operator of some sort?” Ugh. Mama. Apparently, Jake and I do need a little more time for those superpowers to kick in.
“How would you even know what one of those ladies sounds like, Mama?”
She’s quiet for a second, and I take that opportunity to give myself a tally in the book of Evie vs. Melony I started a few years ago. My therapist says it’s not healthy, but what does she really know, anyways?
Mama apparently doesn’t have a good rebuttal for that question, so she decides not to answer it. “I’m sure you’re busy petting puppies, so I’ll make this quick.” I think she has a tally book too and is probably adding a tick to her column right now, but she would be wrong. That one didn’t even hurt, because ha ha, the joke’s on her, I already did my puppy petting this morning, and it was a lovely way to spend my time as well as an important part of socializing the new pups.
I decide to sit on the bench outside of the bakery to finish this chat instead of continuing my walk home, because I have a feeling that I’m going to need some carb therapy after I hang up. “Very kind of you to consider my time,” I say and lean over to pet Charlie’s head.
“I’ll cut right to the chase. I want you to come to the house for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Umm thanks, but no thanks.”
“If you would have let me finish, you would have heard why I want you to come to dinner.”
I wince and shut my eyes because I can smell a Melony Jones special coming down the line. A fancy dinner that costs more than my whole week's worth of groceries, dessert that melts in my mouth, and a big ol’ helping of manipulation on the side.
“I would like for you to come to dinner because your daddy and I have decided to make a sizable donation to your little dog business.” Yep. There it is.
“Actually, our dogs are pretty large,” I say, but Mama doesn’t snicker because I don’t think she knows how to laugh at a joke. Jake would have laughed. I let out a long sigh and decide to be serious to get this over with faster. “A donation would be great. Feel free to make one at the benefit.”
A family is walking by me, and I can see that they so badly want to stop and pet Charlie. Most people are pretty good about not storming up to pet him without permission. But occasionally, I get a few who don’t understand that he is a working dog and will get right down on the ground and start loving on him without my consent. It’s hard. Not only because it usually makes me have to stop whatever I’m doing, but because it distracts Charlie when I need him to be his most alert. But I try to give everyone as much grace as possible since I know it’s difficult to ignore a dog as adorable and fluffy as Charlie.
But I’d be lying if I said I’m not relieved, though, when the family passes by me without stopping.
“Well, of course, we will make a donation at the benefit, but we would also like to make a special donation separate from the fundraiser.” Oh, Mama. I wish so badly she would stop trying to pull these puppet strings all day. I’m tired of dancing for her.
I’m halfway tempted to turn down her offer, but I can’t. We’re desperate for the money. More money means more dogs we can give away to those who need them. I would feel terrible knowing that I had to turn someone away who couldn’t afford the high-ticket price of our dogs because I was too insecure to have dinner with my parents. “And I’m guessing there is no way you would consider just mailing us a check?”
Mama makes a scoffing sound. “You know, Evelyn, you are starting to sound rather ungrateful for my offer. Maybe we won’t give an additional donation since it sounds as if you’re not in great need after all.”
I sigh so loudly I’m sure it sounds like a windstorm on Mama’s end. Looks like I’m going to be dancing tomorrow night. “All right, all right, I’ll be there. What time?”
I can practically hear the wrinkles creasing around my mama’s mouth as her lips form a smug smile. “Dinner is at 7:00. And please, for heaven’s sake, be punctual. We will have a few other important guests at dinner who I’m sure would be more than happy to pull out their checkbooks if you make a good impression. So, come wearing that winning smile I taught you back in your pageant days and a dress with a hemline that hits below the knee.” There is no doubt in my mind that this is all one big trap. I wish I knew what it was so I could be prepared before I get caught in it.
“I’ll be sure and pick up my nun costume from the dry cleaner.”
“Evelyn Grace, don’t you da—”
I hang up, and my phone immediately starts ringing again.
“I wasn’t serious. I don’t even own a nun costume,” I say, standing up and starting to walk home. I don’t feel like eating my feelings anymore. My stomach is twisting uncomfortably now that I know I have to go to my parents’ house for dinner.
“That’s too bad. I bet you’d make a sexy nun.”