“Buddy!” she repeated with even more excitement.
He instantly lost interest and turned his attention back to Ali.
“Rocky!”
He wasn’t even looking at her.
“Bear!”
He yawned, still focused on Ali.
“Duke!” her voice was so high-pitched Ali was worried she was going to shatter the window beside them.
“Sampson!”
Finally, mercifully, the boys called the dog back over to them and he ran away happily.
Chrissy regrouped without a moment’s hesitation. “I think the problem was that he’s not familiar with me. I’m sure if you work with him to find a more appropriate alternative to—”
“Chrissy, dear!” Mrs. D approached the women while leaning heavily on her walking cane. “I think I heard your daughter calling for you in the bouncy castle. She sounded upset.”
Chrissy was off, her invisible Supermom cape flapping in the breeze as she called out, “Tamara! Mommy’s coming!”
“Is she okay?”
“No. Definitely not.” Mrs. D shook her head and Ali reached to grab her phone in case they needed to call an ambulance. Kade had ordered the bouncy house to entertain the younger kids since this was a party for all ages. If he’d run it past her she would’ve told him that those things were inflatable injuries-waiting-to-happen.
Before Ali unlocked the screen, Mrs. D continued, “She’s the epitome of not okay. That woman is wound tighter than a minister’s wife’s girdle.”
“I’m talking about Tamara.”
“Oh,” Mrs. D shrugged, appearing wholly unconcerned. “I’m sure she’s fine. I hadn’t heard a peep out of her. I was just saving you from more dog training lessons.”
A grin pulled at Ali’s mouth as she shook her head. “You scared Chrissy.”
“Eh,” Mrs. D huffed dismissively. “It’s probably the most excitement that woman’s had in a decade. She’s a sweet girl but she needs to remove the stick from her ass.”
Ali chuckled.
“So, this is quite a shindig.” Mrs. D scanned the backyard. “I thought the boys didn’t want a party?”
It was still mindboggling to Ali that the Needlepoint Mafia knew so much. Ali often wondered if the women had everyone’s houses bugged.
“They changed their minds, I guess. Teenagers.” Ali didn’t feel the need to fill Mrs. D in on the details of their change of heart. Chances were she’d find out on her own anyway.
“Well, I’m glad they did.” Her hand covered Ali’s. She gave her a little squeeze and Ali was once again blown away by how cold Mrs. D’s hands always were. It was in the mid-nineties and her hands were like human icicles. “Now, why haven’t I heard back from you about tomorrow night’s meeting?”
“Tomorrow night?” Knitting club wasn’t until Tuesday, so she had no idea what Mrs. D was talking about.
“Yes. Didn’t you get my email?”
Mrs. D had a tendency of writing emails and then forgetting to send them. It was an issue that was well documented but if anyone brought it up she blamed the computer or the recipient.
“I didn’t see it, I’m sorry.”
“It must’ve gone to spam. Well, who needs computers when you can talk in person? I’m calling a small council dinner meeting to go over the advertising budget for the upcoming season. Be at Santino’s at seven. Sharp.”
Since retiring as a teacher, Mrs. D had formed The Whisper Lake Tourist Association. All of the small business owners were members and Ali had been treasurer for the last year. Mrs. D had insisted that to get over Patrick’s death she needed to “keep busy” so she’d appointed her to the post without her knowledge or consent. Mrs. D liked to say that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission…not that Ali had ever heard her ask for either.