Linny's Sweet Dream List (5 page)

Kate looked thoughtful. “I've noticed. Maybe it's too hard for her to talk about him.”

“Maybe.” Linny nodded, unconvinced. Something was going on.

“Right now, I'm more worried about you.” Her sister gave her a searching look. “How are you holding up?”

“I'm hanging in.” Linny felt her eyes prick, touched by her sister's concern.

“When are you going back to work?” Kate asked, pushing a stray lock of springy hair behind her ear.

“Wednesday of next week.” Linny felt bleak just thinking about it.

She raised a brow. “Didn't they give you two weeks of compassionate leave?”

Linny shrugged. “They did, but it's been hard for them to be short-staffed.”

Kate snorted. “Linny, stop worrying about them. Take care of you.”

“I know, I know. They need me, though.” Linny leaned heavily against the porch column. “I'm dreading it.” She rubbed her eyes with her fingers. “I've kept count. I've been involved in the layoffs of five hundred and sixty-two employees.”

Kate winced. “Cleaning up after bloodshed has to be hard. Once things settle out, maybe you can look for another job.”

Could she bear her job for much longer? She'd initially been hired by Kipling Outsourcing to do supervisory training, but a few years ago, her job changed. After small companies did layoffs, they sent her in to work with the shell-shocked, soon-to-be-ex-employees leading a class called Managing Career Change.

Looking out over the fields, she sipped her water. After college, she'd worked for a few different companies, drifted into this job, and ended up staying twelve years. “Last month, I did a class and was on break in the bathroom. Through the wall to the men's room I heard sobbing. It was a guy from my class.” Linny shivered. “These days, I'd rather clean rooms at Motel 6 than clean up after a layoff.”

“Please tell me you're not going to quit.” Kate's brows knit and she looked worried.

“I won't. I can't afford to,” Linny said wearily, and turned to Kate. “Am I going to get through this?”

“You will. Everything will be all right, Linny.” Kate wound an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze.

For a moment, Linny closed her eyes and let herself believe it.

Kate gave her a final pat. “I need to run.” After a prolonged goodbye smooch with Roy, she clicked on her seatbelt, and nosed the car down the driveway.

 

Monday afternoon, Linny wheeled the car into the tree-shaded lot of Red Oak Animal Hospital. After filling out the paperwork, she and the puppy took a seat and she tried to concentrate on the article, “Potty Train Your Puppy in Two Days.” A redhead wearing a uniform printed with fire hydrants beckoned her. “Dr. Avery is ready for you.”

In the examining room, Linny said, “Thanks for working us in.”

“We're happy to.” The smiling woman gave Roy's rump a scratch, and left.

The puppy wove in and out of her legs, and nibbled on the hem of her khakis. She grinned at him, extracted a chew toy from her purse, and tried to distract him from his pants-chewing mission.

A few moments later, a tall man stepped in, chart in hand. Wearing a white lab coat over a crisp, blue Oxford-cloth shirt, chinos, and white running shoes, he looked familiar.

He stuck out his hand. “I'm Jack Avery.”

She shook it. “I'm Linny Taylor, and this is Roy.”

The vet cocked his head and gave her a wicked grin. “Hello, again. Too sexy for your skin, right?”

Good grief. He was the man she'd beaned at the dumpster. She put her fingers to her mouth, and felt a hot wave of humiliation. “How is your head?”

His astonishing green eyes twinkled. “Fine and dandy.”

She leaned forward in her chair and her words came out in a rush. “That wasn't my real shirt, it was a gag gift. And those weren't my bottles. I found them and . . .” She trailed off. There was just too much to explain. “You must have thought I was awful.”

Jack looked at her gravely, and gave her a half smile. “I thought you were probably a nice lady with a lot on her mind.” He nodded as if to confirm what he'd said. “You must be Kate Andrews's sister. Ruthie said you'd be coming in today.”

“That's right.” She was so relieved he didn't think she was a nut, and knew that she was related to normal people. Indigo's Life of Gratitude and Joy affirmation for today was
Release the burden of worrying what other people think of you,
but that habit would be hard to shake. She glanced at his green eyes. She cared what this man thought of her more than she would like to admit.

“Kate and Jerry are fine people.” The vet slipped on a pair of half glasses and lifted the puppy to the metal table. “Let's take a look at this young man.” His big hands moved gently as he examined Roy. He glanced at her. “So you found this fellow?”

“I did.”

Roy gnawed at Jack's fingers as he lifted the puppy's lips to look at his teeth. “Looks to be about six to eight weeks old. Mostly Lab”—he pointed to black spots on Roy's tongue and his curled-up tail—“with other fine breeds in the mix. He's a handsome boy.”

“Thank you.” Linny felt foolishly proud of the compliment.

When the vet wasn't speaking in a calming tone to the puppy, he whistled under his breath.

Linny vaguely recognized the tune, but the title wouldn't come to her.

Roy chewed at the vet's stethoscope, and almost wriggled right off the table. She rose and steadied the puppy's rear end. Her hand accidentally brushed the vet's and she felt a jolt of crazy electricity. She inhaled sharply.
Good grief.
What was that about?

“Jerry's going to build an addition for us in the fall,” Jack said.

“Good,” she murmured, hearing the
us.
Of course, he'd be married. She saw no ring on his left hand, but his hands were probably in and out of icky animal things all day.

Craning her neck slightly, she tried to look at the back of his neck. Mary Catherine swore that if a married man's neck was hairy, the marriage was in trouble. If you added a crazy eyebrow or two, and ear hair, the marriage was in the death throes.

The vet caught her glance and raised a brow, but continued his examination. He felt Roy's roly-poly belly. “He's probably full of intestinal parasites. Let me check the stool sample you brought us.” The vet stepped out of the room.

She scratched Roy's ears, and examined the room for clues about the man. The examining room was built for business—just a chair, an examining table, and a counter. But tacked on a bulletin board above the counter were several photos of a young boy, along with a handmade Father's Day card and a crookedly block lettered banner that read # 1 DAD!! Linny held Roy over her shoulder like a baby and rubbed his back as she peered at them. In one that looked like a school picture, a skinny boy looked oddly formal in a coat and tie, his expression pensive.

Linny felt a stab of regret. Maybe she and Andy should have had babies right away instead of waiting until his accounting firm was up and running. They were always so practical. Just as he began to make money and work more normal hours, he died. She hugged the puppy, and tried to push away the scary thought that she might never have another chance for love and her own family.

Dr. Jack stepped back into the room. “He tested positive. We'll get him started on these.” He held up a pill package. “The dosing instructions are on the back.” The vet glanced at the chart. “I gave him his vaccinations. Ruthie can schedule Roy for a follow-up in three weeks. In two weeks, I'd like you to get him started on preventatives for heartworm and for fleas and ticks. You can get those from Ruthie.” Easing Roy to the floor, he gave him a final scratch. “Be good for your mama.” He handed her the lead.

“Right. Thank you.” Linny was very careful not to touch his fingers as she took it. Her heart couldn't take two lightning bolts in one day.

At the door, she paused, turned around and tilted her head toward the bulletin board. “How old is your son?”

He looked startled, but a smile spread across his face. “He's eleven. Neal's a real good boy.”

Linny smiled back, liking how proud he sounded. Jack Avery was a nice man.

At the checkout desk, Ruthie tsked as she searched through a cabinet. “I'm sorry, but we ran out of flea and tick preventative for pups his size. Our shipment comes in Thursday. Can you stop by sometime Friday to pick it up?”

“Sure.” Linny paid the bill with an iffy credit card, and exhaled as it went through.

The door to the clinic opened, and a petite blonde sailed in. Built like a Barbie doll, she wore a pink and green paisley dress. A grosgrain hair band held back her white-blonde bob. Her pink ballet flats didn't look like they'd caved through the bathroom floor of a trailer lately. She spoke in a breathy, little-girl voice. “Hey, Ruthie. Is Jack in?”

“Linny, you dropped Roy's pills,” the vet called, holding up the box as he walked toward her.

The blonde intercepted him, touching his arm. “Hey, honey.” She gave him a dazzling smile.

Jack's brows knit. “Oh. Hey, Vera.”

Of course this was the wife. She and the vet were probably high school sweethearts who'd married young, still swooned over each other after umpteen years of marriage, and had a darling son, to boot. Some women just got over-served in the blessing department. Linny tried not to stare, but couldn't help it. The blonde wife was so perfect—petite, creamy skinned, and polished.

Ignoring Linny, Vera held up a brochure and tapped it with a neat French-tipped nail. “The information about the after-school enrichment programs came today.” Pushing back a lock of hair, the stone on her left hand sparkled. “Do you have time to take me to lunch? We can make some decisions about which would be best.”

“All right,” Jack said evenly. He turned to Linny and handed her the wormer pills.

“Thanks.” Linny took it and, next to Miss French Tips, felt acutely aware of her own raggedy nails. Stepping back from the counter, she stumbled on the large, pink handbag Vera had set on the floor behind her, and gasped as she felt herself starting to fall.

Quickly, the vet reached out and steadied her.

Again, Linny felt the surging charge at the contact with him. She shot him a quick glance and exhaled quietly.
Jiminy
.

“Oh. I'm so sorry.” Vera's tone was sweet, but her eyes were appraising.

Linny scurried out, and wrestled wiggle worm Roy back into the car. Despite the oven-like interior, the car suddenly seemed like a haven. She flipped the air conditioning on Max and the vents blew cool for a moment, but then spewed only lukewarm air. Another thing she didn't have the money to fix. Maybe with her next paycheck. “Dang.” Linny fretted, trying to coax it along by turning it on and off. Finally, she switched it off, lifted the hair off her neck and rolled down the window.

Turning on the radio, she tried to distract herself. She'd kept it set to the classical station lately—one of Indigo's suggestions to calm jumpy nerves. As the sounds of an orchestra filled the air, an opera name flew into her head.
Madame Butterfly
. Jack was an opera fan. He'd been listening to an opera at the landfill, and whistling an aria from
Madame Butterfly
just now. She shook her head, even more intrigued with the truck-driving, opera-loving vet. She sighed. Why did the Veras of the world get to cherry-pick the interesting men?

By the time she pulled in the driveway, she'd given herself a good talking to, and about shaken off her funk. Her phone rang and Kate chirped, “How did the vet visit go?”

“Good.” She'd omit the part about the crazy electricity she'd felt. “You'll never guess who he is.”

Kate spoke in a tone of exaggerated patience. “I know the vet. I sent you to him, remember?”

“No. Jack Avery is the man I hit in the head with a bottle at the dump.”

“Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes.” Linny filled her in on the details.

“Oh, dear.” Her sister's laughter bubbled up.

Linny shook her head ruefully. “I make good first impressions.”

“Don't worry about it. I don't know him well, but my read on him is that he's a good guy with a sense of humor.”

Linny gave a world-weary sigh. “I met his wife. She's petite, stunning, and looks high maintenance.”

“I thought he was single. He doesn't seem the type to have a wife like that,” Kate said thoughtfully.

“Well, he seemed nice.” She tried to sound bland, but flushed remembering the arc of electricity she'd felt when she touched him. Last time she'd felt that kind of high voltage, she'd run off to Bermuda and married trouble. She shuddered, and vowed to steer clear of Jack Avery or die trying.

W
ednesday morning, Linny stood in the shower and let the hot water sluice over her face as she tried to psych herself up about her first day back at work. As she rinsed the soap from her hair, she'd snorted over this morning's personal affirmation.
Open your heart to the boundless grace, joy, and blessings of each day.
Easy for Indigo to say—she didn't teach Managing Career Change programs. But Linny read it again, and tried her best to take it to heart.

Something brushed her calf, and when she looked down a giant hairy spider whizzed crazily against her leg. Heart pounding, she sprang from the shower, and dripping, peered around the curtain at the creature. She shuddered. Where there was one, there was probably a whole hive or pride or pack or whatever you call a bunch of spiders. But, dang it, it was her shower. Pulse racing, she threw her bath towel over the bug, and scooped it up.

Buck-naked, Linny marched through the house, stepped outside, and shook the bundle. Surprised at her own bravery, she grinned as she walked back to the bathroom. She'd summon grace, joy, and blessings, but in the meantime, she'd do what needed to be done.

 

Forty-five minutes later, Linny pulled away from Kate and Jerry's house. In the rearview mirror, she watched a sleepy-eyed Kate hold Roy against her pink flannel robe and wave his little paw goodbye. Linny swallowed hard. Good grief. How did mothers make it through their child's first day at school? She gave a final glance back and cracked a smile—Kate had Lyle Lovett hair this morning.

As she pulled onto the interstate, her stomach churned at the thought of being back at work. She'd thought she was ready, but she wasn't. She was too raw and disoriented to act like a competent professional. Why had she agreed to go back early? Linny tried to remember one of Indigo's dances but drew a blank. She sighed as she rolled into the parking lot of Kipling Outsourcing.

As she pushed the button for the eighth floor, Linny took a deep breath, trying to quell her rising panic. Nervously, she gave herself a once-over in the mirrored door of elevator, and was surprised at how presentable she looked for a woman who'd had to rummage through three packing boxes to find her pumps. She tried to flex her cramped toes and sighed. Nine days of wearing running shoes had been heaven.

As she opened the door to her office, she stopped short. A woman sat at
her
desk, looking at
her
laptop, and talking on
her
phone. Linny felt a wave of hot irritation when she recognized Annalise, the brainy new hire with the chic asymmetrical haircut and slightly superior attitude. Linny tried to sound cordial. “Good morning, Annalise.”

The young woman jumped, but held up a finger to quiet Linny while ending her call. As she replaced the receiver, she said coolly, “Hi, Linny. We're short on offices. Walt said find whatever space I could and, well, you've been away.” Her eyes glinted behind her hipster glasses. “Sorry.”

But she didn't sound sorry, and she took her time about gathering her papers from the desk and slipping them in a binder. The blood pounded in Linny's ears, and she tried to slow her breath as she fought the urge to say,
Yes, it took a little time to bury my husband.
Instead, she nodded, willed her blood pressure back down, and waited for her to leave.

Annalise was two steps into the hallway when she paused and called over her shoulder, “I'm sorry about . . . your loss.”

Automatically, Linny said, “Thank you,” but the young woman was already gone. Smarting from the rudeness, she sat, but quickly stood up. The chair was still warm from the new hire's skinny bottom. She'd get a cup of coffee and let the chair—and her temper—cool off.

En route to the break room, she tried to slow her breathing. When had Annalise become so pushy? Before Linny had gone on leave, Annalise was assigned to shadow her for a week. She'd asked earnest questions, and taken detailed notes. Linny had been impressed with her, and more than a little bit flattered.

As she waited for the coffee machine to finish dripping, Linny closed her eyes briefly, breathed in the scent of hazelnut, and tried to remember the chapter she'd read yesterday—another dance she'd had trouble visualizing. Indigo was pushing it with her suggestion to
Frug with the fox through fear and frustration
. Finally, the coffee was done and, gratefully, she lifted the cup.

Her boss, Walt, strode into the break room and boomed, “Good morning.”

Linny jostled her cup, and hot coffee splashed her fingers.
Dang
. Putting the cup down carefully, she mopped up as she tried to smile at him. “Good morning, Walt.”

“Linny, I hate that we're having this same conversation again, after such a short time. We are so sorry about the loss of your husband.” He clasped her hands with his baseball-mitt-sized hands.

She nodded her thanks. It was a déjà vu moment. She'd had this exact same conversation with Walt three years ago when she'd lost a husband worth mourning. “Thanks for the flowers, Walt. I really appreciate all your calls and support.”

“Well, when a member of the team takes a hit, we all take a hit.” He nodded vigorously, and gave her a searching gaze. “Are you sure you're ready to be back at work? We want you to take all the time you need to . . . feel better.”

For a moment, Linny felt warmed by his words, but reminded herself of the urgent subtext of his calls.
We're thinking of you
was followed by mention of Kipling being awarded a big, new contract. Walt had managed to work in that they
were running wide open,
and
trying to make it work despite being one man down.
He needed her back at work as quickly as possible.

As they gathered for the staff meeting, Linny acknowledged her colleagues' expressions of sympathy while cringing internally. Accepting condolences made her feel like such a hypocrite. She was sorry about Buck, too, but not in the way they thought.

Walt kicked off the meeting, and met her eyes. “We're all glad to have you back, Linny. We sure missed you, although”—He pointed a thumb at the young woman—“Annie here has been a big help filling in.”

Annalise kept her eyes demurely down and gave a modest smile.

Linny blinked. When had Annalise become Annie? Eight months ago, when she was still an intern, Annalise had expounded on a new theory she'd learned in her management class, and Linny had widened her eyes at Walt. He'd given her a lightning fast wink. She thought they'd both pegged the girl as full of herself.

But something had changed. Linny folded her hands and watched carefully as the meeting progressed. Was Walt using an almost deferential tone with the girl? Linny was one of the few people at Kipling who knew that her boss did not have a college degree, and that it bothered him. Walt had been too impressed with Annalise's degree from Duke. During college basketball season, he would open staff meetings by checking with Annalise on how the Blue Devils were doing. It always burned Linny up. Her two years at a community college and transfer to finish at State University didn't have the same cachet. She blinked and tried to focus on the meeting. Indigo always said to
stay fully in the present.

Walt detailed the upcoming projects. “We have a lot going on here, people, so we need one hundred and ten percent commitments from each of you.” He glanced around the table, as if challenging them to object.

Everyone looked serious and nodded.

Jarrod groaned when he was assigned a plant closing in Newark, and Aaron gloated over a new project in Las Vegas. “I'm putting it all on red, baby,” he crowed.

“We have something that's sure to boost your spirits, Linny—a contract to help with a layoff in sunny California.” He beamed expectantly, and Linny's mouth opened and closed, carp-like.

She suddenly knew with desperate certainty that she did not want to go to California with the hatchet team. She just couldn't. How could she encourage employees reeling from bad news when she was dealing with so much of her own bad news? She spoke hesitantly, “Walt, can I think about this, and get back to you about it? I have some commitments . . .”

Walt raised his caterpillar-like eyebrows at her and looked confused.

This was her own fault. She never said no to him. Thoughts sped around her brain. She was the faithful foot soldier—the one who turned on the lights in the morning, the first employee back at work after a snowstorm. Dutiful, that was the word. She didn't know if she could do dutiful anymore.

Annalise's clear voice rang out. “I'd love to work the California job. I've looked over the material, and it seems pretty straightforward.”

Linny felt the back of her neck prickle and had a gut feeling that Annalise had rifled through her desk and examined her Instructor's Manual for the Managing Career Change class. Studying her, she noticed the girl's teeth as she talked. Her two incisors protruded crookedly. She looked feral.

The young woman shot her a defiant look, and returned to her demure casting-down-of-her-eyes shtick. “I know I don't have quite all the experience I need, Walt, but you could coach me.”

Linny simmered. Didn't quite have the experience? She didn't have a fraction of the experience she needed to work sensitively with people in turmoil. Trying to calm herself, Linny realized she was feeling angry possessiveness about a program she didn't want to lead. But Annalise would muck it up and Linny couldn't let that happen. Just as she was about to insist she go to California, she heard a voice in her head that sounded a lot like Mary Catherine's.
Keep your hand down, Miss Good Girl. You don't want to do this.

After a beat of silence, Walt backpedaled gracefully. “I tell you what, let's not decide now. We'll look at our resources, and revisit this in the morning.”

As the team shuffled out of the meeting room, Linny hung behind, and murmured to her boss, “Walt, do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Sure.” He motioned her toward a seat at the table, and closed the door.

Linny began hesitantly, “I've been thinking about my role here at Kipling. I'm grateful for all the opportunities you've given me, but I'm wondering if I could change how I contribute to the organization.” Her mouth was dry as she just blurted it out. “Walt, I'm burned out on layoffs. It was never a good fit for me, and I don't want to do it anymore.”

Walt blinked, and laced his fingers on his ample stomach. “But you're so good at it. Clients give you top ratings.”

Linny leaned forward, and slowly enunciated each syllable. “But I don't like it.”

He cocked his head. “What would you rather do?”

Linny hadn't thought it through completely. Ideas careened around as crazily as the hairy spider in the shower, and she said in a halting voice, “I liked what I did before—training supervisors, customer service training, orienting new employees . . .” Walt's bushy brows undulated like two traveling caterpillars, and she trailed off.

He waved a hand dismissively. “They don't call on us much for that these days. Rightsizing has become our niche. Our clients want our help to run lean businesses, and turn profits for shareholders.” He shook his head, looking frustrated. “Linny, this is what we do. I can't redesign your job just because you're tired of layoffs.” He blew out a noisy sigh, but then gave her a sympathetic look. “Maybe you just need to take the rest of the week off. You've had a rough go of it.”

Linny felt a lick of panic in her gut. What had she done? Just because she was having some existential crisis about not liking her work didn't mean she needed to blab about it to her boss. She tried to sound peppy. “I don't need any more time off, Walt. I'm okay. Really I am.”

He held up a hand. “Linny, I insist. Take a long weekend, and come back ready to tackle the work.”

She knew Walt well enough to know his mind was made up. Pasting a smile on her face, she said in a too bright voice, “Okay, then, Walt. I'll be back, bright and early Monday morning.” He glanced at his watch, and she knew the meeting was over.

 

As Linny walked out of the lobby into the sauna of the summer morning, she wondered how long Annalise would take to reclaim her office, and felt herself get even hotter.

Linny made a terse call to her sister to tell her she was picking up the puppy early. Her hands trembled on the wheel, as she reviewed every nuance of the conversation with Walt, looking for clues. He'd said it was just time off, but was it more than that?

By the time she'd pulled up at her sister's house, she'd worked herself into a state. In the front yard, a barefoot Kate clapped as Roy pulled one end of a knotted rope, and Delilah pulled the other. When she saw Linny, she whistled at the dogs in a piercing
whewt-whew
. The dogs trotted over. Head cocked, she walked toward the driveway.

Linny had barely stepped from the car when she called out, “Kate, they sent me home.”

“Good,” Kate chirped. “You need it.” She picked up Roy and held him in her arms.

“The new hire is ruining my life. She's sucking up to Walt, and he's probably plotting an exit strategy for me.” She groaned as she sat down heavily in a porch rocker.

“Any basis for that little theory?” Kate handed the pup to Linny.

“Not really.” But she told Kate about Annalise's behavior and her big blab.

“You were just being honest, and she sounds like an arrogant young woman.” Kate put her hands on her hips. “Are you going to worry for the next four days?”