Page 43 of The Love Shack

Pouncing on that, Betty asked, “Why? Are you unwell?”

With her gaze seeking out Whitley, who studiously brushed a cat with her face averted, Berkley asked, “Did someone say I was unwell?”

The entirely fake laugh wouldn’t fool anyone. “I’m on my way,” Betty sang.

Sang.It was absurd. To many, Betty was a dragon. The woman didnotsing. “You’re up to something.”

“Visiting a friend, so sue me.”

“Fine.” Berkley was only wasting energy debating it on the phone. “Drive safely.” As soon as she disconnected, she approached Whitley, but before she could say a word or question her, Erin, her other part-time worker, pulled up.

That made two who’d come in early.

“Morning, all,” Erin called. “With all the rain we’ve had, I figured I could lend a hand here before I get started on the paperwork for the week. Fortunately, the ten-day forecast shows only clear skies, so we’ll be past this little crisis in no time.”

Honestly, Berkley was glad for the help. No one hustled like Erin. “Two of the dogs need baths.” That particular word caused some of the dogs to howl, while Hero leaped in hopeful joy. He did love his baths. “Make that three dogs.”

They’d just gotten set up and were starting when Betty arrived.

She emerged from her car with a lot of fanfare—while shining some light on this morning’s mysteries. “Oh good, you’re both here.”

Whitley and Erin winced with guilt.

See? Berkley knew something was afoot.

“Berkley, you need to go sit down before you fall down. We’ll take Hero in with us, and would you mind fetching Gladys? I always enjoy visiting with her.”

Betty and the older dog, Gladys, had gotten very friendly over the last few weeks. “I don’t think—”

Her protest got cut short when Betty removed two bags from her back seat. “These pastries are for you to share,” she said to Whitley and Erin. “My small way of thanking you for your help today.”

Erin and Whitley looked at each other, then grinned. Usually they were wary of Betty, and with good reason.

Berkley, however, was used to Betty’s kinder side. She waved a hand. “Go on, you two. Take a break and enjoy the snack.”

“You’re not mad?” Erin asked her.

“About the organized interference?” She wondered who had instigated it, but she’d put her money on Betty. “Of course not. I appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

“You really do look kaput,” Whitley said.

“I’ll take care of her,” Betty announced. “Now, where’s Gladys?”

With a grin, Whitley said, “Go on in. I’ll bring her to you.”

A few minutes later, in Berkley’s home with fresh coffee and a half-eaten cake donut in front of her, she accepted defeat. She really was kaput.

The second Gladys had come in, she’d greeted Betty with pure joy and hadn’t quite settled down yet. The dog was a chunky thing, a mutt with short yellow fur, a thick body, small head and stubby legs that didn’t match her length.

She seemed to want Betty to hold her, and kept hopping as if trying to get into Betty’s lap. Betty finally said, “Oh, sweetheart. We don’t have the right body types for jumping.”

Berkley snorted a surprised laugh. When Betty frowned at her, she laughed even more. Exhaustion and hilarity did not go well together. She kept seeing Gladys and Betty as comparable body types and it’d set her off again. She was near tears by the time she wound down, and couldn’t catch her breath without coughing. Poor Hero began to fret.

“Do you allow him on the furniture?”

“Of course,” Berkley said. “This is Hero’s home, too.”

“Then let’s go to the living room and get comfortable so these poor dogs can relax.”

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