Page 54 of A Line in the Sand
The lobster in his arms barked and wagged her tail. Max cleared his throat, suddenly having no idea what to do with himself. He felt wholly out of place, like a boring, colorless relic in a world that had instantly turned rainbow bright. He had a fierce pang of sympathy for his uncle’s percolator. Dr. Max Miller, marine biologist and champion of all things logical and quantifiable, suddenly found himself falling under the mythical spell of a pretend mermaid.
Or perhaps he’d been falling all along.
Molly’s gaze, luminous and lovely, flickered toward his.
“Good morning,” he said stiffly.
“Good morning,” she said in return.
And then she gave him the same bright smile that she bestowed on her adoring public, but it seemed just a little too fixed. Too superficial. Toopracticed.
So Max headed to his office, where things were black and white and far easier to understand. It wasn’t until he got there that he realized he still had the unwelcome puppy tucked into the crook of his elbow.
***
The dog remained glued to Max’s side throughout the day, either curled into a sleepy ball in one of the chairs opposite his desk or trotting at his heels as he moved about the aquarium. For the most part she was easy to ignore, despite the lobster costume and the snuffly noises she made while she was sleeping. The snoring was actually a little cute, although if pressed, Max wouldn’t have volunteered that particular nugget of information.
Mostly, he went about his business while Ursula dozed across the desk from him or regarded him with very direct, very intense eye contact. The only waking moment when Max didn’t seem to be her preferred object of attention occurred when he ventured to the turtle hospital area. Ursula trotted alongside him as if she had every reason to be there. Once inside the warehouse, she moved from one big tub to the next, nose twitching as she sniffed the air. Max could have sworn he saw Crush, the recently rescued green turtle, bang one of her flippers against the side of her tub in acknowledgment of the little dog’s presence down below.
But that was impossible…
Okay, perhaps it wasn’t impossible so much as highly unlikely. Sea turtles did possess a keen sense of smell, both in and out of the water. It was partly how female turtles navigated their way onto dry land to bury their eggs. But sea turtles in captivity mostly responded to smells that they associated with prey, such as squid, jellies, and shrimp. Besides, Crush was a green turtle and ate mostly plants—not Cavalier King Charles spaniel puppies.
It was funny, though. Ursula did seem oddly fascinated by the turtles, especially considering that she couldn’t see them. Max would have thought she’d prefer to watch the shark tank or any of the other more visually stimulating displays than sniff the fishy, turtle-scented air in the hospital. But what did he know about dogs?
Not much. That was veterinary medicine, not marine biology, fuzzy felt lobster claws and googly-eyed antennae notwithstanding.
On the way back to his office, Max passed the conference room and his steps slowed at the sight of a collection of aluminum walkers once again piled up near its entrance. The Turtle Team must have been reassembled.
But that wasn’t right. They weren’t scheduled to meet again until the end of the month. The date and time were circled on Max’s desk calendar…in Sharpie. As far as he was concerned, the Charlie’s Angels needed as much supervision as Ursula did. Maybe even more.
Max peered through a crack in the vertical blinds of the conference room’s wide window, and just as he suspected, he spied a group of senior citizens wearing tie-dyed Turtle Team T-shirts. Molly sat at the head of the table, dressed in her mermaid finery. Pink boxes of familiar-looking cupcakes covered the entire surface of the polished walnut conference table.
Max squinted. Oh yes, indeed, they were the same cupcakes from bingo last week. Mermaid Marshmallow Cream and Sidekick Snickerdoodle. Max’s stomach grumbled, to his immense annoyance.
He glanced down at Ursula. “Did you know about this?”
She wagged her tail.
Max rolled his eyes at himself. He was talking to a dog. A dog that had clearly betrayed him, but adognonetheless.
His head told him to walk away. Molly was the leader of the Turtle Team and she knew what she was doing. But Max couldn’t help himself. He needed to know what they were up to before he ended up half-naked on a billboard somewhere.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” he said as he swung the door open and walked inside.
“Hello, Max. So nice of you and Ursula to join us.” Opal Lewinsky’s mouth twisted into a smirk.
Ethel and Mavis snickered like two schoolgirls.
That’s right. Laugh it up.The puppy was trotting around like she owned the place, just as they’d predicted. At least someone found it amusing.
Max cleared his throat. “I would have been here earlier, had I known about the meeting.”
Molly blinked up at him. She had a cupcake in her hand and a tiny dab of frosting on her upper lip. Max had an immediate, inappropriate urge to bend down and kiss it away. “Max, hi. I didn’t realize you’d want to attend. Henry usually wasn’t interested in our meetings.”
“Well, I am.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. The happy chatter around the table came to an abrupt halt.
“That’s great.” Molly sat up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders. “So, so great.”
