design, we met at the door.
âMrs. Turnbull,â said Flynn, nodding briefly.
It was clear he intended to keep on walking, but Aunt Peg thrust me forward. âHarry, I donât believe youâve met my niece, Melanie. Sheâs new to showing dogs.â
He stopped then and looked me up and down. âNice to meet you. Since youâre new, Iâll offer you a bit of advice. Find another hobby.â
I didnât know what to say to that, so for a moment I said nothing at all. That gave Aunt Peg the opening she needed. âI didnât expect to see you here today, Harry.â
âWhy not? Just because we werenât friends doesnât mean I wouldnât show up for something like this. Hey, for me this is good times. Besides, I wanted to make sure the bitch was really dead.â
Well, that turned a few heads. Including mine. Thank goodness Rick and Angie werenât close enough to hear.
Aunt Peg drew herself up to her full height which was a good several inches higher than the handler. âIf you werenât leaving, Iâd throw you out myself.â
âIâll save you the pleasure, Mrs. Turnbull. Maybe some other time.â He was whistling under his breath as he left.
Five
Sam Driver returned from L.A. late Friday night. I found that out when he called Saturday morning to see what I was up to. Davey was still off with Frank, Aunt Peg had driven to Camden for a show, and I wasnât up to anything. Our relationship was new enough however, that I wouldnât have dreamed of telling him that.
He probably figured it out anyway when he suggested we take the dogs and go hiking in the woods near his house, and I jumped at the chance. Thereâs an art to being coy which, unfortunately, I have yet to master. I told him Iâd meet him at his house in an hour.
Late October in Connecticut is my idea of perfect weather. brisk, but not yet cold. In accordance with the plans, I didnât dress up. Blue jeans, a flannel shirt, and a pair of sturdy running shoes completed the outfit. I have hazel eyes and brown hair that hangs straight down to my shoulders and I didnât do much with them either. Before I had Davey, I worried about things like that. Back then, I had time. Now my style is pretty much come as you are.
Sam lives in Redding. In lower Fairfield County we consider this a northern outpost. Compared to the coastal communities, it is sparsely populated and open land abounds. Samâs house is a contemporary made of glass and shingles. Itâs perched on a hillside and surrounded by woods. My ancient Volvo handled the country roads fine, but balked at the steep, unpaved driveway. By the time Iâd coaxed it to the top, Sam had heard us coming and was outside waiting.
When I opened the door, Faith leapt out of the car first. That was partly because sheâs younger and faster than me and partly because I took a moment to compose myself. Sam and I have known each other a few months but I still feel a nerve-tingling rush every time I see him. If I were a dog, Iâd probably be sitting up and begging. Of course thatâs enough to make me want to slow things down right there. Sam doesnât feel like a fling to me. In some ways, Iâd be a whole lot more comfortable if he did. For Daveyâs sake, Iâm trying to keep my mistakes with men to a minimum. And for the time being, Sam isnât pushing. So far, so good.
By the time I got myself out of the car, Faith had already jumped all over Sam and was chasing one of his Standard Poodles around the yard. Though he has half a dozen, only one Poodle was outside. Charm is the matriarch of the line and Samâs undisguised favorite. She was black in her youth, but now most of her coat has gone gray. She still had enough energy however, to give my puppy a good trouncing whenever she ventured near. I left them to their play and turned my attention to Sam.
He looked good. Sam always looks good.
Learning to Kill: Stories