The Secret Wedding Dress. Roz Denny Fox
was ready to investigate.
“Sylvie, you’re a lifesaver. Elsa had what her doctor thinks is a ministroke. Ted says we’ll probably need to locate a nursing home, or at least some type of residential facility. Elsa’s insisted on staying in her own home and she’s always balked when we suggested she move in with us.” Anita heard the bumping going on next door, and paused. “Has someone moved into Iva’s house?”
“In the process of moving. See the van?” Sylvie squinted through the vines twined thickly in their joint fence. “You mean you haven’t heard any scuttlebutt at work?” Anita was the loan manager for Briarwood’s only bank.
“We wouldn’t necessarily hear if there’s no mortgage loan involved. Iva’s great-nephew probably sold the property. I think he’s employed by a newspaper in Atlanta. Iva used to brag on him. She said that, as a boy, he spent summers with her and Harvey. I can’t remember, but I think he may have been Iva’s only living relative.”
“Wouldn’t we have known if he’d listed the property for sale?” Sylvie ducked to see if she could ascertain what was going on next door.
“I suppose it’s conceivable the nephew just retired.”
“Then he’s not the man I saw carrying stuff in from his car. And there’s a little girl. She can’t be more than six or seven.”
“Huh. Iva talked about her nephew whenever he sent her a card or letter. She said he was super busy, and what a shame that was, since he loved to fish with your grandfather during the summers he spent in Briarwood.”
“I wonder how I missed hearing about him. Mom and I alternated grocery-shopping for Iva when she came down with pneumonia. Why do you suppose the jerk never visited her when she was so ill? Frank at the funeral home arranged to have her body shipped to Georgia for burial. In a family plot, he said. He never mentioned any nephew.”
“If you want facts, I guess you’ll have to ask the man who bought the house. Look, Sylvie, I hate to dump Oscar on you and dash, but I told Ted I’d come straight home so I could help pack for our trip to Tennessee.”
“Right. Sorry to hold you up. Go, and tell Ted we’ll say a prayer for his mother.”
“Please do. Say, I realize I only requested that you bathe and brush Oscar. But since you’ll have him longer, can you give him the works? Check for ear mites and trim his nails? Especially his dewclaws. I heard Ted muttering last week that Oscar’s looking like he’s wearing snowshoes again.”
“I’ll be happy to make him all boo-tiful. Yes, I’m talking about you, sweet thang,” Sylvie purred in an exaggerate drawl. She leaned down to kiss the dog’s shiny black nose. In return, she received a doggie kiss from his rough tongue. “Unlike most of the other dogs I deal with, Oscar loves a bath. When you drop him off, Anita, he knows he’ll get to play in my big tub of bubbles.”
“You might want to toss him in soon,” Anita said with a grin. “I’m well aware that you spoil him rotten and let him sleep beside your bed whenever we board him.” She shook her head. “It’s been such a warm summer, he keeps in rolling in my flowerbeds to keep cool. And yesterday he came in smelling faintly of skunk.”
“Ugh. I’ll wash him right away. I need a break from Kay’s gown. She chose crepe-backed satin, and my fingers are objecting to so much hand-sewing.”
Anita paused in the act of climbing into her vehicle. “Darn, we’ll probably miss the wedding. Please tell Kay and David we wish them the best. I’ll have Carline send their gift straight from the store.”
“You bought their gift from Carline’s kitchen shop? So did I. Pottery? On the invitation, Kay said no gifts, since she and David are merging two households. But Carline convinced me Kay really would love new everyday dishes.”
“People going into a second marriage need some things all their own. And no one’s likely to buy them a new bed.” Anita grinned wickedly.
“Marriage seems a drastic way to get new furniture or dishes.”
“There are other benefits, Sylvie.”
Sylvie made a wry face. “My mom and sisters tell me that constantly. I wish they’d stop digging up so many blind dates for me. Two last week.” She rolled her eyes. “The guy on Friday was a few feathers short of a duck.” Removing one hand from Oscar’s leash, she made gagging motions using her index finger.
“I feel for you, Sylvie,” Anita said with mock solemnity. “Your family is a force to be reckoned with.”
“Yeah,” she muttered glumly. “They’ve begun to recycle men I thought I’d gotten rid of. Listen, this subject needs a whole evening and two bottles of wine. You and Ted drive carefully, Anita. Oscar and I will be just fine.”
“Hey, what if you got a couple of Rottweilers? Those blind dates would get the point faster.” Not waiting for response, Anita slid into her car and sped off.
Sylvie gazed down at the big, happy-go-lucky dog. “Maybe I could teach you to go for the jugular,” she said, dragging him into the backyard so she could turn him loose while she prepared his bath. She used a galvanized feed barrel as a tub for bathing large dogs. Sylvie liked warm water, and hurried in to connect the hose to laundry tubs her grandmother had installed on the back porch.
While she went around the house to retrieve soap and brushes from the motor home that served as her Mutt Mobile, she heard Oscar start barking wildly. Rushing back with her supplies, she expected to find that he’d flushed out a squirrel or a rabbit, both of which her frequent boarder considered great sport. So far, the score remained squirrels and rabbits about fifty, Oscar zero. But this time, Sylvie was startled to learn that Oscar had treed a very frightened, very large gold cat. It perched on a limb that hung over Sylvie’s side of the fence.
“Nice kitty.” She dropped her supplies and grabbed Oscar’s collar. He launched himself at the branch, causing the cat to hiss and spit. The dog’s lunge yanked Sylvie right out of her slide sandals and sent her sprawling on her backside.
“Darn you, Oscar.” Scrambling to her hands and knees, this time latching on to the leather collar with both hands, she said, “Leave that cat alone! She has to belong to my new neighbor. This is no way to make a first impression, Oscar.” The words no sooner left Sylvie’s lips than a child started shrieking.
“Daddy, Daddy, I accidentally let Fluffy out of the house, and…help, Daddy, she’s stuck up the tree.”
Sylvie couldn’t see the child nor, apparently, could the kid see that Sylvie was trying to rectify the situation. Excited by the cat, and the strange voice calling from the next yard, Oscar thought this was fantastic fun. So much so, he tore loose from Sylvie’s grasp and bounded against the fence. Hard enough to threaten its stability.
Deciding she needed leverage to pry Oscar away from his quarry, Sylvie ran to the porch for his leash. It was then that she realized she’d left both hoses running. The dog’s bath had begun to overflow, washing gallons of warm water over the tub edge and down the hill. Sylvie took only long enough to wrench off the faucets, as the din by the tree had grown markedly. Frenzied now, the barking dog drowned out the hissing cat and the girl’s strident cries for help.
Sylvie managed to connect the leash to his collar as an upstairs window next door flew open wide. “What’s going on down there?” a masculine voice bellowed.
“A little cat-dog mixup is all,” Sylvie called breathlessly, doing her best to wrest Oscar aside. Since she was facing the sun, the man framed in the window was no more than a shape. Unfortunately, the muddy trail of water from the tub had made its way to where Sylvie dug in her bare heels. She lost purchase on the slick, wet grass and went down again, this time in a wet, muddy heap.
It didn’t help to have the man yell at her in a tone implying she must be the dumbest, most inept person who’d ever had the temerity to occupy a home next to his. “Lady, you shouldn’t own a beast you can’t control. I’m trying to log