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“Now, Addie,” Mom said. “Give this a chance.”
“Um, I don’t know anything about a dog, Sally.”
Sally nodded, wandering through the doorway and into the hallway, turning into the dining room.
I hadn’t been in the room since the previous night, when Michael and I had gone at it on the gorgeous dining room table, but looking at it now in the light of day with my mother and the pet psychic both gazing thoughtfully at the place I’d lain and orgasmed as Michael had thrust above me...well, it made me blush. And then I started coughing and choking when I noticed my underwear hanging off the back of one of the chairs.
Luckily, when I’d recovered, Mom and Sally had moved us into the parlor and then asked if we might go upstairs. I’d snagged the evidence and shoved it into my pocket.
“Honestly, that’s where we hear most of it.”
“That’s where the dog was most content,” Sally said, nodding as if she understood everything now.
After touring the entire house to the random accompaniment of Sally’s pronouncements about the dog who’d once lived here, we went back down to the kitchen, where I made both ladies some tea.
“So here’s the problem,” Sally said, when we were all sitting at the island. “The dog never had a chance to properly say goodbye to his owner.”
“Oh.” I had trouble summoning any enthusiasm into my voice.
“And he’s screaming in frustration.”
“Oh.”
“So you need to pose as the owner and allow the doggy to say his goodbyes.”
“I don’t really see how that would be possible,” I told her. “I don’t know who the owner was.”
“Oh, he said Elias was his name.”
I had no response to that. Elias was actually the name of one of the men who’d lived here. Lucille’s father. Maybe this lady wasn’t nuts.
“So, like, how would we do this?” I asked, suddenly a little more willing to believe the pet psychic might know what she was doing.
“There’s a man here, correct? Your mother said you were living with some terrible man.”
I glared at Mom, who shrugged. “Yes, Michael.”
“Good. You spend an entire day calling him Elias, and ask him about his dog as much as you can. He should speak fondly of the dog and allow as many opportunities for the dog’s spirit to come forward as possible.”
“By doing what, exactly?”
“Play with a ball, throw a stick, that sort of thing. Maybe bring out some dog food.”
“Ah, okay,” I said, still a little overwhelmed by the idea that a German Shepherd was actually haunting us. What use did the dog have for my bracelet? “Thanks,” I told Sally.
“Just let me know if it helps, dear. Maybe leave a review?”
“Sure,” I said, imagining myself writing a Yelp review about this engagement. “So do I owe you something?”
“No, honey. This was a favor to your darling mother.”
Mom beamed.
“Okay, well, thank you.”
After a little more small talk and another cup of tea, my mother and Sally departed, leaving me to garden for the afternoon with the spirit of an unhappy German Shepherd at my side.
* * *
