“So, have you washed your arm yet?”
“No way. Permanent marker, too. I’m gonna take some pics, tweet about it. All the poetry nerds will swoon. What’s the story on Monty’s place? Will we be able to finish up this weekend?”
“I think so. I’ll let you know for sure as soon as I hear.”
“Anything on the woman in the shed?”
“Nothing definite. It might well have been an overdose. It’s possible it was Linda Lawrence; I guess she’s Hubert’s sister?”
“And his savior. In one of his most famous poems, he talks about the older sister who helped him escape out a window. He writes about her, describes her as lost.”
“Lost? As in missing?”
“I think it was more lost, as in to drugs and alcohol. I can’t remember exactly.”
“They escaped that night, and now she’s found dead in a shed on the property . . . ? This is rapidly developing into one of the saddest stories I’ve ever heard.”
“Perfect fodder for poetry. Or, you know, suicide.”
We both mulled that one over for a moment. It never ceased to amaze me how some people seemed to have more than their fair share of tragedy, while others of us were, by and large, so lucky. My life held a lot of annoyances and some sadness, but no tragedy on this level. Another reminder to count my blessings.
“Oh, hey,” I said in a bid to change the subject. “Guess who’s back in town? Cookie.”
“You mean back for a visit, or back back?” Over the years, Luz had heard a great deal about my sister and our relationship.
“I’m not sure. We haven’t exactly talked.”
“How long did you last this time?”
“Ten minutes, easy. So I’m improving.”
“What was the trigger?”
“She started giving me advice.”
“I’ll give you some free advice: Keep her away from Graham. When does he get back?”
“Day after tomorrow. But what do you mean, keep him away from Cookie?”
“If she’s left Kyle again, she’ll be looking to compensate. You think your handsome hunk of man will be off-limits?”
“Cookie wouldn’t go for Graham.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty sure Graham wouldn’t go for my sister.”
“Oh, of course not. Men don’t go for flirtatious, stacked, leggy blondes who tell them what they want to hear. I forgot. They would never fall for such an oh-so-obvious act.”
Okay, so after an especially unpleasant breakup, Luz had become a little bitter on the subject of men. I wasn’t in any position to throw stones, since I’d been a card-carrying member of the Bitter Club since things went south between me and my former husband. But . . . Graham would never go for someone like Cookie, would he? I mean . . . he had free will and self-control, didn’t he? And if a man liked me, surely Cookie wouldn’t exactly be his type. Would she?
On the other hand, there was that whole “flirtatious, stacked, leggy blonde” thing. Over the years, I had witnessed man after man—otherwise intelligent, caring men—whose jaws would go slack and eyes go soft as Cookie turned on the charm.
I was toast.
I blew out an exasperated breath as a wave of self-consciousness came over me. I was wearing my typical odd ensemble, my hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, and I didn’t have on a hint of makeup. Not even my usual lazy effort at a little eyeliner and mascara. I had intended to go upstairs to primp a bit before leaving the house, but instead ran out into the still, dark morning.
Anyway, it didn’t matter. Graham and I had been dating, and it had been great . . . until I started freaking out. I liked kissing him a lot. But he wanted to be with me, as in be with me. I had lots to do, and I wasn’t in the habit of checking in with anybody. I already had my dad to deal with, and Caleb was around all the time, and the business, and Dog . . . I decided I had no room in my life for a steady boyfriend.
“Maybe he and Cookie would be good for each other,” I heard myself saying. “He likes kids, and she comes with a ready-made family.”
“Are you still trying to set him up with all the women you know?” she asked. “You know, far be it from me to tell you how to interact with men, but I don’t think you’re supposed to be foisting your boyfriend off on other women.”
“I’m not foisting. I rarely foist.”
“You tried to get him to go to the movies with me the other night, remember?”
“You two share a fondness for the current James Bond that I simply can’t get behind. It’s Sean Connery or nothing, as far as I’m concerned. And anyway, he’s not my boyfriend.”