Roz Fox - Sweet Tibby Mack

“Git. What are you doing? I’m not your mama. Tibby is.”

Tibby noticed the weathered fingers tugging gently at the dog’s silky ears. And she also noticed the doggie smile on Peek-a-boo’s face. “I wanted a bigger dog, Millie. I chose a Great Dane. But I couldn’t bear to walk away and leave this one to her fate.” Tibby sighed. “I’m afraid I promised to find her a home.”

“Oh, well…may be Winnie and Joe.”

“No. They’re always flitting hither and yon. Peek-a-boo lived with a retired lady. She’s content to sit and rock.”

“Mabel, then.” The woman scratched the dog under the chin.

“She’s off baby-sitting her grandchildren too often to take really good care of a dog, don’t you think?”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose she is. I’d take her myself, but—”

“Would you? Mildred, you’re a lifesaver. Or I should say, a dog-saver.” Tibby suppressed a grin. “She comes with food and a dish. She’s been spayed and has all her shots.” Tibby grabbed the things from where she’d stashed them and piled them on the porch. “Well, I’d better run. Justine’s watching the store, and I’ve been gone longer than I’d planned. The dog’s name is Peek-a-boo, remember.”

Tibby all but ran from the yard. She didn’t want to give Mildred time to reconsider. As it turned out, she probably needn’t have rushed. Looking back as she pulled away from the curb, she saw Millie talking nonstop and the Pekingese’s tail waving like a flag in a stiff breeze.

“Yes!” Tibby punched the air with a fist. “It’s a match made in heaven, Exterminator,” she murmured smugly; rubbing her pet’s huge square nose.

Her good humor evaporated a bit as she passed the O’Donnell place. Cole stood with two men—strangers—on a hill of blooming sage. All three checked clipboards they held, then gestured wildly. Tibby wondered what the trio was up to. If she wasn’t so late, she’d stop and deliver Harcourt’s letter. It was well after four; surely he couldn’t start tearing up the landscape tonight.

Parking in her normal spot, Tibby hopped out and hurried into the store. Exterminator padded at her heels.

Justine’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Tibby, don’t look now, but there’s a small horse following you.”

Tibby laughed. “Meet Exterminator. He’s one reason I went to town.” She spread a car robe behind the counter, then filled a bowl with water for the thirsty dog.

“Exterminator?” Grabbing her purse, Justine ducked out the other side. But the dog was too busy lapping up water to pay her any heed. When he lifted his head, water dribbling from his muzzle, he did look ferocious.

Tibby started to explain that he was really a pussycat. Suddenly she changed her mind. After all, what good was a guard dog if everyone knew he was a phony?

“Thanks, Justine. Drop by tomorrow. I’ll cut and color your hair for free. I know your time is worth more, but it’s something I can do in exchange for your watching the store, since you won’t let me pay you.”

“I like doing it. This gives me a break from painting and lets my creative juices flow again. ’Sides, I’ll never turn down a free haircut.” They both laughed as the door opened.

Through it burst a man carrying a huge bouquet of roses. “Tibby Mack?” he inquired, helpless to see around the greenery.

Tibby cast a stunned glance at Justine, who avoided her eyes.

“Don’t look at me,” Justine mumbled. “Check to see who sent them.”

Tibby continued to stare at the flowers. “There must be some mistake,” she said weakly.

“No mistake.” The man plunked the vase on the counter. “Sign here, please. It’s a long drive out from Brawley.”

Hands shaking, Tibby scribbled her name on the line he’d indicated. “But I don’t know anyone anywhere who’d send me flowers,” she insisted.

“Whoever sent ’em paid a mint for delivery,” said the driver as he tucked the pencil behind his ear and headed for the door. “We soak ’em for mileage.”

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Justine admonished when he’d gone. “Honestly, Tibby, I’d have that envelope shredded by now.”

Tibby touched one of the dark red buds. Then she leaned over and sniffed. “They’re gorgeous. No one’s ever sent me flowers, Justine. I can’t believe they’re for me. Let me appreciate them a minute, in case it’s all a horrible mistake.”

“Tibby, you’re too much. Florists aren’t in the business of making mistakes.”

“I suppose.” Almost reluctantly Tibby plucked the white envelope from its forked stake. Even then, she turned it over several times and patted her dog’s head before she finally slipped a fingernail under the flap and pried it open, never noticing that Justine had apparently lost interest.

Tibby frowned after reading the message. “They’re from Cole.” She tossed the card on the counter. “He says, ‘Sorry for everything. Forgive me, Cole.’ Ha! More than likely he had to run into Brawley for some piddling spice he forgot and realized how inconvenient it is.”

“Now, dear, he probably feels guilty about shouting at you earlier. Men have a tendency to speak first and think later. Why not enjoy the roses and let bygones be?”

“They are lovely, aren’t they?” Tibby’s features softened.

Smiling, Justine angled toward the door. Before she reached it, the bell over the top tinkled again. A pretty woman, pale-skinned with shoulder-length blond hair, poked her head tentatively into the store. “Excuse me,” she murmured in a smoky voice, “I’m hunting for Cole O’Donnell’s country home. I must have taken a wrong turn. Could someone direct me?”

Tibby and Justine exchanged glances, Justine’s one of surprise, Tibby merely rolling her eyes as if to say, Country home, oh, brother!

“You can see his house through that window.” Tibby pointed. She shushed Exterminator when he loped to the end of the counter and barked. “Driving there is trickier. If you’d like, I’ll show you on an area map.”

“Would you? And do you have any cold mineral water? It’s so hot out.”

“Hot? It’s barely eighty-seven. But yes, I have mineral water, juice and iced herb tea.” Tibby directed the newcomer toward the cooler.

The woman pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and stepped fully into view. “Thank goodness you seem civilized. I was afraid to stop in any of the dingy little towns I passed through.” She shrugged a delicate shoulder while inspecting the case.

Tibby took the opportunity to study the woman. She had wide violet eyes enhanced by liner and mauve eye shadow, and she wore a filmy little purple top and a fluttery short skirt that would have stopped a train on a dime. Good thing she’d driven straight through. Those poor farmworkers would’ve died of shock.

Silver hoop earrings and matching bracelets jingled when she reached into the case. If it’d been a man checking out those long bare legs, Tibby thought peevishly, he’d probably have swallowed his teeth.

“You known Cole long?” Tibby asked as she dug through a cluttered drawer in search of the map. She hated the hint of jealousy in her tone.

“A couple of years. I’m Cicely Brock, by the way. If you get an L.A. paper and read the entertainment section, you may have seen me. I’m in a new TV series.”

“Winnie gets the LA. Times,” Justine said. “I’ll mention it to her on my way home. How long will you be in Yaqui Springs, Ms., uh, Brock? In case Winnie would like your autograph.”

Cicely broke into a smile. “I’m only going to be at Cole’s till tomorrow afternoon. But I’d be happy to sign something. I don’t expect to be back. He’s usually on the continent working for classy resorts. I can’t imagine why he’s designing something out here in the boonies.” The woman took a dainty sip of her mineral water, then fanned herself, which set her bracelets dancing. “Are you sure it’s not closer to a hundred degrees? I can’t afford to get sunburned. My agent would have fits.” She gazed at Tibby as if seeing her sun-streaked hair and evenly tanned skin for the first time. “My goodness, don’t you worry you’ll wrinkleT’