“No.”
“What surprise?”
“Mort and Chance are teaming up. We’ve been hard at work coordinating their costumes,” Birdie said.
“I think it’s a great match,” David said. “Mort loves Chance.”
“I noticed,” Harlow said. “Every time Marty comes by to give us a ride, Mort is right there, waiting.”
“I never thought my horse and your dog would be friends, but then Mort and Chance are special.”
“And I can’t wait for them to take the parade’s top prize,” Birdie said. “What time will you be by to pick us up?”
Marty and Aunt Birdie discussed the logistics and timing, both agreeing they needed to be in town by eleven and ready to line up for the parade starting at noon. They reached the inn and found Mort standing on the other side of the fence.
Marty, ever the gentleman, hopped down, intent on giving the ladies a hand.
Harlow, in a hurry, scooched off the seat and lowered onto the ground. Her feet slipped.
“Whoa!” She frantically waved her arms in the air, desperately trying to regain her balance. It was too late. Her Christian Louboutin designer boots went out from under her. With arms flailing, she hit the ground, landing on her butt.
“Are you okay?”
With Marty on one side and Harlow’s father on the other, they helped her to her feet. “I would like to suggest you purchase more practical footwear,” David teased.
“But I love these boots,” she grunted.
“Save them for the Hollywood scene,” Birdie said. “I’m with your father on this one. You need more practical footwear.”
“Duly noted. Trust me, it won’t happen again.” Harlow rubbed her backside and took her father’s arm, gingerly making her way toward the sidewalk.
As soon as David opened the gate, the pup ran to the horse and stopped directly in front of him.
Chance pranced, whinnying and shaking his mane.
Mort barked loudly, performing his happy little side hop, the one that always made Harlow laugh.
“I wish I knew what they were saying,” Marty said.
She gave the horse a loving pat. “We can’t wait to see you tomorrow, Chance. And I can’t wait to see what sort of costume Aunt Birdie has come up with.”
“It’s awesome,” Marty said. “She could start her own business designing custom costumes.”
“Ah.” Aunt Birdie’s cheeks turned a tinge of pink. “It was a labor of love. Mark my words…Mort and Chance are gonna knock it out of the park.”
“See you at eleven.” Marty clicked the reins, and off they went, with Chance trotting at a steady gait down the street and out of sight.
Mort stood watching them until they were gone before turning toward the house. The others trailed behind and caught up with the pup on the front porch.
Checking her phone for the umpteenth time, Harlow discovered Allie had finally sent over the contract.
“I have the purchase agreement.” She went over it line by line, confirming it was a standard purchase agreement. Harlow paid special attention to the added items—no funding requirements, closing fast, and her request for an inspection.
She promptly digitally signed and forwarded it. Allie replied, promising she would try sending it to the seller that very evening.
Despite the early hour, it had been a long day. Tomorrow was shaping up to be equally busy, although in a good way.
She couldn’t wait to see Mort’s and Chance’s costumes. Birdie’s creative flair and imagination guaranteed the duo would most certainly have a shot at winning the pet parade prize.
