“If she brings back a candle, I’m calling an exorcist,” Basia said.
A minute later, Ginger returned with a plastic apple from the decorative fruit bowl. She dropped it neatly beside the lipstick.
“Lipstick and fruit,” Gwen said. “Okay, what the heck does that mean?”
“She’s making a stash to take with her to the shelter?” I suggested.
Ginger gave an audible huff as we stared at her.
“I think she’s trying to tell us something,” Basia said.
“With a tube of lipstick and a plastic apple?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Basia said and started petting Ginger. “What are you trying to tell us, you adorable, sweet doggie?” she asked in a weird singsong voice.
Gray tilted her head, studying the dog. “Lipstick and an apple…what do they have in common?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Unless she’s hungry and doesn’t know lipstick isn’t for eating. Maybe the lipstick smells good and she wants to eat it.”
Gray snorted. “She had plenty of pizza. I don’t think she’s hungry.”
“Maybe she is trying to tell us something,” I murmured. Something felt off.
Ginger, apparently, wasn’t done yet. She trotted off again, nosing through the corner by the armchair, and came back dragging a folded throw blanket. She dropped it squarely in front of me and sat. A tube of lipstick. A plastic apple. A blanket. Then she looked up expectantly, tail wagging once, as if awaiting applause.
“What…the heck?” I asked.
We all stared at Ginger, who had eyes only for me, like she was pleading for me to figure it out.
“Maybe she’s nesting?” Basia offered.
“With an apple and lipstick?” Gwen said. “I get the blanket, but the other stuff doesn’t make sense.”
“She’s a dog,” Gray replied, waving a hand. “It only has to make sense to her.”
Gwen furrowed her brow as she looked at Ginger. “Maybe she’s curating a vibe.”
“A vibe?” I repeated as I studied the strange pile at my feet. Lipstick. Apple. Blanket. It felt almost like a coded message. “She’s a dog. Do dogs vibe?”
“Dogs can vibe,” Gwen insisted.
We spent several more minutes on unproductive speculation and several wild theories before we gave up.
“How about we just agree that she’s eccentric,” Gray declared. “And we love that for her anyway.”
I wasn’t sure about the love part, but eccentric seemed to fit, so I went with it. What else could it be?
Chapter Twelve
Lexi
Ginger didn’t bring us anything else and didn’t even snuggle against me as we watched the rest of the television thriller. She lay on the floor near the couch sadly, facing the television as if she was watching the show, too. It was crazy, but I felt like somehow I’d disappointed her.
I took a sip of my wine. The scene on television showed people in white coats bustling around a lab, glass walls gleaming under sterile light.
That’s when Ginger started growling—low, deep, unmistakable.
We all froze.
