“Well now, everyone starts out as a stranger, Lani, but then they become friends. If my little granddaughter invited you, then I’d say she knew what she was about.”
“I don’t think so. I have to go. Bye.”
“Nice to meet you, and I’ll see you around.”
She raised a hand and hurried down the nearest aisle. No way did she want to talk to anyone else today; she’d spoken more words in a few hours than she normally did in a week.
These people were way too friendly.
Grabbing the things she needed, Lani avoided contact with anyone else and was soon at the checkout. Maybe she didn’t need all the things in her basket, but the homemade peanut fudge had looked good, and the rose-scented candle would smell nice in her Bronco.
“You got a dog?” The young girl at the counter asked her.
“Ah, sure,” Lani said, wondering what had possessed her to put those homemade dog biscuits into her basket. Money was always tight, and that dog was probably gone now.
“You don’t know if you have a dog? You’re not one of those people who eat dog biscuits, are you?” The girl shuddered, then flicked her long brown braid over her shoulder, narrowly missing the small set of glass figurines on the shelf behind her.
“There are people who do?”
She rested her elbows on the counter, and Lani again recognized the sign of someone settling in for a conversation. “I think so, but we have cookies that cost less than these you could get.”
“These are for a dog, not me.”
“Which dog?”
“A dog.”
“Okay, so I got it now. You’re one of those people who don’t own dogs, but have dog biscuits so that if they turn up you can feed them?”
Clearly the girl wanted to believe that story, so Lani nodded.
“That’s all right then, because these are for animal consumption, it says so right there on the packet.”
“I’m not going to eat them, I promise.”
“Look.” The girl looked left and right, and Lani found herself doing the same. “I shouldn’t be saying this, but you can get the plain dog biscuits at the grocery store, instead of these homemade ones, for a way better price. Especially as they’re not for your dog.”
She still looked suspicious of Lani’s motives.
“No, I’ll take these, thanks.”
The girl shrugged and then proceeded to talk as she rang up and bagged the rest of Lani’s things, extracting information with a smile. By the time she walked out with her supplies, the girl knew her name, that Lani was working for Mrs. C, which she probably already knew since Patrick McBride did, and that winter was her favorite season.
“This place is weird.”
Getting into her Bronco, she drove slowly around the lake and then turned onto the narrow track where she’d park for the night. The dog was still there when she reached the end, standing where she’d left him, his tail wagging as if he was welcoming her home like he did every day after work.
“Hey, you.” He trotted forward as she got out of the driver seat. She gave him a pat. “So are you a stray like me, or just really good at getting food out of people?”
She’d never had a dog. Her home had been a happy one, but her mother had been allergic to pet hair, which secretly Lani had thought an excuse. What her mom had really hated was mess, and a dog would bring that.
“Okay, let’s eat then.”
Taking the groceries into the back, she sat, turned on her little burner, and heated water for coffee. Once that was done, she found a bowl and poured some of the dog biscuits into it, and topped up the water bowl. She then unwrapped the chicken and mayo roll she’d purchased and ate her food in the back while the dog crunched on his below.
“I’m only eating one piece of fudge,” she told him, opening the cellophane bag. “Okay, maybe two.”
After she’d washed her dish and the dog’s, Lani found a tree to hang her shower in and washed in the cold water. It was bracing, she reminded herself, and something she should be used to by now. She wasn’t and likely never would be. The thought of the shower above Cribbins Cakery had her longing to feel the hot water that she’d find there.
