“Don’t sidetrack her. We’re not swimming. We’re asking if Greta’s allowed to walk their dog. And how often are you walking the dog for ten dollars a week? Is this dog well behaved? Is it big? How far are you supposed to take it? You’ll have to bring bags for after it does its business. You can’t just leave it in someone’s yard.”
Greta’s eyes widened. “I have to pick up poop?”
“Still want to do it?”
“Everyone else has a job. I should too.”
Elinor’s heart gave a squeeze. Poor Greta was not fooled by Mom’s attempts to shield her from reality. “Let’s talk to the Middletons first.” She stood and walked to the door, waiting on the other two to find shoes.
They fell in step together down the driveway. Greta ran ahead to stomp weeds in the vacant lot next door. Elinor purposely avoided looking at Edward’s house across the street and studied the other houses instead.
“Now that you have a job, are you ready to organize a running group here?” Marianne glanced around as if willing joggers might pop out at any moment.
“I don’t have time for things like that anymore.” Elinor sighed. “I’m already going to be walking to and from work as it is. Ta da, exercise.” The truth was actually a little sharper. She could feel it digging into her self-confidence. They were poor, and unknown. She felt dull and mousy here, like her ability to have fun had gone dormant, replaced by more important priorities.
Marianne nudged her with her elbow. “I thought it was fun, and I didn’t even like running. You turned it into a party with glow sticks and music and socializing. All because you wanted to try running after dark when it was cooler and you needed company. The group continues on without us back home, but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t start a new one here.”
“I’ll think about it. Right now, let’s focus on Greta. She needs new hobbies too, something besides reading Dad’s old joke book a thousand times.”
“She doesn’t want to forget him,” Marianne said softly. “But yeah, this dog walking thing would probably be good for her.” She glanced back to make sure Greta was keeping up with them, since her new distraction was kicking gravel rocks back into people’s yards.
The Middletons’ house up ahead was an older home, like all of the houses in the neighborhood, but with an expensive facelift and the most beautiful yard Elinor had ever seen. The bushes and trees were all trimmed, with varying heights and colors that pleased the eye while still being drought-friendly. She wondered if it bothered them that all the houses around them were shabby.
Marianne gave the door a brisk knock, and immediately a dog barked in excitement. A small, yappy-sounding dog. That answered one question.
A little girl of about five answered and immediately hollered for her mom without asking what they were doing there.
Mrs. Middleton—Sherri, if Elinor was remembering correctly, came to the door drying her hands with a kitchen towel and nudged her daughter behind her. “We don’t accept solicitors. I’d put up a sign, but I find them tacky.” She said it with a straight face, and Elinor held back her friendly laugh when she realized the woman wasn’t joking.
Elinor put a hand to the top of Greta’s head. “Greta is a friend of Ian’s from school. They walk home from the bus stop together. She says they have an agreement about walking your dog, but I thought we’d check with you first.”
“Oh.” Sherri blinked, glancing off to the side where the dog’s yapping had devolved into occasional security yips of displeasure. “Yes, Ian’s not very good at remembering to take Dumpling for walks. What sort of agreement?”
“Ten dollars a week,” Greta said matter-of-factly.
“Well, if Ian wants to take that out of his weekly allowance, I don’t see why not. I don’t expect it every day. Not for ten dollars. How about Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school?”
“Deal.” Greta wiggled all over in anticipation. “Do you want me to take her now? It’s Friday.”
“Sure. I’ll go get her leash and the little waste bags.” Sherri disappeared for a moment and came back with them and Dumpling, who circled and jumped. The little Boston terrier knew exactly what the leash was for. Sherri showed Greta how to clip the leash to Dumpling and how to put her hand through the waste bag to pick up after the dog before twisting the top into a knot.
Elinor blinked and yawned. Afternoon fatigue was setting in, but she regrouped. “We’re the Dashwood sisters, by the way. We just moved into the beige house on the end with our mother.”
Sherri smiled in a complacent sort of way. “That’s nice. John is usually a one-man neighborhood welcoming committee, but he’s down with a bad cold. Honestly, taking Dumpling for a little bit will be a blessing. She keeps jumping up on the bed to check on him. Off you go, Dumpling.” She handed her off and shut the door in their faces.
“I don’t know what to make of her,” Marianne said, staring at the closed door.
Elinor didn’t have a chance to respond because Dumpling immediately jumped up on Greta’s legs before taking off, yanking the leash clean out of the little girl’s hand.
“Greta! Get her!”
Elinor ran after the silly dog, hoping to grab the leash, but stopped abruptly and screamed when a black luxury sedan slammed on its brakes right in front of the dog. Dumpling leisurely finished crossing the street, not a care in the world, before circling back to sniff the car.
“Dumpling, you little rascal.” The driver got out and lowered to one knee. Dumpling came right to him and licked his face.
Elinor clutched her chest, willing her heart to stop beating so hard. Four seconds into the job and they almost killed the dog. She glanced back at Greta’s shocked face before turning back to the guy by the car.
He smiled, showing off a nice pair of dimples. “I’m Brandon Rice. I don’t believe I know any of you.”
