that looked like a den or study. Bookshelves lined the walls on either side of a large television. Mrs. Fairmont turned and faced me.
"I keep Flip with me all the time," she said in a soft voice. "He even sleeps on my bed, although Christine doesn't know it. We'll take him downstairs, but it would be cruel to leave him there all the time. Does your family have a dog? Living on a farm like that, I'd expect you to have a dog."
"Yes ma'am. We have two dogs; one is named Flip."
"Really! What breed?"
"Mixed. Our Flip probably weighs about fifty pounds."
"My baby weighs six pounds, four ounces."
We went down to the basement. Light streamed in from the windows I'd seen from the front of the house. Mrs. Fairmont's home was three stories in the rear and opened onto a courtyard/garden. Windows lined the wall and let in light and the view. A wall ran down the center of the room. To the left was an open space used for storage. Mrs. Fairmont opened a door to the right, and we entered a suite with a kitchenette. A dog bed surrounded by chew toys lay in the middle of the floor. There wasn't any other furniture.
"Was this was one of the rooms for rent?"
"Yes. It's really a little apartment. No one has lived here since I bought the house. It's what they call a garden apartment."
"May I take a look?"
"Sure."
Still carrying Flip, I stepped across the living area into a bedroom with French double doors that opened onto a brick patio with a wrought-iron table. There was an old brass bed that looked like it hadn't been used in years.
"It has a nice view of the garden, but it sure doesn't look like a palace," I said without thinking.
"Christine is prone to exaggeration, as I'm sure you've noticed if you've been around her more than five minutes." Mrs. Fairmont sniffed. "She claims this house is worth three times what I paid for it."
I recalled Mrs. Bartlett's statement as "four times" but kept my mouth shut.
Mrs. Fairmont took Flip from my arms. The little dog licked her chin.
"Nice kisses," she said. "Now show us how you got your name."
She put the dog on the floor and made a circle with her right index finger. The Chihuahua stepped forward and did a backward somersault. It happened so fast that I didn't get a good look.
"Will he do it again?" I asked.
Mrs. Fairmont swirled her finger and Flip obliged. She leaned over and patted him on the head.
"I've never seen a dog do that," I said.
"He's a smart boy."
"What else can he do?"
"Love me," Mrs. Fairmont said, looking at me with her blue eyes. "When no one else does."
She gave Flip a treat and closed the door to the room. I listened for a moment but didn't hear any scratching or whining. We returned upstairs. The coffee on my dress now felt clammy against my legs. Mrs. Bartlett was in the hallway near the kitchen. She had a cordless phone in her hand.
"I can't get Gracie," she said, clicking off the phone.
"I said that I'd be glad to finish cleaning up," I said, trying not to sound disrespectful. "All I'll need are paper towels, a broom, and a dustpan."
"Gracie moved all the cleaning supplies to the closet near the porch," Mrs. Fairmont said.
I followed Mrs. Bartlett through a small formal dining room. Before reaching the porch, we came to a space designed as a coat closet. I grabbed what I needed, returned to the parlor, and began cleaning up the mess. Mrs. Fairmont sat down and rested her head against the back of the chair.
"All this commotion has taken away all my energy," she said. "I need to lie down for a few minutes."
"Not yet. We're not finished with our visit," Mrs. Bartlett replied. She pointed across the room. "Tami, I see a splatter of coffee all the way over there."
I went to the kitchen, moistened some of the paper towels, and while the two women watched, cleaned the floor, pushing the bits of glass into a single pile.
"You missed some glass beneath Mother's chair," Mrs. Bartlett said.
I turned on my knees so that my rear end was facing Mrs. Bartlett
"I keep Flip with me all the time," she said in a soft voice. "He even sleeps on my bed, although Christine doesn't know it. We'll take him downstairs, but it would be cruel to leave him there all the time. Does your family have a dog? Living on a farm like that, I'd expect you to have a dog."
"Yes ma'am. We have two dogs; one is named Flip."
"Really! What breed?"
"Mixed. Our Flip probably weighs about fifty pounds."
"My baby weighs six pounds, four ounces."
We went down to the basement. Light streamed in from the windows I'd seen from the front of the house. Mrs. Fairmont's home was three stories in the rear and opened onto a courtyard/garden. Windows lined the wall and let in light and the view. A wall ran down the center of the room. To the left was an open space used for storage. Mrs. Fairmont opened a door to the right, and we entered a suite with a kitchenette. A dog bed surrounded by chew toys lay in the middle of the floor. There wasn't any other furniture.
"Was this was one of the rooms for rent?"
"Yes. It's really a little apartment. No one has lived here since I bought the house. It's what they call a garden apartment."
"May I take a look?"
"Sure."
Still carrying Flip, I stepped across the living area into a bedroom with French double doors that opened onto a brick patio with a wrought-iron table. There was an old brass bed that looked like it hadn't been used in years.
"It has a nice view of the garden, but it sure doesn't look like a palace," I said without thinking.
"Christine is prone to exaggeration, as I'm sure you've noticed if you've been around her more than five minutes." Mrs. Fairmont sniffed. "She claims this house is worth three times what I paid for it."
I recalled Mrs. Bartlett's statement as "four times" but kept my mouth shut.
Mrs. Fairmont took Flip from my arms. The little dog licked her chin.
"Nice kisses," she said. "Now show us how you got your name."
She put the dog on the floor and made a circle with her right index finger. The Chihuahua stepped forward and did a backward somersault. It happened so fast that I didn't get a good look.
"Will he do it again?" I asked.
Mrs. Fairmont swirled her finger and Flip obliged. She leaned over and patted him on the head.
"I've never seen a dog do that," I said.
"He's a smart boy."
"What else can he do?"
"Love me," Mrs. Fairmont said, looking at me with her blue eyes. "When no one else does."
She gave Flip a treat and closed the door to the room. I listened for a moment but didn't hear any scratching or whining. We returned upstairs. The coffee on my dress now felt clammy against my legs. Mrs. Bartlett was in the hallway near the kitchen. She had a cordless phone in her hand.
"I can't get Gracie," she said, clicking off the phone.
"I said that I'd be glad to finish cleaning up," I said, trying not to sound disrespectful. "All I'll need are paper towels, a broom, and a dustpan."
"Gracie moved all the cleaning supplies to the closet near the porch," Mrs. Fairmont said.
I followed Mrs. Bartlett through a small formal dining room. Before reaching the porch, we came to a space designed as a coat closet. I grabbed what I needed, returned to the parlor, and began cleaning up the mess. Mrs. Fairmont sat down and rested her head against the back of the chair.
"All this commotion has taken away all my energy," she said. "I need to lie down for a few minutes."
"Not yet. We're not finished with our visit," Mrs. Bartlett replied. She pointed across the room. "Tami, I see a splatter of coffee all the way over there."
I went to the kitchen, moistened some of the paper towels, and while the two women watched, cleaned the floor, pushing the bits of glass into a single pile.
"You missed some glass beneath Mother's chair," Mrs. Bartlett said.
I turned on my knees so that my rear end was facing Mrs. Bartlett
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