Magoo this long, but luckily my father planned a last-minute visit. He’s keeping an eye on him.”
“So you and Magoo are hitting it off well?”
“Splendidly,” Marley said. “He’s always so sweet and happy and excited to see me at the end of the day. I just love having him there to cuddle with, and he always warms my toes in bed.”
Will nodded, trying not to picture Marley in bed. Trying not to feel jealous of a dog. “Give him my regards.”
***
Marley hadn’t even finished unlocking the front door when she called for her dog, eager to see a friendly face.
“Magoo! It’s me, boy! C’mere, Magoo.”
From the darkness, Marley heard a familiar snort. “Please tell me someone else named that animal.”
“Dad?” Marley pushed the door open and flipped on a light switch.
Her father tugged off a pair of expensive-looking earphones and smiled. He was sitting in the half-dark living room, the glow of his laptop providing the only illumination in the space. Beside him, Magoo was sprawled on his back with his jowls sagging open. Marley’s dad was stroking the dog’s belly with one hand and typing with the other. At the sight of Marley, Magoo flipped over as gracefully as he could manage and thumped his stubby tail against the sofa cushion.
Marley patted her knees, and Magoo scrambled off the couch, catching himself as he started to tumble. His furry paws flailed, and he skidded to a halt in front of Marley and licked her knee.
Marley bent to scratch his ears, cooing about what a good dog he was. Magoo flopped onto his side and groaned with pleasure as Marley scratched his belly with French- manicured fingernails.
Her dad watched the whole thing from the sofa, a bemused look on his face. “Your mother was the same way with animals. Giving them goofy names, slobbering all over them, making them piss themselves from the sheer joy of being around her.”
“What goofy name did she call you?”
Her dad grinned. “Rumpy-diddle, Schnooky Lumps, or Studly-do-right. I always maintained bladder control, though.”
Marley laughed and stood up. “Need a refill on the bourbon?”
“Just a splash. Care to join me?”
“I don’t really like bourbon.”
“You should learn to. High-end distilled spirits are a great entrée into upscale social circles.”
Marley grimaced en route to the kitchen. She paused long enough to toe off her high heels, which she kicked into the corner by the door. She padded into the living room and grabbed her father’s glass off the coaster on the end table. Magoo trotted behind her, delighted with the prospect of a trip to the kitchen.
“You look nice, by the way,” her dad said.
“Thanks. My first charity event since I started the new job.”
“Things go well?”
“Great. Good turnout, very generous donors.”
Her dad set the earphones on the arm of the sofa and turned back to his computer as Marley reached the kitchen. A bottle of Basil Hayden’s bourbon rested on the counter, and Marley yanked open the freezer and grabbed the requisite number of ice cubes, careful not to make them too big or too small. She hesitated, then grabbed an empty glass for herself.
He’s probably right about bourbon and upscale social circles.
“So Dad,” she called. “How long are you in town?”
“A week at least, but I’ll be traveling to a lot of meetings so I’ll mostly be out of your hair. I want to give you plenty of privacy in case you and Curtis need space to work things out.”
Marley rolled her eyes and picked up both glasses. “Dad. I’m not getting back with Curtis.”
“Never rule out the possibility of reconciliation, Marley.”
Marley bit her tongue, resisting the urge to point out that her father had ruled out the possibility of reconciliation with five previous wives when he’d married his sixth last spring. Marriage was not a subject she cared to discuss with her dad.
“So speaking of your mother, have you heard from her lately?”
Speaking of
“So you and Magoo are hitting it off well?”
“Splendidly,” Marley said. “He’s always so sweet and happy and excited to see me at the end of the day. I just love having him there to cuddle with, and he always warms my toes in bed.”
Will nodded, trying not to picture Marley in bed. Trying not to feel jealous of a dog. “Give him my regards.”
***
Marley hadn’t even finished unlocking the front door when she called for her dog, eager to see a friendly face.
“Magoo! It’s me, boy! C’mere, Magoo.”
From the darkness, Marley heard a familiar snort. “Please tell me someone else named that animal.”
“Dad?” Marley pushed the door open and flipped on a light switch.
Her father tugged off a pair of expensive-looking earphones and smiled. He was sitting in the half-dark living room, the glow of his laptop providing the only illumination in the space. Beside him, Magoo was sprawled on his back with his jowls sagging open. Marley’s dad was stroking the dog’s belly with one hand and typing with the other. At the sight of Marley, Magoo flipped over as gracefully as he could manage and thumped his stubby tail against the sofa cushion.
Marley patted her knees, and Magoo scrambled off the couch, catching himself as he started to tumble. His furry paws flailed, and he skidded to a halt in front of Marley and licked her knee.
Marley bent to scratch his ears, cooing about what a good dog he was. Magoo flopped onto his side and groaned with pleasure as Marley scratched his belly with French- manicured fingernails.
Her dad watched the whole thing from the sofa, a bemused look on his face. “Your mother was the same way with animals. Giving them goofy names, slobbering all over them, making them piss themselves from the sheer joy of being around her.”
“What goofy name did she call you?”
Her dad grinned. “Rumpy-diddle, Schnooky Lumps, or Studly-do-right. I always maintained bladder control, though.”
Marley laughed and stood up. “Need a refill on the bourbon?”
“Just a splash. Care to join me?”
“I don’t really like bourbon.”
“You should learn to. High-end distilled spirits are a great entrée into upscale social circles.”
Marley grimaced en route to the kitchen. She paused long enough to toe off her high heels, which she kicked into the corner by the door. She padded into the living room and grabbed her father’s glass off the coaster on the end table. Magoo trotted behind her, delighted with the prospect of a trip to the kitchen.
“You look nice, by the way,” her dad said.
“Thanks. My first charity event since I started the new job.”
“Things go well?”
“Great. Good turnout, very generous donors.”
Her dad set the earphones on the arm of the sofa and turned back to his computer as Marley reached the kitchen. A bottle of Basil Hayden’s bourbon rested on the counter, and Marley yanked open the freezer and grabbed the requisite number of ice cubes, careful not to make them too big or too small. She hesitated, then grabbed an empty glass for herself.
He’s probably right about bourbon and upscale social circles.
“So Dad,” she called. “How long are you in town?”
“A week at least, but I’ll be traveling to a lot of meetings so I’ll mostly be out of your hair. I want to give you plenty of privacy in case you and Curtis need space to work things out.”
Marley rolled her eyes and picked up both glasses. “Dad. I’m not getting back with Curtis.”
“Never rule out the possibility of reconciliation, Marley.”
Marley bit her tongue, resisting the urge to point out that her father had ruled out the possibility of reconciliation with five previous wives when he’d married his sixth last spring. Marriage was not a subject she cared to discuss with her dad.
“So speaking of your mother, have you heard from her lately?”
Speaking of
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