The front bushes, old overgrown Japanese yews, had been removed and three burning bushes planted in a neat row.
To the left of the walkway a young crabapple had been planted. The same brick as the walkway had been used to create a circular planting bed around the crabapple, where yellow zinnias and dahlias along with a mixture of pink, red, rose, white, and yellow snapdragons added color and interest. To my eye, the only work left was some mulching around the fire bushes and cleanup.
“Nina! Look out!”
My head snapped up and I saw a big black blur barreling down on me.
BeBe!
I scrambled onto the back bumper of the pickup and hurled myself into its bed.
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Heather Webber
Two dinner plate-sized paws landed on top of the tailgate, and BeBe’s head appeared, drool dripping from her big lolling tongue.
Marty, panting and out of breath, grabbed BeBe’s leash, but couldn’t get her to budge.
BeBe strained, scratching the tailgate.
Reluctantly, I gave in and stuck out my hand. BeBe started licking it like it was a T-bone flavored doggy popsicle.
Ew!
“Kit!” I yelled.
Kit’s chin snapped up. He’d been working on the mulch.
His fuzzy head swiveled, and I lip-read the swear that came out of his mouth as he took in the situation.
I caught his gaze, shot daggers at him. Sharp ones.
For a second he looked like he wanted to run. He didn’t like angry women. He’d have to get over that.
BeBe continued to slobber as Kit hurried over. Marty had finally caught his breath and said to me, “Sorry, Nina. If I’d known you were coming, I’d have kept a tighter hold on her.
She must have smelled you or something.”
My hand dripped drool. I’d finally had enough and pulled it away, wiping it down my shorts.
There wasn’t enough degerminator in the world.
“What’s she doing here?” I asked Kit, not too nicely.
BeBe tried to jump into the truck bed with me. Kit tugged her leash away from Marty and gave him a dirty look.
“What?” Marty said. “BeBe must have smelled Nina or something. She just took off all of a sudden.”
“I wish you’d stop saying I smell!”
“If the deodorant fits,” Kit said.
“Ha. Ha.” If he didn’t look so little boylike with his fuzzy head and long, drooping eyelashes, he’d be dead meat.
“Don’t try to evade. What’s BeBe doing here?”
“Daisy got a new job. Crazy hours.”
127
I couldn’t help myself. Discreetly I took a sniff of my armpits and caught a whiff of Secret’s Mountain Glade.
Maybe BeBe had Secret fetish?
I folded my arms across my chest, felt some residual BeBe drool. I needed another shower. “What kind of job?”
All right, I was being nosy, but I couldn’t help myself.
“She’s in medicine.”
BeBe woofed. She apparently wanted some more Ninaci-cle, as her tongue hung over the tailgate, slurping air.
I forced myself not to get distracted (but who knew dogs had such long tongues?). “What kind of medicine?”
“Pharmaceuticals.”
There was a whole range of areas that covered, from pre-scription to recreational.
I decided not to press.
Looking up at the sound of pounding footsteps, I saw Deanna bearing down, a clipboard tucked under her out-
