Mom Over Miami Read Online Free Page B

in the garage then hit the door opener—in this case, door closer—and trap her safelyinside. We’d no sooner land a lump of deli meat on the garage floor and hit the button when she’d gobble it down, race out to the driveway and look at us standing in the half-open door with an expression on her dopey adorable doggie face that said “Hey, y’all should come out here. It’s raining ham!”
    So we’d load up and try again. We must have stayed at it for a good half an hour before we finally left her outside and let the chips—and I don’t mean nachos—fall where they may.
    In our defense, it did seem like a really brilliant idea at the time.
    —Hannah, skunk-sprayed dog owner
    S am staggered sleepily into the living room and pinched his nose. His voice sounded like a cartoon character with a cold when he asked, “What stinks?”
    “The dog.” Hannah held their fawn-colored greyhound’s bright pink leash out as far as her arm would allow. Once they’d cornered Squirrelly Girl they hadn’t dared let her run off and hide—or worse, have another run-in with her new stinky play pal.
    The boy grimaced and maneuvered around to keep from getting on the tail end of the beast. “What’ja feed her? Rotten eggs?”
    “It’s not coming from her.” Hannah laughed. “She had a run-in with a skunk.”
    “A skunk?” He looked around but wisely did not take his fingers from his nose. “Where?”
    “It was under the back deck.” She pointed to the ground-level redwood decking jutting out from the sliding glass doors at the back of the living room. “We tried to get the dog into the garage, but—”
    Hannah stopped. The kid thought he was living with two bright, capable, clear-thinking individuals at last. Why shake his faith with the retelling of the ham-bomb story?
    “But we couldn’t get the dog to stay in the garage, so Payt ran off to the grocery store to get some tomato juice.”
    “Huh?”
    “Hmm, guess that made about as much sense as saying, ‘I lost my shoe so I ate a sandwich,’ huh?”
    “You lost your shoe?” Sam looked down at the fuzzy pink slippers on her feet.
    “No, it was a non sequitur.”
    “I thought you said it was a sandwich?” He looked decidedly worried.
    “No, the sandwich is just a…” She tried to think how to explain the concept in terms Sam would get right away.
    Before her brain would engage, though, the dog, spotting the only human in the house likely to be on her side in the whole “what’s a little stink when you’re having fun?” issue, lurched for Sam.
    Jerked forward, Hannah fought to stand her ground. That was all she wanted at this point, wasn’t it?
    In her family life and in her relationships and responsibilities? To simply stand her ground.
    And maybe not get skunk smell on her house shoes.
    She reined in the dog and smiled at Sam. “Forget the sandwich, honey. Payt went to get the tomato juice so we can bathe the dog in it.”
    Sam’s expression went from worried to bewildered.
    “The juice gets the smell out.” She struggled to keep Squirrelly still, which was about as easy as trying to hold a kite motionless on a windy day. “Or at least that’s what Aunt April said when I called her for advice.”
    “You’re going to give Squirrelly Girl a bath in tomato juice?”
    “We’re going to try.”
    “ This I want to see!”
    Hannah glanced down at the lean, muscular animal and winced. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m counting on you to help.”
    “I like to help.” Sam grinned. “In fact, I wish you’d waked me up so we could have all gone to the grocery store together!”
    “I almost did, but then…” But then she’d come to her senses.
    They’d chosen Loveland and this particular subdivision in the town for the closeness to schools, shopping and church. They could find all of those things within a few blocks of the house. This helped them “create the ambience of community while still enjoying the larger context of the city setting.” At