Frugal Lissa Finds a Body -- Chapter One

Chapter Two

I patted my thigh and whistled for the dog. To my anxious sons, I said, "We're taking Honey with us, so you won't get sidetracked again from cleaning your room. Get busy."

They disappeared again, not quite slamming the door in their haste, but it was close. We exited the front door, and the nearly white Labrador loped along ahead of us, aiming for the street. "No, Honey, we're not going for a walk. Go to the garage door."

Our detached garage had become my personal workspace, and when I raised the large door, I had all the light and ventilation necessary to work on my reclamation projects. I led Abby inside and grabbed Honey's collar to pull her back before her tail hit a few home runs with several of the smaller objects resting nearby.

Besides trying to turn a small profit on the blog, I also rescued gently used and yard sale items. In the past year, I'd built quite a steady business providing a Tulsa decorator with "distressed" treasures I'd rehabbed, which she turned around and sold to clients for a five-hundred percent mark-up. I knew I was getting the shorter end of the stick, but it was still more profitable than if I tried to sell stuff myself online. The previous week, when my down-the-street-neighbor cleaned out her cabinets and closets, I'd discovered a wooden wine rack at the curb the next morning as Honey and I took our early stroll. Not one of those honeycomb-styled one, but a design with three big bent-C collars on each side. So, bottles could lay horizontally between the brackets and didn't need so much depth from the wall. A little cleaning, a smidgeon of glue, some new stain and—

"Voila," I exclaimed, whipping off the sheet I'd used to cover it.

Abby stood in the light of the door, dust motes floating around her like an aura. She cocked her head to one side as if trying to find words that wouldn't hurt my feelings. "If it's for me, you know I'm not much of a wine drinker."

No, Abby drank wine at swanky events to look sophisticated, but she was mostly a Michelob babe. I shook my head. "Think about re-purposing." I folded up the dust sheet until it was about the same size as a bath towel, then folded the fabric again to make a rectangle and shoved it between two of the open racks. "Hang this over your toilet and have the extra towel caddy you said you needed."

She snorted. "I barely see my bathroom anymore. My hours are a nightmare. Redecorating is particularly low on my list."

"Have you talked to your boss?"

"Try to get sympathy from Ivan the Terrible?" She shook her head. "No, but I have put out feelers. Hopefully, I'll get a job offer before he or his backstabbing assistant get wind of the news that I'm looking around other firms."

"Honey, I'm so sorry." I reached out to touch her arm, but Honey-the-dog thought I was talking to her and tried to wedge herself between us. By the time we got the oversized puppy to stop walking between our legs and almost tripping us, Abby and I were both laughing.

"Woof!" Honey grinned at us. Then she apparently decided her work was done and left to chase squirrels in the backyard. I followed her to open the gate.

"Does she ever catch any squirrels?" Abby asked. She stood just outside the garage and gestured toward the dog's departing rear end with its endlessly wagging tail.

I shook my head. "No, but she gets extra points for always thinking she might."

A couple of green plastic garden chairs stood nearby. I motioned for Abby to come and join me.

"It won't hurt my feelings if you don't want the re-purposed wine/towel rack," I said, sitting back in my chair and shooting her a grin. "But I think there's a little more here than you simply rejecting a new piece of décor. I'm ready to listen whenever you're ready to talk, but no pressure."

She nodded, scooting her chair closer. "You're right. I need to talk to someone about it. I'm so tired of living a rented life, Lissa. I rent an apartment I barely sleep in. I rent furniture because I don't feel ready to put down roots in Dallas. Even after all these years. We hit thirty over two years and I'm still living like a recent law school graduate. I come back home on a weekend and practically have to force myself to get on the plane to return to work. Unless I'm here in Rogerston, I never have fun anymore. All my co-workers are living the same miserable existence, or they're so focused on the corner office they can't see life beyond the firm's sign outside the elevator. I want a real life." She slapped her leg. "And by damn I will get one soon, even if the future doesn't include law."

"But you always wanted to be a lawyer, Abby."

"No, I always wanted to help people." She blew off a heavy sigh. "But the only people I help are the senior partners, who gain by my working an ungodly schedule to create a bunch of billable hours working to help faceless corporations. I never feel like I'm making a positive difference in life."

"Okay. I think I'm getting the gist of your tossing out that comment earlier about needing a new job." I reached over and squeezed her forearm. "I'm sure you have vacation time built up, and I have an extra bedroom that's sitting empty in the house—much to Jamey's consternation. You'd be doing me a favor if you came and stayed for a week to show him why we need a guest room in our house."

She laughed, but the sound of a slight catch at the end worried me. "If I did that I might never leave."

At least she was in a better mood about it.

I hoped.

Standing straight again, I slapped my thigh to call Honey then said. "Let's go see if my sons have made any progress on their room. If they have, I'm going to send them off to ride bikes and play at Tommy's house. We can sit at the kitchen table and gossip and eat cookies until it's time for us to head out for pizza and for you to go home. Then you can come back for movies."

Abby looked at her watch. "That's one plan. Another is you could see if the boys can stay at their friend Tommy's overnight after the bike riding, and we could get dolled up and go for a girls' night out at Encounters. Tonight is karaoke. Saw it on the hotel marque when we left the airport."

"Your mom is expecting you for dinner."

"My mom is also expecting to be a grandmother someday. I could meet my prince charming tonight if I go, or I could miss him entirely if I eat with my parents. So, going with you means I'll be doing what my mother truly wants, even if she doesn't know it yet."

"You're saying we'd be doing this to make your mom happy?"

"Yeah, someday I'll explain it to her."

"Well, I'll only do it if my best friend goes up on stage with me, instead of staying at the table holding court while I sing," I said. "Want to join me?"

"If I don't, you'll be a best friend short," Abby said, grinning. "And I couldn't live with myself if that happened."

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