Here Comes Trouble (8 page)

"I'm glad you like it." Her mother cut the coffee
cake and put a piece on each saucer. "I'm sure I
don't know what you mean about it being a guilt
offering, though."

"Quin told me you expected him to take me to
the reunion."

"Why, I never said any such thing. I simply told
him you were too shy to ask him."

"Mom." Stella shook her head. There was no
point in belaboring the issue. When it came to audacity, her mother had an extra-large heaping.

The bag the birdhouse had come in was still in
her hands and she fought an impulse to crumple
it. When she tried to fold it, she realized it wasn't
empty.

"More gifts?" She removed a rectangular gift
box. "What's this?"

"Oh, it's for you." Her mother bit her lip. "Open
it later."

Stella, of course, being her mother's daughter,
did no such thing. She lifted the lid. Inside was
one of those mini-books sold in grocery stores:
How to Lasso Your Cowboy. "Mom-"

Her mother simply nodded.

Stella opened her mouth to explain that her relationship with Quin wasn't like that, but then she
remembered the kiss from last night and firmly
clamped her lips closed. No matter how much she
insisted otherwise, her mother would never believe
her. Glancing at the book's back cover, she noted
it listed ways to get your fellow to propose. "I
really don't think-"

"It's a mother's job to make sure her daughter
is prepared."

"Mom, this isn't-"

"Let's not talk about it anymore, dear. We always did understand each other. Now, eat your
cake."

The only problem with going to Doc Stephens'
veterinary office, thought Quin as he stood at the
reception desk, was it meant dealing with the receptionist, a.k.a. The Gargoyle. Just standing here,
only a couple of feet in front of her, with that evil
eye trained on him, was enough to make a grown
man cringe.

The doc had kept Tramp overnight for observation, but had pronounced him fit and ready to
go home. Quin was almost safe, all he had to do
was pay for Tramp's care, and then he'd quickly
get out of The Gargoyle's eyeball range.

She kept those narrowed eyes on him as he
wrote out his check. "That an out of town or local
check?"

"It's drawn on my bank in New York."

"Got any I.D.?"

Quin stopped writing. She really did have it in
for him. "Is a driver's license enough I.D. for you?
It's not as though you haven't known me since I
was a kid or anything."

She humphed. "After your doings last night-"

Just then, Doc Stephens emerged from the back
room, with Tramp on a leash. The dog barked a
greeting at Quin.

"I'm sure Quin's good for it, Mrs. Gordon.
Tramp's vouching for him."

She shrugged. "Takes one to know one."

When the doc offered Tramp's leash to him, Quin wasn't sure why. Handing his check to The
Gargoyle, he then took the leash.

"I should get the results on Tramp's blood work
in a few days," said Doc Stephens, handing Quin
a small green box. "You'll want to give him one
of these pills once a month."

"There's some mistake," said Quin.

"No. These are heartworm pills." Doc Stephens
clapped Quin on the back. "You'll do fine."

"When you said Tramp was ready to go home,
I thought you meant home to his owner."

"Since you're footing the bill, I figured you
were his owner, Quin. Tramp's a stray."

"I'm only going to be in town for a short while.
Tramp can't go with me."

The Gargoyle made a strangling noise.

"Now, that is a problem," said Doc Stephens.
"We can turn him over to animal control, but
Tramp's not likely to be adopted in less than two
weeks." Doc scratched his head. "After that, he'll
be put down. Seems a waste."

"Don't you know anyone who wants a dog?"

"Can't say as I do. Mrs. Gordon, you know anyone who wants a fine dog like Tramp?"

She glanced at the dog, then rolled her eyes.
Turning her back on them, she wheeled her chair
to the other side of the reception area.

Quin stooped to pet Tramp, who wiggled his
stumpy tail happily. There was no way he was turning such a great dog over to animal control.
"Maybe Mom will keep him."

But things didn't go quite as well with his
mother as Quin hoped. She'd taken one look at
Tramp, then shrieked, "Not in my house!"

He wasn't sure what to do with the hellhound.
He couldn't take him back where he'd found him.
The dog trusted him. They'd walked into town together and Quin stopped in at the pet store to buy
food. He also came away with a ball, throwing
disk and rag bone. A healthy animal needs exercise.

His mom finally agreed to allow Tramp to stay
in the yard until he could find another home for
him. The problem was, who?

No, that wasn't the real problem. Instead of
who, the problem was how. How best to convince
Stella she wanted to be a mother?

As soon as her mom left, Stella headed back to
her garden, only to be constantly interrupted. Mrs.
Maplethorp brought over a casserole, saying she'd
made double by accident. Another neighbor
brought cookies. Neither woman had wanted to
come in, instead they were after gossip.

Stella wished she'd never heard of Quin. At the
rate she was going, she'd never get her seedlings
into the ground. When Cait came around the corner of her house, Stella decided it was time to
throw in the trowel.

"If you want to know where Quin is this morning, I don't know," she announced, hoping to head
off the endless questions she'd already fenced that
morning.

"Quin's in the park playing with his mongrel,
dear," replied Cait matter of factly, shifting a paper
bag and a plastic wrapped plate of cookies. "I'm
here to see you."

"Won't you please come in?" Stella led her into
the kitchen.

Cait laid down her things on the kitchen table.
"I hope you'll enjoy the cookies."

"Would you like something to drink?"

"No. I can't stay." She opened a paper sack on
the table and pulled out a book. "This is for you.
I've heard it's a best seller."

Stella glanced at the book. The title was written
in screaming orange lettering against a navy background. Man Hunting: How to Trap a Husband.

Good heavens. First her own mother and now
this. Evidently, they overestimated Quin'scharms. Or perhaps they were worried about her
ability to attract a man? Come to think of it, they
might be right. It was a depressing thought, and
even more lowering was that they apparently believed she needed a man in order to find happiness.

Stella swallowed, not sure quite what to say.
Good manners required she thank Cait. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"If a thing is done, it's best done right."

Stella wondered if the pun had been deliberate
as Cait gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"I'd better run now," Cait said, gathering up her belongings since her mission had evidently been
accomplished. "Have to make it to the Ladies
Auxiliary booth before they close."

Stella walked her to the front door. Someone
was knocking as they arrived.

Cait said, "Oh, it's Mrs. Burnstein, I'd know
that knock anywhere. Don't let her fluster you,
dear."

During the next hour, Stella had no time to
make it back outside. Visitor after visitor arrived,
including Janice Smith, Quin's mother, and even
the minister's wife. Finally, Stella left her front
door ajar and kept the coffee pot set on brew.

She'd just been about to stick some of the casseroles and baked goods in the freezer when she
heard Miss Tipplemouse knock timidly at the open
door. "Stella?"

Stella, arms filled with plastic freezer containers, stepped to the hallway where she could see
Miss Tipplemouse at the door. "Please come on
in."

"Your door is open. Shall I close it behind me?"

"No point in it. I've had lots of visitors this
morning."

"You've always been popular," said Miss Tipplemouse as she joined Stella in the kitchen. "I've
brought you some coffee cake. Oh dear. I see
you've already got some."

Stella tried not to snicker. Got some was truly an understatement. She had enough cakes, cookies,
and casseroles to feed the entire Littlemouth High
School Senior Class after a hard day of conjugating verbs. Probably enough for the Junior and
Sophomore class too. "Your cake has cherry filling, though, doesn't it?"

Miss Tipplemouse nodded.

"That's my favorite. Please have a seat and we
can each have a slice. Would you like some coffee
or tea?"

"Tea, please." Miss Tipplemouse clutched a
shopping bag tightly in her hands.

Stella put all the food back on the counter beside the refrigerator. As she immersed the tea bag
into a mug of hot water, Miss Tipplemouse said,
"There's something I've been wishing to discuss
with you."

"Yes?"

"I know you teach science-biology-at the
school but ..."

"Yes?"

"All those chemicals and, well, animals to be
dissected ..."

"Yes?"

"And you are careful to buckle your seatbelt
when you drive, aren't you?"

"Yes." What on earth was Miss Tipplemouse
trying to say?

"Then there's the matter of looking both ways
at corners before crossing. Safety, I mean."

Stella nodded as she handed Miss Tipplemouse
her tea, hoping she'd get a clue to the topic of
discussion.

"Working at the library, I do have young people
come in and ask for books on the subject."

"On the subject?"

"One can't be too cautious these days. For instance, I assume you use gloves at school?"

"Ah, gloves?"

"Yes, dear. When handling chemicals and
such."

Stella was totally lost. She opened her mouth to
try to clarify, but Miss Tipplemouse placed the
shopping bag she'd been clutching onto the table
in front of Stella.

"My, how I do run on, but I did promise the
members of TROUBLE that I'd speak to you. I'm
so glad we've had this conversation." Miss Tipplemouse arose. "You stay right where you are. I
know my way to the door."

"Thank you," Stella called, but Miss Tipplemouse had already left. That had been one of the
most confusing conversations she'd ever had, even
with Miss Tipplemouse.

Pulling the rubber band from her hair, Stella
shook her head. As she stood, her gaze landed on
the bag Miss Tipplemouse had left. Maybe that would provide a clue to whatever she'd been trying to tell her.

She opened it and pulled out a book. Of course.
The Birds and the Bees: Worry-Free Dating and
Marriage in the 21st Century.

At first she didn't connect what Miss Tipplemouse had been hinting with the book. Then it
dawned on her what she'd meant. Safety. She obviously believed Stella needed a tried and true
method for safely getting hitched. Stella didn't
even want to think about Quin, yet the whole town
had decided they were destined for marriage.

If only Quin didn't confuse her, leave her aching for his touch. Now everyone in town evidently
knew how she felt and it probably meant Quin did
too. That wouldn't do, especially since she had
absolutely no intention of acting on those feelings.
She'd had enough of broken hearts.

"I visited Stella this morning," said Miss Tipplemouse with a beaming smile, although no one
could see it thanks to an overabundance of sofa
pillows nearly blocking her from view. "Mission
accomplished. I delivered the book to her."

In Debby Gregory's overcrowded front room,
each of the other women seemed to freeze in time
for a moment as their heads all swivelled to gaze
at Miss Tipplemouse.

It was a peculiar assembly, with Troublemakers scattered about a room filled to overflowing with
anything and everything remotely resembling Native American decor. A bleached cow skull hung
above the corner fireplace mantle, dream catchers
covered each of the four windows, while above
the windowsills, cloth resembling burlap draped
down over deadwood rods. Running down the left
side of the room was a staircase and the doweling
had been decorated with feathers and woven tapestries. In addition to a Southwestern-styled sofa
buried in gayly hued pillows, chairs covered in
bearskin and Naugahyde were crammed into any
available space.