4 Yip/Tuck Read Free Page A

local Animal Rescue League.
    “Well, you and Missy, Shar Summers and Babycakes, Mandy Beenerman and Nietzsche, Cheryl Dolacki and Nemo.” She paused to sip her white mocha latte.
    Shar was a teenaged TV star, Mandy owned a chain of local exercise studios, and Cheryl drew a cartoon strip that featured her Jack Russell, Nemo. All fitting choices but not nearly enough subjects to complete the calendar.
    “I asked Tova and Kiki.”
    That made sense. Tova was a model. I grunted acceptance. Missy took that as an invitation to sniff the trees in front of the music store. Fluffy waited impatiently, nose in the air.
    “I also asked Caro and Dogbert. If I can find a way to work in the cats, I’ll include Thelma and Louise too.” Darby’s tone dared me to disagree.
    I stifled a gasp at my cousin’s name. “You. Did. Not.” Caro and I weren’t speaking.
    “You had to realize I was going to ask her. She’s highly respected.”
    “She’s a pet shrink.”
    All right, I admit it, “shrink” sounded silly, but in truth, Caro is a damn fine animal behaviorist. A secret sense of pride beats in my heart, knowing how much my beautiful cousin has overcome the last few years. She’s worked hard for her success.
    “If she weren’t your cousin, you wouldn’t poke fun. In fact, you’d recommend her.”
    “If she wasn’t a brooch-stealing, get-her-feelings-hurt-by-the-truth kind of cousin.” Displeasure and annoyance quashed any positive feeling I’d had for my hardheaded, beautiful cousin.
    Darby tossed her empty cup into a public trashcan then walked on. “From everything you’ve told me, the two of you would be on speaking terms if you’d be the bigger person and apologize.”
    I swallowed the last of my chai latte. I held my empty cup out, waiting for the next can we passed. “Why do I have to be the one to say I’m sorry? It wasn’t my husband who violated the shrink oath and slept with my client. I’m not the one who thought she could save the big idiot from himself and the law. I’m just the loud-mouthed, caring cousin who pointed out the obvious. Caro needs to stop trying to save the world.”
    Darby slid a wry smile in my direction. “And you wonder why you two aren’t talking.”
    “Nope, I don’t wonder. I know exactly why. Caro is sensitive. And she holds a grudge.”
    Darby shook her head, blonde curls slapping her cheeks. “You spoke out of turn, and you know it, which is why you won’t talk to her. You owe her an apology.”
    I chewed on what she said for a couple of blocks. When we approached a trashcan, I tossed my now-mangled cup inside. Obviously, she was right, but for the life of me, I couldn’t come up with a believable rebuttal. I could pull out the stock, “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” but after two years, Darby kinda knew my business. That’s what best friends do. Keep you honest. Hold you to your word.
    Feeling a sudden chill, I pulled my denim jacket tightly across my chest. “Stop watching those self-help talk shows. You’re starting to sound like Caro.” It was the best I could come up with. I’d learned during my pageant years: if you can’t answer honestly, deflect.
    Darby shot me a winning smile. “Thanks.”
    She would take it as a compliment.
    I changed the subject back to the calendar. “We have to find a way for you and Fluffy participate. I could take the picture. You’d have to set the shot up, but I can press the camera button.”
    “We’ll see.” Darby was wisely noncommittal.
    We walked in silence, traffic occasionally whizzing past, filling in our quiet. The closer we got to the boutique and studio, the harder the dogs strained against their leashes. Everyone was excited to get to work. Except for Missy, who was probably ready for a morning snooze.
    It was only nine o’clock, leaving me a couple of hours until I opened for business. I mentally listed all the mini-projects I wanted to complete in the next two hours, starting with finding