The Art of Wag Read Free

with the kitchen and the bathroom on the far end, the space worked, and now it was her home. And Roxy’s home too. In an effort to meet his criteria for being a responsible adult, Tracy dutifully paid her father the small rent he requested every month. Well, most months, anyway.
    Tracy stood and waited for Roxy to finish her activities and waved feebly at Larry Lowell, who was standing outside his law office on the other side of the street, grinning at her. She would undoubtedly see Larry later tonight when he came in for dinner at the restaurant. Although he was a nice-enough guy, she wished he’d get over his little-boy crush on her. After all this time, most of the residents of Alpine Grove were aware that Larry had the hots for her. It was getting embarrassing. A few months ago, she was thrilled to see him eating with some other women at the restaurant from time to time. He’d had more than one actual date. It was a miracle. But then all those romantic aspirations appeared to fail, and now he was alone again, spending way too much time loitering around her hostess stand. Larry had to be the most regular of the restaurant’s regular customers. Apparently, the man never, ever, ate at home.
    Sometimes living in a small town felt like being an animal in a zoo. Everyone could see when you did everything. The fact that Tracy was practically the only person her age living here was also a little disconcerting. All her friends from high school were gone, so most people she knew were either significantly older or younger than she was. The local chamber of commerce held seminars about how the town might attract younger people, so it wouldn’t end up turning into a retirement community. There was a lot of hand-wringing about “brain drain” as high school students graduated and moved away to find jobs elsewhere. Tracy knew why. By now, the rest of her classmates with real jobs probably weren’t eating ramen noodles or living in a 300-square-foot studio above a gift store.
    Tracy turned around and looked down at the little dog at her feet. “Okay Roxy. I hope you’re done, because I really don’t want Larry to run across the street for a little afternoon rendezvous. We’re picking up the pace and getting outta here. I need my nap.”

    After a short but restorative nap, Tracy put on her much-loathed hostess uniform and went to work at job number two. At most restaurants, employees were asked to wear something simple like black pants and a white shirt. But no, at this place, the owner had other ideas. Tracy detested the short skirt that was held up by green-and-red suspenders, but the ruffle-laden blouse was even worse. She looked like a deranged Italian oompa-loompa.
    She opened the back door to the kitchen of the Italian restaurant and found Lou, the cook, stirring a marinara sauce that was simmering in a stainless-steel vat on the huge commercial stove. The rich, savory aroma of basil and oregano permeated the room. The large balding man waved his spoon at her. “You aren’t gonna like it.”
    Tracy turned to face Lou. “Like what?”
    “Jerry’s on a rampage.” Lou’s face was red and it probably wasn’t just from the heat of the stove.
    “Don’t you mean Giovanni?” Tracy said with a smirk. The owner of the restaurant had no Italian heritage whatsoever, but that didn’t stop him from pretending he did.
    “I have a lotta things I could call him, but you’re too young to hear that type of language. I’m just letting you know he’s cranky and sharing the amore with everyone nearby.”
    Tracy nodded. “Thanks for the warning and for protecting my tender sensibilities. I’ll try and stay out of his way.”
    “Oh, and Jenny is pissed at you because she thinks you gave Anna more tables last night. She whined to Jerry when she got here to do prep, which probably didn’t improve his mood. Then she marked up the seating chart with a red pen.”
    Tracy looked over at the chart on the wall and took note of the