Chapter Eleven
Ruby
When I come home from my Tuesday night date with Glenn, Oliver and Madison’s veterinarian, the debrief panel is Madison and her sister Katie, Oliver, Sami, and .
. . Mrs. Lipsky, our elderly next-door neighbor?
This is the third date I’ve gone on, and there’s no question someone will be waiting on our sofa to interrogate me.
It’s only a question of who. Mrs. Lipsky is a curveball.
“Hi, Katie,” I say, slightly surprised to see her. She usually drops in on the weekends. “How are you doing, Mrs. Lipsky?”
She waves her arm to dismiss the question, the sleeve of her electric pink muumuu fluttering. “Don’t change the subject. How was your date?”
Katie and I exchange an amused glance acknowledging that there was no subject to change from.
I plop into an armchair and point at Madison. “You did not win the bet.”
Madison flops back against the sofa with a pout while Sami breaks into the chorus of her song, “Dumb Boy.”
Oliver sighs. “Sorry, Rube. I agreed with Madi that he could be a good fit.” Alarm crosses his face. “Wait, do we have to find a new veterinarian?"
“We better not,” Mrs. Lipsky growls. “Dr. Berry is the best vet in Austin, and I’m gonna be mad if you messed this up.”
“Dr. Berry is your vet too?” That explains why she’s here.
“How do you think these feline neophytes found him when the cat distribution system sent them five? Of course he’s my vet.”
Mrs. Lipsky has been hanging out with us more since last summer and the Catpocalypse that bonded Oliver and Madison even better than I could have plotted.
She likes picking up our phrases, and I love when she mixes stuff like “cat distribution system” with “feline neophytes” in the same sentence, bless her.
“He’s Daisy’s vet too,” Katie adds. Ah. She’d adopted one of the rescued kittens and named her after Daisy Buchanan. (Did I mention the cats were found in Gatsby’s?)
“I’m glad I didn’t know how high the stakes were before I met Glenn tonight. If I tell you it’s a disaster, are you keeping me or the vet?”
Sami says, “You.”
Four other voices say, “Dr. Berry.”
“Don’t dial it down to protect my feelings,” I say.
“Finding a good vet is harder than finding a good gynecologist,” Mrs. Lipsky says.
Oliver, knowing the jokes Mrs. Lipsky is capable of making next, steps in. “We’d feel bad about dropping you, but if Mrs. Lipsky says it’s that important, our hands are tied.”
“You’re terrible people,” I tell them. “Except you, Sami. You’re the best human.”
“I’m dying here,” Mrs. Lipsky says. “Is Dr. Berry going to cancel all my appointments? Because he’s the only vet who can handle Migos.” Migos is her tiny Yorkie with a big attitude.
“Pretty sure you’re all safe,” I say. “It went okay. Not a disaster.”
“But not great,” Katie says, making the deduction.
I nod. “Awkward. It wouldn’t be a big deal if I had to take one of your animals to him for an appointment, but he and I are meant to be small-talk friends.”
Madison sighs. “Well, you look cute and you’re funny, so this must be Dr. Berry’s fault. I’d still pick him, but I’m glad I won’t have to choose. Give us the details.”
I get comfortable and tell them about my unremarkable date, and everyone eventually leaves satisfied that I don’t need to be disowned.
When Charlie wants a debrief at work the next morning, it’s a relief to give him the more honest version of the story.
“Do you have any pets I don’t know about, and do they go to Dr. Glenn Berry?” I ask as I stow my tote bag and put on my lanyard.
“No, but hold on. The guy’s name was Glenn? You didn’t tell me that. I don’t even need a report. I can guess based on his name. Boring. Dresses like a dad. If he was an animal, he’d be a trout.”
I blink at him. “Why a trout?”
“First boring animal I could think of.”
“Because his name is Glenn?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Glenn with two Ns.”
“Doesn’t help.”
I smirk. “You know the hottest man to ever come out of Austin is named Glen, right?”
He pauses and thinks. “I’m giving hottest to McConaughey, but I would go climbing with Glen Powell. Assumption withdrawn. How did it go?”
“It was fiiiiine,” I say like my brothers used to when my mom told them to take out the trash, “but not fine!” I give that fine a chirpy tone.
He nods that he gets it. “It was drinks and a bar game, right?”
“Kind of. The pub has an event every week called First Date Tuesday. They invite people who are going on a first date to have it there. You download their app, connect with your date, and then do their questions and games and share answers. They’re timed to finish after ninety minutes, so if it’s awful, you know the misery is coming to an end. ”
“I heard about this place from a girl at the gym.”
“Because she wants you to take her? Sounds like a pick me girl.”
He gives me a confused look. “No, it came up in conversation. Smart idea.”
Right. Guess I did jump to a random conclusion.
“Glenn agrees it’s smart. So smart that when I made a trip to the restroom, one of the waitresses told me I was the fourth person she’d seen him bring.”
“How come this dude isn’t getting past first dates? Red flag.”
“Doesn’t matter. We didn’t have much in common. Without the prompts in the app, we would have run out of things to say. And he does dress like a dad.”
“Tell me the name of the place again. I’m going to check it out.”
There it is again, that knee-jerk territorial reaction, like I don’t want to give him the name. That doesn’t even make sense. I’ve only gone to the pub once. It’s not like it’s “my” place. “Doodles,” I say, choosing to be normal. Or at least act like it. “Are you taking Sydney?”
“Maybe. But she’s pretty easy to talk to so far.”
Super. Glad to hear it.
I stand and smooth my bright blue pencil skirt. I’ve paired it with a black and white polka-dot shirt, and a skinny belt and ballet flats in fuchsia patent leather. I feel like a 1940s Wonder Woman. “I’m going to go do the job I’m underpaid for. Care to join me?”
“I need to touch base with Sandy about the library conference first.”
I give him a salute and head to the fiction section, hoping he didn’t pick up on my relief that he didn’t follow. We’re off-kilter this morning. Or maybe it’s just me. But why?
After thinking about it while I turn on the computers, I reach a conclusion: I shouldn’t feel threatened because he has easy conversations with Sydney.
He has them with all my roommates too. If he gels with her that well, it’s a good sign she’ll fit right in.
If she does, it means she’s cool, which means she’s good for Charlie.
That’s why I give her a genuine smile when she walks in shortly before noon. “Hey, Sydney.”
“Hey, Ruby.”
“Charlie is in nonfiction somewhere if that’s who you’re looking for.”
“Thanks.”
A few minutes later, they walk back to the reference desk together, where she waves at me.
“Bye, Ruby.”
“Bye, Sydney.” As soon as she’s out of earshot, I turn to Charlie, who’s smiling at nothing. “What was that all about?”
“She wanted to know if I’d be interested in getting together for dinner or something.”
“You said yes, right? Yes to both. Yes to dinner and yes to ‘or something’? You’re going on a second date?” I demand.
“Yes.” His smile widens. “And yes. But not a second date. Lunch doesn’t count. That was a hang. This is a first date.”
I groan. “I’m so jealous that you get to go out with someone you’ve at least met before, who you’re sure wants to be there.”
“That’s true, but making it a date makes it feel . . . formal?” He takes his seat and wakes up his monitor. “What would you think about doing a double date?”
“Me and you?”
He nods. “And whoever the girls stick you with next.”
“You want me to go out with you and Sydney and bring a perfect stranger?” I say it like it’s slightly ridiculous, but if my next dude is another dud—and so far, that’s the pattern—at least I can entertain myself by watching his date with Sydney.
“Why not?” he says. “Kind of takes the pressure off, you know?”
I can see a few potential problems with this plan, like my next blind date might feel awkward to be the only stranger in a group of four. But that’s not my problem. I’m not going to pass up a front-row seat to watching Charlie in action.
“Good idea,” I say. “I’ll text the girls to let them know whoever fixes me up next, it’s going to be a double date.”
“Cool.” He turns to his monitor, the whole thing settled in his Chill Charlie way.
I like this plan. No matter who they set me up with next, I’ll be hanging out with Charlie, and who wouldn’t want to do that? Charlie makes everything better.
He’s even making me look forward to another blind date.