15. Dallas #2
They walked to the door, and Irene showed her how to enter into the keypad the six-digit code, which Greta committed to memory. It was a relief to be back in the cool of the house, but she didn’t feel like she could go upstairs without helping Irene find the cats she’d let out.
Irene got a can of tuna and took it outside to the middle of the yard, popping it open and setting it down in the grass.
She waited until the two cats came slinking over to her and grabbed the first one, bringing him inside.
Greta was too scared to pick up the other.
So Irene went back out for the second, who hissed and clawed her ankle when she put him on the kitchen floor.
Greta was horrified. “Are you okay?” she said, certain that cat scratch fever was a real thing.
“Barely broke the skin,” Irene said, wetting a paper towel to wipe the blood off her leg. Then she washed her hands, brushed the cat hair off her dress, and looked up at the ceiling. “?‘Goodbye Earl’?” she said. “First thing on a Monday? You must be in a mood.”
“I don’t know how to turn it off,” Greta said.
“Hey, Captain,” Irene said, “turn off that music.”
The music stopped.
“Thank you,” Greta said, exhaling with relief. “She would not listen to me.”
“You’ve always got to start with ‘Hey, Captain’ to get her attention.”
Greta was desperate now to go put her clothes on, but Irene didn’t leave. Instead, she went to the built-in Miele and helped herself to a cup of coffee. “Hey, Captain, what’s the temperature outside?” she said.
“The temperature is ninety-six degrees,” said the captain.
“Already?” Irene said.
Bunny vomited a pile of grass and drool on the kitchen floor. Irene acted as though this was a regular occurrence. She got a paper towel and wiped it up. “Time to feed the cats. I’ll explain all of this to you when I get home from work tonight,” she said.
Greta was impressed; Irene had to be close to seventy. “Where do you work?”
“I run the front desk of a large dental practice,” Irene said.
“I deal with people all day long, scheduling appointments for everything from cavities to braces to dentures. I handle insurance claims and have to keep all the supplies stocked. Same job for thirty years. I’m not like Lucy.
I don’t like change. Last time I left Dallas was five years ago. ”
“Where did you go?”
“Switzerland,” she said. “Rex had a bee in his bonnet about seeing alpine cows. Very pretty place, great cheese, but lord, I hate to fly. I was so happy to get back home. We still live in the same house Lucy grew up in.”
Greta felt a pang of guilt that she wasn’t helping her own mother pack boxes. “My mother is about to move from the house I grew up in,” Greta said. “My father died a few months ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” Irene said. “Do you have children, Greta?”
“A daughter,” Greta said. “Emmi. She’s at the university in Freiburg, so we haven’t seen her much this year. But she’s coming here to visit us soon.” Not soon enough, of course, and Emmi probably couldn’t stay as long as Greta wanted. But she would take whatever she could get.
Irene’s smile faded a bit. “I’m sorry she won’t get to meet my grandson,” she said. “He’s college age too.” She reached up and touched her curlers.
Greta could not bear to be in her state of undress for another minute. She took the bag Irene had given her and said goodbye, excusing herself as she left the kitchen.
“I’ll still be here,” Irene called after her.
For how long? Greta wanted to ask. As Greta was passing by the front door, she noticed that one of her shoes was missing.
She wondered whether she’d accidentally left it outside the previous night while the dogs were making such a fuss over their arrival.
She opened the door to check, but her shoe was not on the mat.
Instead, Greta spotted what appeared to be the excrement of several dogs, along with a ball of paper.
She unwrapped it from around a stone and read the words: Asshole loser!
Greta shut the door firmly and locked it. Then she went back to the kitchen, where Irene was pouring dog food into two bowls. “One of my shoes is missing, there’s a large pile of feces on the doormat, and I found this note.” She held out the paper.
Irene set the bag of dog food on the counter and took the paper. Greta watched her go pale.
“Those little sons of bitches,” Irene said, wadding it up in her hand.
“Who?”
Irene looked up. “Just some neighborhood brats,” she said with a smile. “It’s nothing really, a little prank.”
“A prank ?”
“You know how kids can be,” Irene said with a shrug. She put the bowls of dog food on the floor and watched as they dug in. “I’ll get Rex, and he’ll clean the mess up off the porch.”
“Yes, but…” Greta wasn’t sure exactly what to ask but felt she should know who had sent such an aggressive message. “Who— Why…?”
“It won’t happen again,” Irene said. “Or on second thought, it probably will.” She sighed. “Lucy’s son ruffled a few feathers around here, which is why they left town in a hurry. It’s not what people think, but it didn’t look good.”
“What didn’t look good?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” Irene said, sweetly but with resolve. “And it’s not my story to tell. My grandson’s a good boy who did a very dumb thing, and I’ll leave it at that.”
Greta nodded, but she felt very skeptical of these people. In her experience, good people didn’t behave in such a way that led to angry notes, dog poop, exile to Berlin, and six months in a New Mexico prison.
“As for the missing shoe,” said Irene, “I would check the dog beds. I’m sorry to say it’s probably a goner.”
Greta had no suitcase, no shoes, and no desire to spend another minute on this cruise ship. If only she could disembark.