Which meant today had to be a bath day for the snake. Reginald would make his weekly call tonight, and he wouldn’t be happy if Rasputin hadn’t gotten squeaky clean yet.
Of course, this would fall on a day I had a date with an unbelievably good-looking man who was far above my station in life. A day when I really should shop for an outfit that would make me look like I fit in with the Greenwich socialite crowd. A day when I needed to wash my wayward curls.
Still, it had to be done. Since it was already three in the afternoon, I needed fortification before attempting the snake’s bath. I tapped at cabinets until I located the fridge, which had been cleverly disguised with faux-cabinet doors. I pulled out salami, sliced Swiss, Dijon mustard, and pickles, then slapped them on a deli roll on the counter. I felt a bit shady digging around in someone else’s kitchen, but Reginald had instructed me to help myself to the food. He had even stocked his fridge and cabinets according to the food preferences I’d specified in my application form.
There were some definite perks to pet-sitting for the wealthy.
I sank onto a pale blue French armchair and watched Rasputin as I ate. Sometimes, the snake’s slow movements were more interesting to me than TV. By the time I finished my sandwich, he had draped himself over his water bowl, so I decided to get the bath going. I could probably slip him in and out before he knew what was happening.
I walked down to the oversized bathroom, finding the warm water dispenser Reginald had described. It actually poured non-chlorinated water into the tub at just the right temperature for Rasputin’s bath. No muss, no fuss.
I hoped.
After prepping the snake’s larger cage so I could slide him right into it after he had freshened up, I returned to his transportable cage to retrieve him for a bath. Predictably, he flipped into a ball, but not before I got my hands around his middle. He seemed fairly calm as we walked down the hall.
In the bathroom, I tried to gently transfer him to the tub, but he refused to let go of me. I leaned in closer and plopped him into the water with a little splash. He froze for a moment, then began darting from one end of the tub to the other using extended, S-shaped movements. I leaned back, hoping he wouldn’t slither right up and out onto the pale wood floor, but he seemed to calm down and relax into the water’s warmth.
My phone rang, so I dried my hands and slid the phone from my pocket. It was Stone.
“Yes?” I hoped I didn’t sound snippy, but I was sort of preoccupied.
“Sorry to bother you again, but I wanted to let you know that I moved our reservation up by an hour, if that’s okay? My friend Dietrich said we could swing by tonight, but he’s heading out around nine for some party, so we’d have to get down there earlier than I thought.”
I swallowed my apprehension, hoping I’d have time to find something to wear. “Sure. No problem.”
“Will see you out front, then. Red already knows where to pick you up.”
“Okay, thanks.” My face flushed as I thought about spending one-on-one time with Stone at a fancy restaurant, and I was glad he couldn’t see me.
I hung up and turned to set the phone on the sink. When I spun back around, there was no snake in the tub.
Something dark moved above me, and I snapped my gaze upward. Rasputin had somehow curled himself around the shower rod, and none too loosely. His tongue flicked out once, twice—like a warning. I’d read that snakes used their tongues to test the air temperature, but I still felt threatened.
I adopted the firm tone I’d used when kenneling fractious dogs at my dad’s office. “Come on, big guy. You’re all done here. Let’s get you back in your comfy cage.” I didn’t want to come at the snake head-on, but there was no way to sneak up on him. Reginald had told me ball pythons rarely bite, but I had my doubts.
With my left hand, I snapped my fingers in front of him, then clamped my right hand over his back. I stopped snapping and grabbed him behind his head, like Jacques had shown me. The snake surprised me by loosening his coils and turning remarkably docile, so I could easily pull him from the shower rod. Once he was securely in-hand, I raced directly up the hall and deposited him in his larger cage. As if relieved, he slid right into his hiding place, which was a large plastic stone with a hole cut out of it. I figured I wouldn’t see him until tomorrow, which was more than fine with me.
I took stock of my appearance and glanced at the clock. I had time to shower, but there certainly wouldn’t be enough time for a shopping excursion. I ran into the guest room and rummaged wildly in my backpack, finally retrieving a bell-sleeved floral maxi dress from Anthropologie I’d shoved in at the last minute. It looked second-hand, because it was, and it was crumpled. Since I had no idea where Reginald hid his ironing board, I would just hang the dress up in the guest bathroom while I showered and hope for the best.
As for shoes, I’d packed Doc Martens, Converse tennies, and Crocs. There was just no fancying any of those up. The clock was still ticking and I knew it would take a while to tame my curls, so I made a decision.
I would probably be the first chick to ever show up at The White Peony in Doc Martens, but hopefully the maxi dress was long enough to hide them. At the very least, I’d have clean hair.
Chapter 6
When Red’s black car pulled up early at four-forty, I had to race to put on my finishing touches. I quick-scrunched molding wax into my curls, added a final coat of mascara, and threw my wallet into a beat-up hobo purse with zero swag factor.
Rasputin was still tucked into the hole in his rock, but when I stepped toward the cage, he poked his head out. Maybe he was hungry, but his feeding day wasn’t until tomorrow. Besides, I didn’t particularly want to handle a frozen rat at the moment.
He looked at me with a snake-stare that was predictably soulless, but there was some new hint of recognition in those golden eyes. Or maybe I was imagining things.
As I strode out of the apartment, a different doorman stood sentinel at the front entrance. He was younger, maybe my age, and he looked me up and down twice, restoring my hopes that I had achieved some level of attractiveness. I beamed down at Stone, who was waiting for me on the sidewalk.
However, when I hit the next to last step, I tripped on my own lug soles and took a none-too-graceful tumble. Stone lurched forward in a vain attempt to catch me, but predictably, I landed on my hands and knees, directly in front of his soft, caramel color loafers.
He kneeled and extended both hands, carefully helping me to my feet. His brow furrowed in genuine concern. “Are you okay?”
Nodding self-consciously, I pulled my hands from his and gingerly brushed my palms together, to rid them of the dirt from the sidewalk. He produced a clean tissue to aid the process, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. Although my knees and palms were a little scraped up, the thing that had sustained the most injury was my one remaining sliver of pride. “I’m fine. Just a klutz, that’s all.”
I hoped against hope he hadn’t noticed my Doc Martens, but he motioned to the black boot tips protruding from under my dress. “Nice shoes. I guarantee Dietrich will love them.”
I nodded, appreciating Stone’s attempt to set me at ease.
Taking my hand, Stone helped me up and led me across the wide sidewalk to the car. Red gave me a generous wink, holding the car door open for me. As Stone walked around to the other door, Red whispered, “You look stunning this evening.”
Stone started filling me in the moment I slid into the leather seat next to him. “My mom called Mrs. Fenton today, to offer condolences and to ask when the funeral would be. She said Margo’s mom was totally beside herself,