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Ryan sent a text message to Gideon that he’s at Polly’s and not to wait for him with dinner. Then he picked up Cleo who was sleeping in the passenger seat. “Come Princess. I know it’s late and past your hour to go to bed, but I have to see Polly.”
Polly’s house was lighted like it was Christmas and when he approached the door he heard a lot of loud voices inside. Was she having a party? There was no music, so if not a party what kind of meeting was going on here? He pressed the bell button but no one answered the door. With all the ruckus inside, it was no wonder no one heard the bell, or perhaps they didn’t care to see who else came to visit.
Cleo looked up at him critical, with her button eyes and she almost asked him, “Are you sure you want to go in there?” No, he was not sure. At this hour, socializing with a bunch of who knew what yahoos was the last on his wish list. But he was curious what was going on in there and a bit worried for Polly. She was not the social butterfly kind of woman.
He rang the bell again longer this time. He had more luck and Polly opened the door. She was dressed in jeans and a mint green t-shirt. The bright color suited her, although Ryan missed her pajamas with various animals. He discovered he had a fondness for zebras. Her hair was clipped in a simple ponytail.
After registering all these details, Ryan saw that she was extremely agitated, wringing her hands and looking anguished. “Polly, what happened?”
“They came all together and I can’t fight them all, Ryan. I wish I was stronger, but I’m not. When I’m alone I think of talking to them about all that bothers me, but when they come, I’m powerless and unable to utter a word.” She extended her arms to take Cleo. “Give her to me. I’ll place her on the doggy pillow in front of the fireplace.”
“Not if your dog is around there,” Ryan replied afraid of what the big mongrel could do to his little princess.
Polly sighed. “Don’t worry, he’s not. He’d been exiled to the laundry room, poor baby. Can’t you hear him?”
Indeed, above all the loud voices, distinct howling came periodically from the laundry room, despite the closed door. Relieved, Ryan transferred the little dog to Polly and followed her in the living room.
The people in the room paid no attention to him continuing to speak loudly and even shout at each other. While Polly placed Cleo on the pillow, Ryan took a moment to study them.
A woman in her sixties was sitting on the couch, fanning herself with a fashion magazine. She had red hair, too bright to be a natural color and it clashed with her too tight red dress, a size too small. “Polly, you insensitive girl, it was not enough that you moved in this godforsaken town, but you had to make Olivia move here with you.” She was the mother, Ryan presumed.
He was ready to tear up into her for making Polly feel guilty, but his attention was distracted by the man sitting near her. He was of the same age, thin and with a bald head. He looked down his nose at the room in general and no one in particular. “Olivia should have applied to be a prosecutor. Then her path to be appointed judge would have been straight on. Instead, she took after Polly and moved here.”
“It’s all Polly’s fault. It’s her influence,” the mother proclaimed again resentful.
Shouts on the other side of the room made Ryan turn his head in that direction. Near the bow window, there was a small round table with two armchairs to the left and right. One was occupied by a man trying to look fashionably bohemian, with designer jeans and pink – was that really pink – shirt. His hair was long, combed in such a way to hide the thinning on top. He sported a two days stubble, which was grayish and because of that very unbecoming. If he were into giving advice to others, Ryan could have told him that unless you’re very young, the scruffy beard needed careful grooming and even coloring, otherwise the effect is contrary. Instead of looking fashionable, it made the guy look older than he was, and unkempt.
“You made me drive after you here and now you refuse to come back? I tell you, Olivia, it won’t do. I won’t be treated so shabby, I tell you. You have no right,” the man argued in a shrill voice.
It was one of Olivia’s lover boys, Ryan thought. That’s fine, but why did they have to come wash their dirty laundry and complain here, at Polly’s house?
The other chair was occupied by Olivia herself, who wore again the mask of the icy queen, poker straight with pursed lips. That was, pursed when she was not arguing back. “You should have accepted my decision and remained in Denver, Miles. In fact, I thought you understood that I want nothing to do with you. I told you so when I gave you my ring back. What made you change your mind?”
Aha, this explained what the man wanted. In this case, Olivia was right. If she gave him the ring back, then the fellow should have accepted it and moved on. Why come after her and make a pest of himself?
To Ryan’s surprise, the other person in the room arguing loudly was none other than his young worker, Gideon. He was standing behind Olivia’s chair, with his hand possessively on her shoulder and shouting as loud as the others. “Because if you don’t know to treat a lady, someone needs to teach you and I’m ready to do it. Be a man and meet me outside.”
Oops! Ryan hoped the hothead didn’t intend to brawl with the scruffy lover boy outside Polly’s house. This was a good neighborhood and it was not done. A fistfight was unacceptable. He could take them both to the bar. Occasionally, people settled some differences there with an invigorating exchange of fists. Blame it on too many beers.
His attention turned again to the mother who said, “And you’ll not believe your luck, Polly. Despite your penchant to write grotesque fairy tales, Ernest gave us a good hint that he was willing to court you. With serious intentions, of course.” She beamed at Polly, expecting to get an enthusiastic reaction at this announcement.
Ryan frowned. “Who’s Ernest?” he asked Polly who had returned to stand by his side looking for his support.
“Ernest is their friend, a dentist and he’s sixty if he’s a day. He’s a perennial bachelor,” she explained to him. Then she addressed her mother in a louder voice. “His intentions became serious last year when I came home for Thanksgiving. He asked me point-blank how much I earn for my grotesque tales and he almost swallowed his tongue when I told him.”
“Yes, well, he is a most understanding person. You could do worse. And beggars can’t be choosers. I don’t see a lot of men knocking on your door. At your age, you should be happy with Ernest. And happy to return to Denver as a dentist’s wife.”
“Are you kidding? He’s an old man,” Polly protested.
“Nah, he’s only two years older than your father.” Then, the mother shouted even louder. “Look in what situation Olivia is because of you. She had such a promising career in Denver, and now she’s wasting her beauty and her talent in this town.”
“Both of you should come home,” the judge added his decision in a firm and equally loud voice.
At the same time, in the other corner of the room, the Denver lover decided to be more forceful. “No, I won’t have it,” he said and slapped the round table for good measure.
This was the moment when Maurice emitted a lugubrious howl to protest the incarceration in the laundry room.
Polly started shaking and her eyes filled with tears. Looking at her, Ryan decided he’d had enough and it was time to stop them from abusing her. “Quiet,” he bellowed to be heard by all.
That produced the right effect. The noise stopped and surprised, one by one, they turned to look at him. Even Maurice ceased his howling. The silence was refreshing for a change. Stunned, they looked at him like he’d sprouted two heads. No one moved except Cleo who stepped down from her pillow and came running to him to see why he was angry. He picked her up and rearranged her pink bow.
Finally, the judge was the first to recover from stupor. “Who are you?”
“I’m Ryan Calhoun and this is Cleopatra,” he said.
“What are you doing here?” the mother asked.
“Simple. I’m Polly’s friend. Apparently, the only one who cares that she’s tired after working all day and that she doesn’t need this aggravation, a houseful of people shouting at her and each other without consideration for her.”
The idea that Polly might object to their presence in her house never occurred to them. Ryan could see this on their shocked faces.
“That animal shouldn’t be here in the house,” the mother finally said pointing at Cleo.
“Cleo is very well behaved. Where I go, she goes,” Ryan said, his hold on the white fluffy dog tightening.
“Grrr.” Cleo showed her sharp little teeth.
“The animal is vicious.”
Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Should I go and release Maurice from the laundry room so that you see better how a really aggressive dog can behave?”
“You wouldn’t dare. Polly’s dog is a monster.”
Right on clue, like knowing they were talking about him, Maurice howled loudly. Personally, Ryan agreed with the woman in this issue, not that he was going to admit it. “Like him or not, Maurice is Polly’s dog and this is her house.” The woman opened her mouth to give him a sharp reply, but snapped it shut when Ryan raised his hand. “The hour is late and both Polly and my little Cleo need their beauty sleep. The sooner we clarify the situation, the better for all of us. Why do you both believe that Polly had anything to do with Olivia’s decision to move to Laramie?”
Polly turned to her parents. “Yes, Mama. Why?”
The matron squirmed in her seat, and Ryan took advantage to continue. “It’s unfair to both your daughters, ma’am. Yes, not only to Polly, but you should know that Olivia is an independent, smart woman who makes her own decisions.”
Olivia nodded. “Yes, it’s true. I’m happy that Polly is here, but my main reason for moving was that my friend Taryn Bowman offered me a partnership in her law firm. In Denver, I worked ten-twelve hours a day and I wouldn’t have made partner, not even in ten years. This was a business decision for me and I know it’s the right one. I don’t regret it and certainly I don’t intend to return to Denver. Mom and Dad, I hope you’ll understand and be as supportive as you always were.”
It was a long speech for Olivia, who was usually very short and to the point.