Shelley Freydont - Celebration Bay 03 - Independence Slay Read Online Free PDF Page A

delightful little carriage house behind her landladies’ big Victorian, several blocks from the center of town. Miss Ida and Miss Edna Zimmerman were retired schoolteachers, and they had lived their entire lives in their childhood home. Rumor had it that both their fiancés had died in the war—which war was rather vague—but Liv guessed the Korean one. Neither had ever married.
    They were excellent dog sitters and loved Whiskey to the point of spoiling him. But tonight was their potluck night at the Veteran’s Hall, so Liv knew they would have left Whiskey in the carriage house, fed, pampered, and sleeping off a day of fun.
    Liv was looking forward to a little sleep herself. Right after dinner. And for once the fridge was semi-stocked. Thanks to the 4-H’s July kickoff barbecue, there were leftover spare ribs, potato salad, and rhubarb pie in her fridge, as well as a bottle of crisp, chilled pinot grigio, not from 4-H, but from the local wine store.
    As soon as Liv opened the front door, a white whirlwind shot past her, ran a maniacal circle around her feet, and raced back inside.
    “Good to see you, too,” Liv said, and followed the excited Westie inside.
    Whiskey was sitting by his bowl when Liv entered the kitchen. There was fresh water and a cleanly licked food bowl.
    “Nice try,” Liv said. “I’m going to have to change your name to Roly-Poly if we don’t start getting more exercise.” It was still early, but Liv had no desire to drag on jogging clothes and spend the remaining daylight pounding the pavement.
    She yawned. “You get a reprieve tonight. But Saturday morning—no, Sunday morning, right after church—you and I are going for a run.”
    Whiskey’s ears flipped up to alert. Muzzle down, tail up, and ready for flight.
    Liv laughed. “Not tonight. Tonight I put my feet up.” She reached into the fridge for the platter of ribs.
    • • •
    Miss Ida was out sweeping the sidewalk the next morning when Liv and Whiskey left for work. She was the slighter of the two sisters, with white hair that she kept pulled back in a bun. She had a penchant for twin sets and floral dresses, and today she was wearing a shirtwaist of tiny blue flowers and a lightweight red sweater.
    “Morning, Liv.” Miss Ida slipped her hand into the pocket of the sweater, and Whiskey sat at her feet. “Just a little bit of biscuit,” she told the attentive Westie and handed him a morsel. “Everyone will try to feed him today. And Dolly has the cutest little flag d-o-g b-i-s-c-u-i-t-s,” she told Liv.
    Whiskey stood, barked, and gave Liv a reproachful look.
    Miss Ida laughed. “I’m afraid he may have learned to spell.”
    Great
, Liv thought,
a singing, spelling dog
. What would be next? “Have a nice day, Miss Ida. I’ll see you later.”
    Whiskey pulled on the leash.
    “Heel,” Liv commanded.
    “Arf.” Whiskey started down the street, dragging Liv with him.
    “Edna and I are helping with the DAR float this morning,” Miss Ida called after her. “We’ll pick him up and bring him home with us after l-u-n-c-h. And keep him for the fireworks. All that noise can’t be good for his little ears.”
    “You’re not going to the reenactment and fireworks?” Liv asked, walking backward as Whiskey pulled her toward town.
    “We never do, too many mosquitoes. And we can see well enough from an upstairs window.”
    “Thank you-u-u-u,” Liv called back as Whiskey picked up speed. “Heel,” she commanded again. “Unless you want to go back to obedience school.”
    Whiskey sneezed, shook his head, and slowed down.
    There was already a line out the door to the Apple of My Eye Bakery. Dolly must have been watching for them, because she ran out with a bag of goodies for Liv and Ted and a rectangular American-flag doggie biscuit. It even had the thirteen stars made of some kind of icing, which Liv knew would be healthy. Dolly’s recipes had passed inspection by Sharise over at the Woofery, who now sold Dolly’s