Free Must Love Dogs by Claire Cook, Carrington Macduffie

of pink feathers. The amazing thing was that I don’t think Dolly would have even noticed if the kids hadn’t started laughing and pointing.”
    We laughed, remembering Dolly’s face. “So, Michael,” Carol asked. “How come Phoebe didn’t come tonight?”
    Michael shrugged. “She stayed home to read a book. I don’t think she cares much about getting in good with my family these days. She says we tell too many old stories and that it always makes her feel left out.”
    “Kevin used to say that too,” I said. Carol gave me a dirty look. “I mean, not that that means anything,” I added quickly. We all knew that Michael’s marriage was in trouble, but while it was all right to whisper about it behind his back, it was not something we talked about openly. I wondered if all families behaved this way. I tried not to think about what they hadn’t said in front of me about Kevin.
    Dad pushed the kitchen door until it swung open just enough for his head to fit through the opening. He looked at Mother Teresa sternly. “You, my four-footed friend, are in deep shit.” He held out a plastic bag, a flash of pink poking out of the top. Mother Teresa was on her feet in an instant. Michael grabbed her by the collar. “Michael, I’d be the happiest man alive if you could find a way to replace this with one of the original length.”
    Michael reached for the bag. “Okay, Dad. I’m really sorry. She’s just a puppy.” Mother Teresa made a lunge. I moved faster and whisked the bag to safety.
    As usual, Carol had an idea. “Perfect, Sarah. You can shop for a new boa for Dolly. Take the old one with you so you get a good match, then throw it out afterward. I’ll give you a list of stores to try. Maybe pick up some nice underwear for yourself while you’re at it. Just in case.”
    My father nodded as if he thought it was a perfectly reasonable idea, but of course he was dating a woman who wore a pink feather boa to Sunday dinner. We heard a distinct crash. “Those good-looking grandchildren of mine out there might need a little supervision. I’m going to run Dolly home.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Don’t wait up.”
    We talked until the Miata was long gone, then turned out some of the lights and locked the door. We packed the kids and Mother Teresa into their respective cars to drive off to our other homes. I was about to head out, alone, when Michael walked over to my car. I rolled down my window. “Hey,” I said. “You okay?”
    Michael rubbed an index finger back and forth under one of his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine, just checking up on you. You need anything?”
    “No, I’m all right. But thanks.”
    “Are you, um, getting out or anything?” Even in the dark, he looked embarrassed. I probably did, too. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”
    “No, it’s not that. There’s just not much to talk about.” Behind us in Michael’s car, Annie or Lainie started to flash the high beams off and on. Mother Teresa barked.
    “Well, maybe you should push yourself a little.” He waved at the kids, who responded by flashing the lights faster. It felt a little like being in a disco. “I know it’s gotta be tough, but, Sarah, you have a chance to make a whole new life, you know? You just have to get out there and meet someone.”
    “Oh, yeah, right. Who would want me?”
    “Come on, Sarah. Lots of guys would want to go out with you. You’re smart, you’re funny. You’re even kinda pretty when you’re not wallowing in self-pity.”
    My whole life, my brothers had teased me, making fun of my outfits, pointing out my pimples, belittling my boyfriends. Michael being this nice to me made me want to cry. “Okay, Michael,” I said, not daring to look in his eyes. “I’ll try.”
    *
    I stripped down to my underwear, a graying cotton sports bra and nylon panties that had seen better days. Rifling through the mess on my closet floor, I found the open-toed silver Italian mules I’d bought