Free Hell Hath No Curry by Tamar Myers

always take the money, because I could never love another dog as much as I do my Shnooky-booky.”
    Thank heavens there weren’t any flies hovering over the tub, because I might have inhaled them. “A thousand dollars for that ?”
    “He has impeccable lines, Mags. Besides, he was third runner-up in Best of Breed last year. His kennel name, by the way, is Volga Mist’s Prince Shnookums.”
    I heard her words, and understood their meaning; I just couldn’t comprehend them. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me, dear. Did you say he has a title?”
    “Think of it as a beauty contest for dogs, but it’s much more than that. You see, they have a breed standard, to which the dogs have to conform—oh, never mind, you’re not going to get it, so why should I even try to explain?”
    “But I am interested. Did you just say Shnookums has a title?
    Should I have been calling him Your Royal Highness?” Sometimes the Devil just has to insert a bit of sarcasm. I try to fight it, I really do.
    “He has lots of show titles, but Prince is just a name I gave him.”
    My nose itched, which is always a signal that I’m about to have a moneymaking thought. “Hmm. If an ugly beast—and I mean that kindly—can make a thousand dollars a pop for doing something he likes to do against my leg for free, how much money could one make with a good-looking dog? You know, like a golden retriever or a lab?”
    For some strange reason, Susannah was miffed. “I take that back, what I said earlier. You’re not losing it; you’ve never had it.”
    62 Tamar
    Myers
    “At the risk of sounding proud, may I remind you that I made straight As in college?”
    “I’m not talking about intelligence. You have guests coming here from all over the world, but you’re still a country bumpkin, and you’re the greediest woman I’ve ever met.”
    I reeled in shock, which is a dangerous thing to do when standing in a soapy bath, especially one with thirty-two powerful jets. “I am most certainly not a country bumpkin!”
    “Yes, you are. I bet you didn’t know there was such a thing as a dog show until just now.”
    “Of course I did; you’ve mentioned them before. I just didn’t know there were bucks to be made in the barking biz.”
    “That’s just like you; all you ever do is think about money!
    And what for? You have oodles, but you never spend it. You’re the cheapest woman in the universe, you know that? You can pinch a penny till it screams.”
    “Not only that, but I once made a nickel beg for mercy.”
    “And that’s the other thing you do that drives me up the wall.”
    “What? Squeeze my dimes so hard I stunt their growth? I always wondered why they’re the smallest coins.”
    “You’re always sarcastic, that’s what. I hate it, I hate, I hate it!” My sister stomped from the room, leaving soggy footprints on my bathroom carpet. I shook my head in shame. When I had the inn restored, after the devastating tornado that flung me face-down into a pile of cow manure, I should have sprung for tile, or at least a good-quality linoleum. Susannah was right; I am cheap.
    But waste not, want not, right? One must save for the proverbial rainy day—or string of rainy days, given how inaccurate weather forecasts generally are. Besides, what Susannah didn’t know is that I’ve saved up a hefty amount of money for her retirement.
    She is never, ever, going to be truly in need. Neither is anyone else I love, including my pseudo-stepdaughter.
    “You can thank me later,” I hollered after her.
    Immediately my words came back to haunt me.
    10

    Lamb Curry

Ingredients
    1 cup yogurt
    5 cardamoms (whole)
    ¼ teaspoon turmeric powder
    2–3 teaspoons ginger-garlic paste
    1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
    3–4 medium tomatoes, finely diced
    1 teaspoon cumin powder
    1–2 tablespoons tomato paste
    1 teaspoon coriander powder
    2–4 green chilies slit down the
    Salt to taste
    middle, but kept intact with stem
    1 pound lamb, cleaned and cubed
    to make it