Alvarado Gold by Victoria Pitts-Caine

like an anchor helped me lose my footing more than once when she was glad to see me. Another trait of hers, a bird dog point came in useful when the jays landed on the patio. So “who knows” correctly described her.
    Mollie jumped into the shotgun seat, her usual place. We were off to the post office to retrieve my boxes. I went through the drive-up at a fast-food place on the way and Mollie and I ate a combo meal. She gobbled the burger. I ate the fries and drank the cola. The post office wasn’t busy but I didn’t want to leave Mollie in the car. I took her as far as the door and tied her leash around a post. I could see her from the counter and knew she wanted to keep an eye on me, too. I loaded the boxes in the back seat; they looked like so much more than I’d originally sent. I had my work cut out for me.
    When we turned the corner to the condo, Mollie started barking. Guilt crept into the corners of my mind, knowing she wasn’t going to be too happy with me come September when I had to leave her again.
    It felt good to be back. I turned the key in the front door lock and looked around. The condo was just as I’d left it. No cleaning fairies had visited and my little jungle of houseplants, left in the kitchen sink in their own life giving pool of tap water, had survived. A miracle considering my less than green thumb. Glancing over at the blinking light on my answering machine, I groaned to Mollie, “Twenty messages.” She looked up, but her only care was her empty food dish. I scratched her shaggy head and dutifully filled the empty bowl with dry dog food. “We’ll have something better later,” I promised.
    I lugged in my suitcase, the three large boxes from the post office and my leftover fries. Exhausted, I’d put up all my junk tomorrow. Grabbing a pencil, I listened to my messages. Most of the phone numbers were easily recognizable including Eric, Mel, Eric, and the VP from Docurestore. I wondered what my old boss wanted but punched on through all the phone numbers–only interested, for now, in the ones I couldn’t automatically identify. There were five numbers I didn’t know, all trying to sell me something which I deleted. Then the last number, a call that morning was from a Houston prefix. Almost ignoring it and figuring Mr. Darrow wanted something, I finally decided to listen. To my chagrin, I was not totally displeased to hear Gary Wright’s deep, baritone voice come from the speaker. “Call me. I’ve some interesting information for you. Oh…thanks for my church list.” What could he possibly want now? Why did he have that list of churches and why…why did he bother me so?

Chapter Eight
    I awakened the next morning to Mollie’s gentle nudge. She sat quietly by the bed either wanting to go out or have her breakfast dish filled. “Mollie, let me sleep.” Then, remembering the phone message, I rolled over to look at the clock, eight a.m. “What time is it in Houston?” Why was that the first thought to cross my mind? Talking to a dog had its advantages. They didn’t answer back or give an opinion. If Mollie thought like a human, she probably would think I’d lost my mind.
    I slid my feet to the floor and stumbled into the kitchen, started coffee and took Mollie outside. Sitting on my matchbook-sized patio, I tried to mentally organize my day. First, I’ll do the unpacking, then I’ll go through the boxes. But the stupid, little voice in my head kept interrupting. Call him .
    Going back inside, I dragged my suitcase into the laundry room. I’ll just wash from here. No use in unpacking it to stuff it into the laundry basket.
    I went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and decided my next move would be to tackle the boxes stacked in the dining room. I slit the tape and moved a stack of papers to the table. I spotted my grandparents’ old Bible and withdrew it from the box. It had been wrapped in acid-free paper from a local art store in Houston. I’d planned to box it up and