Jane and Austen by Stephanie Fowers

box.
    I cradled the puppy against my neck and kissed her grape of a head while I skirted around the palm trees and fountains in the courtyard. Unhindered by bags, I made faster time on my way back. Reaching the back door to the lobby in the main building, I spied Austen still at his post at the checkout counter. He had resorted to taking out his laptop and working irritably on his bookkeeping. No wickedness in his smile, no concerned looks; and when I entered the room, he showed no undue interest in me at all.
    I refused to feel bad. Nothing had been ruined between us because nothing existed there, except for the fact that we liked to get on each other’s nerves. That meant that I was ahead of the game today.
    I handed him the puppy and went back to the last of the luggage.
    “Jane!” he said. “A teddy bear? Really?”
    “She needs to take a potty break.” I picked up the bags that belonged to Gorgeous or Beauty or whatever her name happened to mean and threw the one with a strap over my shoulder.
    “I can’t believe it!”
    Ann-Marie’s voice made me jump. I had been so distracted with Austen that I hadn’t noticed that she had come back to torment him. She had taken her usual spot on the sofa near the TV. “Do you know who John Willoughby is?” She whipped around to pierce us both with a look.
    I wasn’t sure who she was talking to, but Austen got rid of the suspense and shook his head. “No idea.”
    “Well, he’s dead! He got shot ten times. They think it’s a murder-suicide and he was trying to break up with his girlfriend. She shot him over and over and then killed herself.”
    “Hmm, and that is why I stay clear of relationships.” Austen peered over the dog’s head at the books of accounts. “But you never know. Maybe he shot himself ten times and then killed her.”
     Ann-Marie stumbled to her feet and dashed over to the desk. “How could he do that? That’s impossible.”
    “Stranger things have happened.”
    “What sort of world do you live in?” Ann-Marie was practically shouting at him now. “He couldn’t even do that!”
     I felt my lips twitch up, but then forced them back down. Austen’s completely inappropriate jokes weren’t funny. Ann-Marie caught sight of the wriggling animal in Austen’s hands. “Puppy!”
    She quickly divested him of the wriggling creature and gave it more loving than it could possibly want. “You cute little thing. Is this yours, Austen? Hot man with puppy—that only makes you ten times hotter, you know. I always wanted a puppy.”
    “Look.” I held my hands up to stop the volley of words. “Whoever takes the puppy, just make sure that she flushes after she uses the facilities outside. Then you can return her to the witch in the Southerton Bungalow for processing.”
    Austen laughed. “What are the witch’s plans for the little doggy? The glue factory or a witch’s brew?”
    “I . . . I . . .” He was already joking with me. I wasn’t sure what I thought about that. “I think the lady just wants to weigh down her purse with it,” I said.
    “Too bad,” Austen said. “Poopsy would make a perfect little hot doggy.”
     “Oh no!” Ann-Marie snuggled the puppy closer. “Don’t you listen to those horrid people. You stay with me and I’ll keep you safe.” The puppy licked her nose. She took the little rat-bear outside, continuing to talk as if the puppy might answer her back. The TV blared behind Ann-Marie, forgotten. A headline ran across the news station, reporting that a certain Will Dancey had taken a break from his music tour and was rumored to be heading to California.
    That’s when I remembered that he had nowhere to stay.
    I turned off the TV and whirled to face Austen. “You can’t stay in the Wood House. There’s another guest staying there.”
    “The Wood House?” he asked. “You realize there are rats staying there too, and spiders and sand? Not to mention me. Sorry, it’s taken.”
    “Now, wait a second. Freddy was