The Luck of the Paw (An Alpine Grove Romantic Comedy Book 9) Page 2

  Thinking about money all the time was so boring. She’d been over these arguments a thousand times in her head and written countless entries in her journal about her struggles with money.

  Tomorrow, she’d ask for a raise. For sure this time.

  The next morning, Mia awoke to the sound of Gizmo’s sharp barking. She sat bolt upright and covered her ears. “Gizmo, stop that!”

  The dog was running back and forth down the narrow length of the trailer barking like crazy. Mia crawled out of bed and looked out the window. She grabbed Gizmo’s collar, “Sit! What is going on with you?”

  The dog’s goofy ears drooped and he looked suitably chastised. Mia stroked his head. “It’s a little early, but I guess we can go out for your walk. Just be quiet for a minute while I get dressed. I’m sure Mrs. Grafton heard your little outburst and she’ll probably file another complaint. Please don’t get us thrown out of here.”

  Gizmo wagged happily and wandered around Mia as she donned jeans and a t-shirt. She clipped the leash onto his collar. “Okay, let’s go.”

  She opened the door and almost tripped on a newspaper. Gizmo tried to snatch it from her hand as she picked it up and she threw it inside the trailer before shutting the door behind her. “Sorry, Giz, no more paper for you. It’s not food and I can’t afford any more of your adventures in creative consumption.”

  The stroll through the neighborhood was peaceful. No one was up yet and everything was quiet and still. It was Mia’s favorite time of day. From here, it was all downhill toward another dull stint at work. But she was still determined to ask for that raise. Today was the day. She was not going to chicken out this time.

  They returned to the trailer, Mia fed Gizmo, and she settled in with a bowl of store-brand Cheerios. The newspaper wasn’t hers, but whoever was supposed to get it undoubtedly wasn’t awake yet, so they probably wouldn’t mind if she read it while she had her breakfast. She’d fold it back up nice and tidy and give it to the manager on her way to work. No one would be the wiser and she’d get to relax for a few minutes.

  The thin newspaper was filled with local agricultural happenings and a few snippets of state and national stories culled from the newswires. Carrot prices were down and farmers were cranky. That was probably bad news for Round House Distributing too. What if she got laid off? That would be ironic. Go in to ask for a raise and get fired. Mia held her spoon aloft for a moment and sighed. Even her luck wasn’t that bad, was it?

  She scanned through the horoscopes. According to her horoscope, she should spend her money in a non-frivolous way and put her plans for the future on hold. What money? What plans? Dog food for Gizmo wasn’t exactly frivolous.

  She took another spoonful of cereal and glanced at the crossword. Below it were the lottery numbers for Fantasy 5. For the first time in her life, she had tickets, so she may as well check them against the numbers. Didn’t one of the tickets have a ten on it? Mia moved to reach for the pile of postcards that she’d set aside the night before.

  Pulling the envelope out of the stack, she went through the lottery tickets, comparing them to the numbers in the newspaper. Three of them weren’t even close, but then she paused. Both the ticket and the paper said “11 24 30 09 10.” Mia put her hand up to her face, covering her mouth.

  She’d won. She actually won the lottery.

  Leaping from the chair, she put the lottery ticket on a shelf in a cabinet as far away from Gizmo as possible. The dog jumped up around her, ready for action and the possibility of another walk. Mia put her hand on her chest. If she hyperventilated and passed out, she’d never get the prize money. “Gizmo, I think you’re about to get the biggest bag of expensive dog food ever!”

  Mia’s hands were shaking as she changed her clothes and got ready for work. This was unbelievable. How did you go about claiming the money from a lottery ticket? She reached up, grabbed the ticket, and read the back. It said she should sign the ticket and call an 800 number. Lenore was going to have to get over it, but this was one personal call that Mia was going to make on company time.

  She carefully put the ticket into her pocket and hugged Gizmo goodbye. “Be good Giz. I’ve hidden the garbage way, way up high. So take a nap, okay? I’ll see you at lunchtime.”

  Mia got into Dottie and mustered the old Datsun up to speed, so she actually arrived at work early. Her heart was racing and she kept touching her pocket to see if the lottery ticket was still there. What if she lost it?

  At her desk, she dialed the number on the back of the ticket and spoke to a woman with a cheerful voice who said that the fastest way to claim the money was to visit one of the lottery offices that were located throughout the state. After getting directions to the closest one, Mia walked to Lenore’s office and tapped on the door jamb.

  Lenore looked up from her pile of papers and took off her reading glasses. “Yes, Mia. What can I do for you?”

  “I need to take a personal day to drive to Fresca—I mean Fresno.” Mia tried not to let her voice quaver. Why did she always screw up words when it was important?

  “What on earth do you need to go there for? Are you in some type of trouble? You’re already behind on your hours.”

  “I’m not in trouble, but I’d rather not say. It’s personal—and it’s just one day.”

  “I suppose. But you need to find someone to cover for you, and today you must be sure to make up the hours you missed yesterday. We are behind.”

  “All right. I’ll do that. Thank you. Have a day!” Mia moved to leave and stopped when she realized what she’d said. “I mean have a good day.”

  Lenore scowled and put her glasses back on. Mia put her hand in her pocket to touch the ticket again. She didn’t know how much she’d won, but winning the lottery might mean she could leave this place forever. No more data entry. She could sell her horrible car. Maybe the trip to Fresno would be the last time she’d have to spend half the journey coaxing Dottie up to freeway speed. What an amazing notion. Maybe she could get a car that could handle long trips. She could travel! Go anywhere and do anything. How long did it take to get lottery money? Hard-core gamblers probably knew these details, but Mia had no idea.

  For Mia, the rest of the day passed in a daze. She got caught up on work and spent a lot of time calling around the office trying to convince one of her colleagues to cover her shift the next day. Describing her trip as an “emergency” was probably a bit of a stretch, but it would be worth it.

  At last, after a considerable amount of begging, she finally was able to cajole Tony into taking on her data entry with the promise that she’d pay him back by working for him the next time he had a hot date. Tony thought of himself as an exceptional Lothario, and he warned her that payback would be soon. He had his eye on a woman down in purchasing and firmly believed there was no possible way she could resist his charms.

  With any luck, Mia would no longer be working at Round House Distributing by the time that poor woman agreed to subject herself to a date with Tony. By then, Mia would be long gone. She’d be somewhere. Anywhere other than here.

  While she was typing in data about carrot prices, purchases, and locations, Mia let her thoughts wander. What would it be like to leave this place? How would that feel? Walking into Lenore’s office and saying, “I quit. You can take this job and shove it.” Just like the song. A little smile crossed her face as she imagined Lenore’s confused expression. What a magical moment that would be.

  The trip to the lottery office was long and dusty as Mia drove across miles upon miles of flat, dull farmland. After the first half hour, even Gizmo was bored. Dottie didn’t move with great speed and the people in the other cars on the highway noticed. A few people felt compelled to emphasize their irritation at the B210’s slow pace with elaborate hand gestures. Mia stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the automotive animosity that surrounded her.

  Finally, she made it to the lottery office and parked in an underground parking garage. After admonishing Gizmo to be good and suggesti
ng he enjoy a nap in the shade, she went inside to discuss her new-found wealth. By the time she returned to the car, she was so overwhelmed, she needed some time to collect her thoughts. She got into the car and sat staring straight ahead, silently processing the information. Gizmo leaped around in the backseat, and finally she turned and smiled at him. “Guess what, Giz? We’re rich!”

  Mia had known that matching all five numbers would be a good thing, but not that good. Signing the forms almost seemed like a dream, with the clerk’s voice acting as the soundtrack while she collected the signed paperwork and explained how Mia would receive her winnings. The money would take a month to process, so the woman suggested that Mia not quit her job immediately. Mia was disappointed, but it made sense. Making all those lovely quitting fantasies come true would have to wait.

  The clerk had given Mia a brochure with frequently asked questions for winners. In the car, she took a few minutes to read it over while Gizmo looked over her shoulder. Because her name was part of public record as a winner, it would be newsworthy, so she should expect some publicity. It also pointed out that she might want to get a financial advisor and included repeated warnings that winners not make any quick, rash decisions or put too much trust in others.

  Mia put the flyer aside and turned the key in the ignition to start Dottie. There was a lot to think about. Reading between the lines, it sounded like winning the lottery was not going to bring out the best in other people. But any negatives were outweighed by the thrill of quitting her job. Mia could do whatever she wanted. The idea was utterly mind-blowing.

  No more living in the Edgewood Paradise Estates. For the first time in her adult life, it would be financially feasible for Mia to consider leaving the area entirely. At last, after years of being trapped in her hometown, she could finally get out. Where should she go? Maybe she could travel and look for a new home. Somewhere far, far away from where she’d grown up. Someplace with trees and mountains. No more flat farmland for her. And no more carrots.

  Never again having to hear about the tedious rivalry between her high school football team and the team at the school in the next town over made Mia a little giddy. The constant rah-rah school spirit was vomit-inducing, since high school had been a miserable time for Mia. Being a quiet, socially bizarre freak meant she’d spent a lot of time alone.

  At the time, she’d hated almost every aspect of her life—her family, herself, and the horrid town she lived in. She’d dyed her hair jet black, which, combined with her entirely black wardrobe and raccoon-esque eyeliner, made her look like she was the carrier of a terminal disease or the guest of honor at a funeral.

  In retrospect, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that virtually everyone had avoided Mia. It was better that way. Because of all the stress, anger, and general malaise of high school, that was when she’d started having the problem of saying the wrong words when she was nervous.

  Mia had always been soft-spoken, and when she had to do an oral report, hecklers would shout from the back of the classroom that they couldn’t hear her. During her freshman year, one evening at dinner, her mother asked about her day and Mia had complained about her dislike of speaking in front of other people.

  Howard, her mother’s husband—Mia couldn’t bear to ever call him stepfather—had constantly teased her about her appearance and told her she was too wimpy. Then one night she’d asked him to pass the box of Ritz crappers, instead of crackers, and after that his torment became incessant. For the next three years, every single time she got near him, he made some joke about those tasty crappers. He just couldn’t let it go.

  Then one fateful day in biology class, it happened again. Mia got so flustered when the teacher asked her a question about a one-celled organism that Mia had blurted out that “bacteria are one-celled orgasms without nuclei.” The whole class roared with laughter to the point that she’d wanted to crawl under the desk and die.

  In English class, she’d had to do an oral book report and she’d referred to it as a boob report about The Great Goatsby. Goatsby? Every time she thought about it, she relived the mortification. Where had goats and boobs come from? It was like her brain had a complete meltdown.

  Mia became so terrified that she’d transpose or misuse words, the problem kept getting worse. It felt like almost every time she opened her mouth, something strange came out. She hid in empty classrooms at lunchtime, so she wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of having no one to sit with.

  Once she finally graduated, the embarrassing verbal incidents declined a bit, probably because she avoided people as much as possible. Being away from Howard’s sarcastic, nasty sense of humor helped too. But her lack of oratory skills meant her forays into gainful employment were often short-lived. It had taken only two days to discover she had no future in the food-service industry. Her stint at the Dairy Queen was cut short when she said “Here’s your Diet Cock” to a customer.

  Working at a call center hadn’t worked out much better. Her supervisor had received complaints after Mia said, “How can I hate you?” to a number of people attempting to order new telephone services.

  Fortunately, Windiberg had lots of manufacturing jobs, which involved less human contact. For several years, Mia had worked in a factory, standing for hours at a heat-sealing machine. The company distributed all kinds of store-brand nuts and candy. It was the yucky generic stuff that hung on racks in plastic bags at the grocery store. She’d learned that the fake, no-name M&Ms were nowhere near as good as the real brand-name chocolate, but someone had to put those cheap knock-offs into the bag and seal the top. That person was her.

  Sometimes Mia still dreamed about working there. She could feel the pedal under her foot, the thump of the candy falling into the bag, and then the hissing noise the sealer made as it affixed the label onto the top of the plastic baggie. The smells of burning sugar and nut oils filled the warehouse, because sometimes a worker missed and caught some food in the heat sealer. Even now, the scent of melted licorice gave her a raging migraine.

  The job at Round House Distributing had been a step in the right direction. At least she got to sit down. And except for when people burned popcorn in the microwave, the building generally smelled better than a factory. Given her skills, or lack of them, the data entry job was really the best she’d been able to do. For a long time, she believed she’d be able to get ahead a little financially and take some college classes, but it had never happened. Life was expensive.

  Mia shook her head and put down the brochure next to her in the passenger seat. Money wasn’t going to be a problem anymore. And that was nothing short of a miracle. Over the years, she’d tried to remain grateful for her job and not complain too much because things could have been a lot worse.

  Even when things were bad, she’d always had enough to eat and a roof over her head. The Windiberg library also provided countless hours of joy for her. Books were free and she’d read her way through almost every section of the library. Novels, health, finance, psychology, and anything else that happened to catch her eye. It cost nothing, and after a few unfortunate book-shredding incidents, she’d set aside a special cabinet just to store her books away from Gizmo’s teeth.

  Going forward, everything would be different. In the last twenty-four hours, Mia’s future had changed completely. She had no idea what might be next, but it would certainly be different from what she’d experienced so far.

  Mia turned and looked at Gizmo, who was sitting expectantly in the backseat. “Here’s to bold new adventures, Giz! Let’s go home.”

  Mia had a lot of time to think on the drive back home from Fresno. The prospect of leaving everything she’d ever known was both exhilarating and terrifying. She had a month to get everything in order before she hit the road to discover her new life.

  She ticked off items on a mental to-do list. She needed to give notice on the Airstream and sell her things, but because the Airstream mostly had built-in furniture, there wasn’t much. The few photographs and memento
s she wanted to keep could fit in a car. Selling her junky housewares and knickknacks might give her enough cash to buy food and make one of her veterinary payments. She also could go to the doctor, get her eyes checked, and see the dentist. It had been a long time since she’d visited any medical establishment, and the bills for those visits wouldn’t arrive until after she had the lottery money. Once she had the money safely tucked away in her bank account, she could pay off the rest of Gizmo’s vet bill, sell Dottie, and get a new car.

  The next few days at work were strange. It was distracting to have a huge secret that she couldn’t tell anyone. All she could think about was the fact that she’d actually won. It didn’t seem real. Then one evening after work, there was a knock on the door. Mia peeked out the window. It was Mrs. Grafton, who never dropped by her trailer with good news. Usually, she was on a mission to complain about Gizmo.

  Mia grabbed Gizmo’s collar and opened the door.

  Mrs. Grafton stood at the bottom of the stairs with an uncharacteristic sappy smile on her face. “Oh Mia! How is my favorite neighbor?”

  “I’m, uh, fine. Is something wrong?”

  “No, not at all! I just wanted to stop by and bring you these blueberry muffins I made.” She held out a plastic container. “I thought you might like them. I brought a couple of dog biscuits for your sweet little dog too.”

  Mia pulled Gizmo back and gestured toward the trailer. “Thank you. There’s not much room, but please come in.” What was going on? Mrs. Grafton disliked her and absolutely hated Gizmo. The last time they’d spoken, she’d referred to Mia as a “trashy slut” and Gizmo as a “mangy cur.”

  “Thank you, dear. I’ll just put them on the counter.” She set down the muffins. “Do you have a second?”