Page 15 of Pugs & Kisses

E vie sat behind the wheel of her idling SUV, observing the landscapers as they clipped away at the ten-foot-tall Italian cypresses that bracketed either side of the two-story arch leading to her parents’ doorway.

The men were meticulous in their technique, snipping with precision until the tops were perfectly aligned.

It was a perfection her father demanded of everyone who worked for him.

Evie was surprised he wasn’t out here supervising.

The sprawling mansion was her father’s pride and joy.

Located in one of New Orleans’s most exclusive neighborhoods, with a view of the manicured golf course at English Turn Golf & Country Club visible from the backyard, he saw it as the ultimate symbol of how far he’d come from his upbringing in public housing.

She couldn’t complain. It had been a nice house to grow up in, if one didn’t mind living in a museum that was constantly used to host dinner parties and soirees.

She glanced in her rearview mirror at Waffles, who was nestled in his brand-new doggy car seat.

For someone without a job—her part-time gig at Barkingham Palace was not sufficient employment—she was having way too much fun spending money at the pet boutique.

She’d told herself only necessities, but that was two sweaters and three bow ties ago.

It wasn’t as if she would go hungry. She had money in the bank. And as much as she silently judged her parents’ extravagant lifestyle, Evie knew they were her safety net. They would give her whatever she asked for if the need ever arose.

It won’t get to that point.

“Okay, Waffles,” Evie said. “I will need you to be on your absolute best behavior. No loud barking. No scratching any furniture. And, by all means, do not have an accident on the floor. You will not be allowed back in the house.”

Her mother would likely have a conniption the moment Evie walked through the door with her dog, but she would have to get over it. Evie and Waffles were a package deal.

“You ready?” she asked.

Waffles remained silent.

“Yeah, me neither,” Evie said.

She could think of a million other places she’d rather be right now instead of in her parents’ driveway.

For the briefest moment, Evie had considered letting her mother’s call go to voicemail, but trying to avoid her was the most impractical exercise in futility.

Dr. Constance Williams always got her way in the end.

Her phone rang. She answered through the SUV’s Bluetooth.

“Are you going to spend the evening staring at the house from your car, Evelina?” her mother asked before Evie had the chance to even say hello.

“I—A song I hadn’t heard in a while was playing on the radio,” Evie said. She rolled her eyes. Five seconds into a conversation with Constance and she was already coming up with unnecessary lies. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I’m in my office. The temporary code for the front door is four-eight-two-five,” her mother said before disconnecting the call.

Evie cut off the engine.

“Okay, Waffles, no more hiding in the car.” She got out and went to the back seat, unclipping her dog’s harness from the car seat and hooking it onto the leash before lifting him out and setting him on the ground.

“You’ll probably have to spend the visit in the sunroom, but it’s enclosed and air-conditioned. ”

Waffles barked.

“You’ll like it. I promise.”

Evie looked from her dog, who stared at her with the goofiest expression—my goodness, but she loved him so much already—to the house.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. Give me ten minutes with Constance, and I’ll take you to get a pup cup on the way home.”

Another bark.

“Deal,” Evie said, then started up the walkway toward the front door. The landscapers paused and nodded as she approached.

“Good evening,” Evie said. “It looks great out here.”

Both men beamed in a way that told Evie it was the first time they’d received praise for their work in a long time. That tracked. Her father felt that a paycheck was the only praise a person deserved.

She punched the temporary code into the keypad. Her parents were not the type to give unfettered access to their home, even to their grown children. Although Evie wouldn’t be surprised if her brother, Marshall, had weaseled the permanent code out of their father.

She entered the house and was instantly hit with the scent of lemon verbena.

It had been her mother’s favorite for as long as Evie could remember.

Based on the sheen that covered the marble floors and the fresh flowers in the vase that sat in the center of the entryway table, the cleaners had come through earlier today.

Evie grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen, noting there was only one place setting at the smaller table in the informal dining room where her parents normally took their meals. Guess Dad had to fend for himself tonight. Not that it surprised her.

She walked back across the foyer and formal dining room to her mother’s office.

Constance Williams, MD, sat behind her desk wearing the reading glasses she hated to admit she needed.

At sixty-five, she was still incredibly active, working full-time as the head of cardiology for the largest hospital system in South Louisiana.

She served on the board of directors of several local nonprofits, and as Evie learned just last month, spent what little downtime she had kicking ass and taking names as the top pickleball player at the country club she and her father belonged to—which, ironically, wasn’t the one in their backyard.

Evie wasn’t surprised that her mother excelled at her newest hobby.

As the first Black woman to run a cardiology department in the region, Dr. Williams had a long-standing reputation for kicking ass and taking names.

As much as they butted heads, Evie had always been intensely proud of her mother’s accomplishments.

Now, if only her mother could reciprocate that pride when it came to Evie’s career accomplishments, maybe then their relationship could resemble that of a normal mother and daughter.

Stop asking for the impossible.

Constance tolerated her daughter’s career choice, but she would never forgive Evie for not following in her footsteps.

Her mother had two laptops open, her head volleying back and forth between the screens as if she were watching a tennis match.

“You know, if you get one with a bigger screen, you can have two windows open on the same computer,” Evie offered.

“I don’t want a bigger computer,” her mother answered.

She took the glasses off and placed them on the desk. Once she finally focused on Evie, the tiny lines in her forehead deepened with her frown.

“You’re not in scrubs. I thought your practice didn’t close until six. How did you have time to change clothes?”

Seriously? That’s the first thing she noticed?

“It’s good to see you too, Mother,” Evie said.

“It’s good to—Evelina, what is that?” Constance pointed at Waffles.

“Took you long enough to notice your new grandpup,” Evie said. “Constance, meet Waffles. Waffles, say hello to your grandmother, Dr. Williams, but you can call her Grandma Connie.”

“Really, Evelina? A dog?”

“I’m a veterinarian. Why are you surprised that I have a dog?”

“Because you’ve been a veterinarian for years and this is the first dog you’ve had since that scraggly little thing you left here when you went to college.”

“I’m sure Sparks would be touched that you remember her as that scraggly little thing,” Evie said.

Constance pointed. “You know how I feel about dogs in the house. Take him to the sunporch.”

“Told you your grandma would send you to the porch,” Evie said as she tugged Waffles’s leash.

“And stop referring to me as that dog’s grandma,” her mother called.

It was probably best that she comply. The last thing she wanted to do was trigger the “All our friends are becoming grandparents, when will we get our turn?” discussion again. Funny how Marshall was the oldest, but he was never accosted with that question.

Of course, if her mother did bring up the idea of grandchildren, it would be the perfect way to break the news of her split with Cameron.

Evie batted the thought away. She wouldn’t be able to keep the news from her family forever, but the idea of telling her mother about the breakup, quitting the practice, and all the other drama of the past few days made her head hurt.

“Okay, Waffles, give me ten minutes,” Evie said after getting him settled on the sunporch. “And don’t pee on the rug.”

She returned to her mother’s office to find her back at the computer.

“One minute,” Constance said before Evie could speak.

She spent another five seconds typing into the computer, then swiveled in the chair and folded her hands atop the desk.

“I would like you to come over to the house this coming weekend. The event planner, Tami, will be here to present her vision for the anniversary party, and I would like your input.”

This again.

Her parents could barely stomach eating nightly meals together, yet her mother insisted on throwing this elaborate party to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary.

“I’ll have to look at my schedule,” Evie said. Her mother’s right brow arched. Evie suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “But I’m sure I can be here,” she said.

Make no mistake about it, Constance Williams always got her way in the end.

“I am not asking you to visit a torture chamber, Evelina.”

“You sure about that?” Evie said.

Her mother gave her that same look she had been giving her since she turned thirteen. She should have learned by now to whisper the backhanded comments under her breath, but no.

“You did not make me suffer through bridge traffic just to tell me that you want me to be here when the decorator comes over, did you?” Evie asked.