she growled as she stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing away the last of the day’s grime from her hands. For someone who took as much care in her appearance as she did, she didn’t seem to worry too much about her fingernails, only that they were clean. She kept them clipped short and didn’t bother with polish.“I know,” I said. I was leaning up against the counter, Dutchie at my feet. It wasn’t quite suppertime yet, and the dog knew better than to beg, but she kept looking up at me wistfully, hoping I’d relent and get dinner for her a few minutes early.After she plucked a dishtowel from where it was hanging on the handle of the refrigerator door, Evony dried off her hands, then tossed the towel on the countertop. By then, I’d given up protesting every time she did that. Instead, I picked up the dishtowel and put it back where she’d gotten it. At another time, she might have smiled at my anal-retentive behavior. Right then, though, she was scowling, and didn’t even seem to notice.“So,”
