Today, though, she had a problem with plumbing, and hoped he knew of a local who could help. She pulled the Jeep into the parking lot of the Rest. Tim stepped out of one of the cabins, blinking in the bright sun. As usual, he looked like a garage sale fugitive, rumpled clothes hanging off his bent frame. “Hey, Tim, what’s with the formal attire?” She stepped out of the Jeep. “I’ve got a date at the opera as soon as I finish this job.” Tim walked over, ignored her outstretched hand and hugged her. Frozen for a moment in awkward surprise, she patted his back once and took a step back. “You’ve got a guard dog, I see.” He tipped his chin toward the Jeep. “Not my dog.” Bugs stood, front feet against the dash, drool stretching from his panting lips, watching them through the windscreen. “As soon as he’s presentable, he’s off to the pound.
