Glancing at the see-through canister, she shook her head. It was almost a quarter full, even though she’d emptied it before she’d started. How two dogs could generate so much hair was beyond her. She vacuumed briskly, trying to shake off her hangover funk from last night, but so far it wasn’t working. As she pushed the hose back in its holder and ran rows across the wood floors in the living room, she kept rerunning the movie in her head. Ceecee prattled about the Suttons and couples giving up too soon on marriages. Was she a well-meaning but clueless ditherer or the queen of passive-aggressive behavior? If she were the latter, Linny would have to deal with that quicksand for the rest of her life. Linny edged the vacuum into a corner she’d missed. Then there was the wall shrine to Vera and Jack, the engagement news that never got shared, and the conversation on the ride home. Linny wheeled the Hoover into her small bedroom and it sucked up the cluster of fur dust bunnies that circled up around the dogs’ crates.
