“Yes, I am. The majority of pet owners talk to their pets. Did I tell you that I’m freelancing for Paws to Reflect, a newsletter for canine companions?” I had a degree in creative writing from a Fancy University (F.U.), but I hadn’t been able to sell any of my fiction.

“You have the oddest ways of amusing yourself,” Gigi said, “but the garden looks gorgeous. I love the urns.”

The magnificent terra-cotta urns contained hundreds of deep purple and lemon yellow tulips, pansies, and freesias. “Thanks. I layered the bulbs, so you’ll get a long succession of bloom.”

“Wonderful!” She held the silver package toward me and said, “Would you give this to Lord Ian? I finally had the chance to have the mug shot framed from my arrest at our scavenger hunt last summer.”

Gigi ran in the same circles as my boyfriend/lover/whatever, Ian Ducharme, who had one of those suspect European titles. Of course, I thought all titles were suspect unless they were on the covers of books.

I pulled off my grimy goatskin gloves and took the package. “I’m sure you look stunning.”

She laughed. “I’ve learned a thing or two about getting a good mug shot over the years. The trick is to soften the lights with a scarf and have the photographer work with you. A girl like you shouldn’t have any problem doing that. Just flash a little tit … or, in your case, a lot.”

“Thanks for the tip, but I’m not planning on getting arrested anytime soon.”

“That’s what’s fun about arrests, so spontaneous!” she said. “Oh, and tell Lord Ian that I’m taking his advice and looking into a summer house in Lviv.”

“Where’s Lviv?”

“Oh, it’s the new Warsaw, Milagro. Everyone knows that.”

“I’ll pass along the message. See you soon, Gigi.”

“Ciao, sweetie,” she said, and returned to her house.

I finished sweeping, put away the broom, and then my dog and I got in the truck. I started the engine, cranked up the music, and considered my options. I hadn’t planned on driving to see Ian, but the heat of the day had made me amorous, and I knew he was returning from one of his mysterious trips.

I’d never been able to stay away from him even when I was engaged to Oswald Grant, a much more admirable man, a good man, a principled man.

I joined in the traffic speeding out of the City and across the bridge, enjoying the sight of the rich orange cables and spires contrasting against the glimmering silver-green water and the azure sky.