“Sure thing. As long as you get me what I need, I’ll give you any weekend you want—except, of course, the West Coast Canine Classic.”

“Agreed.” Eva yanked Ruby’s hand into her own and shook it. The deal thus made, Eva sighed, kicked off her shoes, and yanked out the pen that had been holding up the long, dark waves of her hair.

Ruby couldn’t help feeling wistful at how happy and comfortable Eva looked, like an old pair of jeans that fit just right. It was something she’d always envied about other women. Eva was the sort who would only get better with time, who would let the silver streaks come naturally into her hair and look amazing doing it, whose energy and bright spirits would keep her young well into her retirement years.

Ruby, on the other hand, was the pair of jeans bought for clubbing one night and regretted every day since—low-rise and far too tight, but so expensive that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw them away.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed,” Eva said, smiling at her from across the table. A deep dimple formed in one cheek. “Is this the part where I confess that I would have done it for free?”

Ruby sat up straight in her chair. “You what?”

“In fact, I’m looking downright forward to it. I’m already starting to plot all the ways I can make it happen.” She reached down and fished in her purse until she extracted a dragon-themed coloring book and a twelve-pack of jumbo crayons. Tearing out a page that had been liberally scribbled on, she pushed it across the table at Ruby. “Here. Make a list of those words for me. I want to make sure I remember them all.”

Despite the fact that she’d once again allowed a much wiser, much wilier woman to manipulate her, Ruby plucked a purple crayon from the pack and obeyed.

Her plan was a simple one, planted there by Mrs. Orson herself. Food bribes were obviously a no-go, especially since Wheezy was too smart to fall for a bait-and-switch carrot again. The stage platform had done little more than give the golden retriever a new place to nap, and nothing Caleb did to his voice made Wheezy sit up and listen.

As much as she hated to admit it, the only thing that seemed to work with any regularity was “her” Spencer. It was just as Mrs. Orson had said—there was something commanding about him, something forceful—that neither she nor Wheezy seemed able to deny. The only way Ruby was going to get anywhere was with his help, but she’d have rather died than ask for it.