Nary a word passes between Finan and me on our short jaunt to town hall.
“Whatever the maintenance crew is making, double it,” I say as we walk past the washroom, now scrubbed sparkling clean, no lingering evidence of the malfeasance I cast upon that poor toilet last night. I stop in my office to grab a pad to write on and am greeted by Humboldt whining and jumping to greet me. “Hey, buddy … sorry I abandoned you last night.”
Catrina’s head pops through my office doorway. “He spent the night with Auntie Cat, didn’t you?” He wags his tail.
“Thank you. I don’t even know where to begin—”
“Don’t exert yourself. You still look like hell. Well, except for the shoes.” She smiles softly.
I twist my leg and present the gorgeous YSL Blade slingback pumps in patent leather. I may look like a wal
