Aunt Maddies’s Doggone Misadventures

Aunt Maddies’s Doggone Misadventures

Genie Gabriel

Chasing Rainbows

Book One

St. Batzy & the Time Machine

Book Two

No More Poodle Skirts

Book Three

Published by Rogue Phoenix Press for Smashwords

Copyright © 2017

ISBN: 978-1-62420-368-8

Electronic rights reserved by Rogue Phoenix Press, all other rights reserved by the authors. The reproduction or other use of any part of this publication without the prior written consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright law. This is a work of fiction. People and locations, even those with real names, have been fictionalized for the purposes of these stories.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Chasing Rainbows

Dedication

To the other Rogue’s Angels, Christine Young and C. L. Kraemer. To Linda Hamer, who makes a fictional cameo appearance in this story, and to her daughters, who honored their mother by sponsoring this appearance. To all the animals who have passed through the doors at Willamette Humane Society—may you always know the joy of chasing rainbows.

Chapter One

Ka-boom! The blast shattered the settling peace of dusk as Marissa Madison pulled into the circular drive. Rissa threw open the car door and sprinted toward the gray stone house.

Please, no blood this time, she whispered as her feet hit the rough-hewn steps leading up to the broad double doors.

A bespectacled man stepped through the doorway amid a confetti shower of envelopes and leaflets. His silvery hair stood in startled spikes around a balding pate as if it too had been a victim of the explosion.

Too much torque in the mail conveyor, he muttered with a frown.

Please turn it off, Uncle Horace!

Right. The old man disappeared back into the house. Within moments, the clanking stopped and silence fell over the rolling hills once again.

Just another normal day, Rissa thought, as she surveyed the day’s mail scattered in gay abandon across the landscape.

The sullen gray sky rumbled ominously and tossed a few raindrops against her face. Rissa grabbed a check out of the privet hedge, an overdue bill off the bird bath, a shampoo sample from the branches of the azaleas, and a plain brown envelope from the lawn.

I hope I didn’t miss anything important. Rissa scanned the inner courtyard once more. Lightening crackled across the sky, hurrying her steps back to the navy blue sedan to grab her briefcase and a bag of groceries. She closed the heavy wooden door behind her as a gust of wind pushed fat, sloppy raindrops against the mullioned windows.

Maybe Uncle Horace should invent a mail dryer instead of a mail conveyer. Rissa dropped the soggy mail on a cherry wood table as she stepped out of her shoes. With the bag of groceries balanced on one hip, she padded barefoot toward the kitchen. A tall figure in a sweeping lavender print dress stood at the sink.

I couldn’t tell if the grocery list said chips or cheese, so I got both. As Rissa moved closer, the person she thought was her aunt turned toward her. She shrieked and dropped the groceries. Ryan!

Rissa’s twin brother grinned at her from beneath the purple feathers of one of her aunt’s collection of hats.

Do I want to know what’s going on? Rissa asked warily.

I’m going to a Valentine’s party tonight, Ryan replied.

Dressed as Aunt Madelaine? Rissa retrieved a head of lettuce and a package of marshmallow pinwheel cookies from the marbled tiles.

It’s a great way to pick up women. Ryan bent down and caught an escaping tomato. You’d be amazed at what they tell dear Aunt Mads.

You’ve done this before?

Sure. Madelaine thinks it’s a hoot.

Where is Aunt Maddie? Rissa pushed aside a stack of unwashed dishes to set the tattered grocery bag on the counter.

Ryan shrugged. She’s been gone all day. By the way, I left your food in the microwave since I knew you’d be late.

Rissa opened the microwave and poked at the still-warm entree.

It’s beef tips over rice—one of your favorites.

Thanks. Rissa glanced over her shoulder. With the hat pulled low across his face, Ryan bore an uncanny resemblance to their tall, raw-boned aunt. She couldn’t resist one jibe. You’ll make someone a wonderful wife some day.

Ryan fisted a hand on one hip and struck a pose until Rissa chuckled.

Come with me, Ryan urged. When was the last time you went out?

Thanks, but I’m tired.

You work too hard.

The truth of her brother’s statement stirred a wistfulness in Rissa, which she quickly pushed away.

I think Madelaine might have a special surprise planned for tonight. Ryan grinned wickedly.

What are you scheming now? Rissa frowned at her brother.

Guess you’ll have to come with me to find out.

Oh, no. I’m not falling for that trick. I’m going to eat this gourmet dinner you so thoughtfully prepared and go to bed.

Ryan shrugged, and Madelaine’s lavender feather boa slid off his shoulder. Well, you can read about it in the morning paper anyway.

Rissa’s fingers gripped the plate holding her dinner. Ryan was baiting her. That was all. He wouldn’t really do anything too foolish.

The muffled thud of the front door echoed her brother’s departure.

He’ll go to the Pink Flamingo, have a few drinks, pick up another blonde, and come home just before my alarm clock goes off, Rissa told herself. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Of course, she never would have guessed Ryan dressed up as their aunt, either—and apparently got away with it.

No, I am not going to follow him. Rissa marched to the kitchen table, pulled out a chair, and spread a napkin across her lap. She even lifted a bite of food to her mouth.

Oh, bother and damnation. She set her fork carefully back on her plate. What if her brother really did something spectacularly stupid? Rissa would have to pick up the pieces anyway. She might as well stop the disaster before it got started.

~ * ~

Come on, you bucket of bolts, just another couple miles. Ian MacGregor was determined he could motivate the sputtering 1972 Pinto station wagon through sheer iron will as he did raw army recruits. In spite of his command, the car belched a cloud of black smoke and the engine died. Ian managed to steer the well-used vehicle onto the shoulder of the road before it stopped moving completely. Then he cranked the engine until the battery groaned weakly in protest.

Cursing under his breath, Ian climbed out and stared at the disabled vehicle. If it hadn’t belonged to his recently deceased father, Ian would have kicked the tire. An unexpected lump formed in his throat. He should have been enjoying a roaring drunk to grieve his father, not selling every piece of personal property so his mother didn’t have to live on the street.

A raindrop spattered against his face, followed quickly by another and yet another. Ian scowled at the darkened sky. Not a star was visible through the thick blanket of clouds, and no headlights brightened the gloomy evening. In fact, he hadn’t seen anyone else on the road for the last half hour. He punched a button on his cell phone, but got only a no service available message.

With another muttered oath, Ian swung his duffle bag out of the back seat, took one last look at the tired auto and set off down the road. As he walked, his thoughts turned as bleak as the driving rain and cold wind that jabbed at the upturned collar of his battered leather jacket. The two thousand dollars offered by a collector for the Pinto wouldn’t go far toward paying off the debts racked up by his father’s business partner. However, his mother insisted on paying what they could.

Ironic that his mother was the strong one in the family when a crisis hit. Soft-spoken in the way of the librarian she had been for years, no one argued twice with Linda MacGregor when that steely glint flashed in her eyes and her jaw took on a stubborn tilt. Ian remembered the first and last time he had made that mistake. His teenaged social life shrank to the size of his bedroom and his father just laughed when Ian begged him to intercede.

So he marched down a deserted midnight road, gaze focused forward, until flashes of neon green and pink began to dance in the misty sky. His steps slowed cautiously as a square concrete building appeared and the neon colors took on the shapes of palm trees and flamingoes.

Ian scrubbed a hand across his eyes, thinking the illusion would disappear. But when he looked again, the neon still winked at him. What the hell. As long as it was warm and dry with a phone to call a tow truck.

Once under the portico, Ian brushed the rain out of his short-cropped hair and pushed open the door. Shades of pink engulfed him, rather like falling into a bottle of stomach antacid. Pink hearts suspended from the ceiling. Pink stencils around the mirrors. Pink napkins and pink drinks with pink straws. Even the waitresses wore pink and carried heart-shaped trays.

Oh-kay, Ian thought. The hallucinations inside were even stranger.

He touched the arm of a waitress passing by, wondering if he could order something that wasn’t pink with hearts.

But the moment her startled gray eyes met his, Ian’s voice disappeared. I knew I would marry your mother the first time I saw her. His father’s awed statement echoed in Ian’s mind. Many times he had heard the story of how his parents met on Valentine’s Day and were married on that day a year later. Ian always smiled and nodded when they retold their tale.

However, he hadn’t actually believed them until this moment.

The woman he knew would be his future wife lifted a pink heart-shaped plastic tray in front of her like a shield, calling attention to a bosom barely contained in a rose-colored tube top. Then she backed away a few steps, spun and sprinted toward the bar.

~ * ~

Hovering at the far end of the bar, Rissa rubbed her arm where That Man’s fingers had rested. Dressing as a waitress had seemed like the perfect solution to keep an eye on her brother. Put on a wig and some selected endowments, then circulate through the bar and smile. Unfortunately, because she looked like a waitress, she was expected to act like one also. Except that she didn’t know a Black Russian from a Bloody Mary, and her feet hurt. She supposed that her backside would have been black and blue from pinches too if it hadn’t been artificially padded.

However, Rissa quickly figured out a simple system. Wine in the tall glasses; hard liquor in the short, squatty ones. Match the color of the umbrellas or what was left of the drink. If she mixed up the orders, she just smiled and apologized profusely. Her system had worked fine.

Until That Man touched her arm.

Rissa couldn’t even look into his mesmerizing green eyes without growing dizzy. A dimple appeared briefly in his left cheek as he flashed a smile.

Lowering her gaze was another mistake. His worn-soft bomber jacket and faded-on jeans conveyed a dangerously intimate message. A message her body picked up loud and clear.

Ceiling fans moved languidly, shifting the air but not cooling her heated flesh. Perspiration dampened her palms, her upper lip, the valley between her glued-on, enhanced breasts.

For the first time in her life, Rissa was confronted with the raw sexual power between a man and a woman. It startled and intrigued her; made her want to draw back even as it pulled her under its spell.

The physical impact of someone stumbling against her brought Rissa back to reality—and a commotion by the bar. Rex Foxworth stood alone beside a three-foot-tall cake, his face covered with a stunned expression and clumps of pink frosting.

Where’s Ryan? Rissa thought. What happened?

She took a step and her padded breasts slid downward. Oh, bother and damnation.

The glue must have been loosened by the perspiration generated from close proximity to the tempting stranger. Rissa placed a hand under her sagging bosom and nudged it upward.

The emerald-eyed stranger reappeared, regarding her curiously.

Are you feeling alright? the man asked.

Rissa nodded vigorously, which started her bosom sliding once more. She crossed her arms and hugged her waist.

Are you sure you’re not in pain?

No! she whispered as her phony breasts continued their downward slide. If I can just get out of here without the entire bar noticing my escaping body parts.

Rissa edged along the bar. The door seemed miles away, but she could make it. She knew she could.

Wait! That Man touched her arm again.

The contact caught Rissa by surprise. As she spun around to face the stranger, her arms dropped their frantic hold across her midsection. She felt a shifting and realized her borrowed bosoms were now at her waist. Horrified, she watched the slow motion descent of her faux breasts as they fell at the stranger’s feet.

I’m sorry, Rissa whispered. She snatched the padding from atop the man’s spit-shined shoes and double-timed it out of the Pink Flamingo.

Chapter Two

Ryan was in the kitchen, picking blue moons out of the cereal when Rissa stumbled downstairs the next morning, hung over from dreams of mesmerizing green eyes and sliding fake body parts. Hey, sis, you’re up late this morning.

At least he was wearing jeans and not lavender chiffon. Where is everyone?

Horace is in the basement working on holograms, Mother is in her suite, and Aunt Madelaine hasn’t shown up yet, Ryan recited dutifully, then added, She’s probably off chasing rainbows.

Rissa poured a cup of coffee then slid into a chair across from her brother. The mid-morning sunshine spilled through the leaded glass window, casting rainbows of color on the oaken table, which she traced with her finger. Do you remember how Aunt Maddie used to take us to look for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?

Yeah. She would drive for miles and miles and you’d jump up and down shrieking ‘go faster’. Your hair stuck out all over—just like it is now. Ryan crossed his eyes and waved his hands around his head in imitation of his sister’s hair.

Rissa smoothed a hand over the corkscrew tangle of her curls. I don’t think I’d survive one of her adventures any more.

You’re not as boring as you try to pretend.

Gee, thanks—I think. Do you remember the mechanical dogs Uncle Horace made for us?

Mmm. Ryan took a bite of his cereal.

They walked and barked. Not like a real dog with fur to bury your face in, but no one else had a dog like ours. Uncle Horace is transforming mine into a new invention. What happened to yours?

Instead of answering, Ryan changed the subject. Did you have a good time last night?

Rissa’s coffee cup stopped halfway to her mouth. Dear heavens! Had her brother recognized her at the Pink Flamingo? Surely not, or he would be mimicking her frantic movements to keep her borrowed bosoms in place. She decided to brazen this one out. Your idea of a good time differs from mine.

Jeez, did you go back to the office last night? If you’re going to stay out later than me, you should at least be doing something almost fun.

Rissa sipped her coffee and remained quiet.

That’s good, though, Ryan continued. If you went to the office last night, you shouldn’t have to work today, right?

I didn’t say that. It’s tax season. We’re busy.

Ryan leaned closer to Rissa. I need a favor.

I’m not going on a blind date with any of your buddies.

No, it’s not that. Besides, you have all of them convinced you’re boring.

Rissa pointed a spoon at her brother in warning.

Hey, that’s what you wanted, Ryan defended himself. But listen, I invited Tiffany over today and I want you to keep Mother busy.

Who’s Tiffany?

I met her last night. Ryan grinned. Blonde, great body—

Sounds like your kind of girl. Why spoil it and bring her home?

You wound me, Ryan protested as he put his hand over his heart.

Rissa fixed her brother with a you-can’t-fool-me look.

After another quick glance over his shoulder, Ryan confessed, She thinks she’s coming to see Madelaine.

Aunt Maddie’s not— Rissa stopped mid-sentence as she remembered that Ryan had been dressed as Madelaine last night. You lied to her.

Well, not exactly. She said she really liked the neon flamingoes Madelaine made for Rex’s restaurant and I asked her if she wanted to see some other art work.

You used the come-and-see-my-etchings line on her? Ryan, anyone dumb enough to fall for that line should be pitied, not taken advantage of.

Tiffany’s not dumb. She’s also a very nice person.

That’s never stopped you before.

She was really upset that Rex pinched me.

Is that why you pushed his face in the cake?

You were there! Ryan exclaimed triumphantly. You must have come up with a great disguise. I didn’t even see you.

You could at least be nice to Rex at his own party. Rissa tried to sidetrack her brother. She did not want to tell him about her night out. The only one in at least six months and it had been a disaster.

Madelaine would have decked him.

Rissa’s smile almost escaped. I suppose you’re right.

You were there, huh? Ryan grinned at her. I knew you still had a spark of fun in you. So keep Mother occupied, okay?

On one condition. That you don’t masquerade as Aunt Maddie any more.

Hey, I hardly ever do that any way.

Rissa scowled at her brother. Justice will find you some day.

As long as she’s blonde and beautiful. Ryan stood and pushed his chair back, ruffling Rissa’s hair. Maybe Mother can do something with your frizzies too.

He dodged her right jab and bounded out of the room.

~ * ~

Ian gazed at the gray stone building perched regally on the hillside. Its lofty stone turrets seemed to disappear high into the clouds above, bringing to mind the castles he had seen in Scotland on his last trip across the Atlantic.

As he crossed a stone bridge, he expected to glimpse a long, scaly tail in the water. He drove slowly across the cobbled courtyard, envisioning oxen, prancing stallions, and a princess with gray eyes.

Ian hadn’t fantasized about a woman in a long time. Now he couldn’t get the woman he met last night out of his mind. One minute she was standing in front of him, all seductive curves and wild hair; then her fake breasts slid out from under her tube top. Most women would have died on the spot, but she picked the things up, apologized as if she had bumped his arm on the sidewalk, and sailed out of the bar.

Ian wondered what he would have done if he had caught up with her. Maybe he would be tired as a new recruit at boot camp, but not so restless this morning. He parked beside a Volvo and a Ford sedan, reminders that this wasn’t a castle from the days of knights and rogues; this was the twenty-first century. He didn’t have time to dally with a princess. His mother needed the money from selling the Pinto station wagon to Madelaine Ainsworth, an antique car collector with an eccentric reputation.

Deliver the car and go home, Ian reminded himself.

He stepped up to the castle door and rapped the cast iron doorknocker against its base. A shrill whistle pierced the air, followed by two clanks and a thud. The whistle shrieked again, then pieces of paper spewed out of a slot beside the door.

Ian jumped aside as a staunch man with spiky white hair burst through the door. Within seconds, another person tumbled outside.

Uncle Horace, what’s happening?

Mail conveyor. Still too much torque.

Please—

I know, I know. Turn it off. The older man shot a bewildered smile toward Ian then disappeared back inside.

The other person was definitely a woman, Ian thought, eying her shapely legs outlined in slim fitting pants. And damned if her baggy sweatshirt didn’t have the same effect as the hot pink top that last night’s waitress wore.

Ian forced his gaze to the woman’s face and realized she had been staring at him too. She quickly ducked her head and bent to pick up the papers that had drifted to rest on the porch. He squatted to help her. They worked side by side to gather the debris as clanking, thudding and an occasional whistle echoed across the hills.

The sudden silence jolted Ian’s attention back to the woman. She stood gracefully, papers clutched in her hands. He rose also and handed her a fistful of envelopes. Their gazes locked for a moment and recognition jolted Ian in the groin. She was the waitress from last night’s Valentine’s party.

The woman he was going to marry.

I’m sorry. She stepped away from him. We don’t always greet visitors with a confetti shower.

Her voice wafted over him.

No problem. Ian waited for her to say more. I knew you were the one the moment I saw you. May I touch your hand? Kiss your lips? Spend my life with you?

But she remained silent.

What if she didn’t feel the same way he did? To hear his parents tell their story, his mother took some convincing that Calvin MacGregor was the man she should marry. That was okay. Ian was no stranger to challenges. If this slender woman was Madelaine Ainsworth, he would certainly find other items she might like to collect.

I’m Ian MacGregor. He smiled and held out his hand, anticipating the pleasure of her touch, if only briefly. I’m looking for Madelaine Ainsworth.

The woman opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another voice. Yoo-hoo, Marissa, is that you out there?

You’re not Madelaine? Ian asked.

Rissa shook her head. Madelaine isn’t here. She stepped inside and started to close the door.

The thought of losing both the money his mother needed and the woman he had been fantasizing about stirred Ian to action. He kicked his foot forward, effectively stopping the heavy wooden door from closing. When will Madelaine be back?

It’s hard to tell. Try later in the week.

Wait a minute—

Marissa, do we have company? The door opened wide once again, framing a woman who could have stepped straight out of the 1950’s, wearing a poodle skirt and sweater, with her shoulder-length blonde hair teased and sprayed into a turned-up curl at the ends.

Mother, he’s looking for Aunt Maddie.

Oh, she’ll be back any minute. Do come in and have some tea with us.

Triumph flashed through Ian as the older woman motioned him inside and led the way down the hall, chattering.

~ * ~

After her mother and Ian were settled in the sitting room and engrossed in conversation, Rissa sat into a caged wicker chair off to one side. The chair’s woven sides curved to a peak above her head, leaving a modest open circle in front through which she could watch her mother charm their unexpected