Sawyer was trying her best to juggle everything—her remote work, the ever-increasing HOA dues, and her burning desire to turn Dem Boyz into the next big thing in pet commercials. The dogs were driving her mad today, but in a good way.
Riggins, as usual, was lolling around on his back in the middle of her home office, as if he was performing a personal circus act. Russo gnawed on a piece of mulch he found in someone’s front yard, while Rafa, the fearless leader and protector, was barking incessantly at something or someone outside that Sawyer couldn’t immediately see.
She had just finished one of her Teams meetings when her phone buzzed. Please be good news, she thought. She glanced at the screen—it was from the pet agent.
Her heart skipped a beat. She quickly opened the email.
Dear Ms. Calhoun,
Thank you for your patience. We’ve reviewed your dogs’ profiles and we’re pleased to inform you that we’re interested in taking the next steps. To move forward, we’ll need a recent video demo of their best work and a few more details about their availability and past engagements.
Looking forward to hearing back soon!
Sawyer almost dropped her phone. This was it. Dem Boyz had an actual shot at being represented by an agent. This was the break she had been hoping for, the thing that could help ease the financial strain from the constantly rising HOA dues and general cost of living expenses.
But then reality hit her like a freight train.
“Crap,” she muttered, pacing the room. How was she supposed to make a demo video in the next 24 hours, work her real job, and still manage the HOA battle and Cheryl’s gossip about the garden? She didn’t have the time, but she had to do it. She had no choice.
Riggins, who had been looking up at her as though waiting for some kind of instruction, perked up. “You’re going to make me a star, aren’t you, Riggy-Rigg? Who’s the most beautiful dog in the world?”
He gave a little bark, and that was all it took for Sawyer to pull herself together.
“Alright, alright. Let’s get you boys ready for your big break.”
As she was about to dive into the work of scheduling the demo video and figuring out what to wear (for her and the dogs—do we do bandanas? Little t-shirts?), the doorbell rang, pulling her out of her thoughts. Rafa barked like a maniac, running full speed toward the door.
Sawyer groaned. “Please don’t be a salesman.”
She opened the door to find Cheryl, looking as frantic as ever, her arms flailing wildly as if she were trying to communicate something urgently.
“Okay, okay,” Cheryl said, catching her breath. “I need to talk to you. It’s about the garden. You’re not going to believe what I found.”
Sawyer’s heart skipped. She knew Cheryl wasn’t the type to make things up, but at this point, she wasn’t sure what to believe about that garden.
“Cheryl, not now,” Sawyer said, rubbing her temples. “I’ve got a lot going on with the dogs and—”
“Sawyer, come on! Just go with me real quick. It’ll only take a second, I swear. Cheryl was already halfway across the postage-stamp sized yard like that settled it.
“What’s going on now?” Sawyer asked, trying to ignore the growing panic in her stomach about her to-do list.
“It’s the garden again,” Cheryl said, eyes wide with alarm. “It’s getting worse.”
Sawyer sighed. Of course, it was. She’d hoped this whole “mystery garden” thing would die down, but it seemed like it was only picking up steam. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that it really was weird. No one remembered planting it. Maya was too calm about it, and now Nathan was losing it.
“What is it this time?” Sawyer asked, glancing around.
“I’m telling you, it’s getting more deliberate,” Cheryl whispered. “There’s a pattern to it. And I saw someone in the middle of the night, Sawyer. I swear it was like they were digging something up under the vines.”
Sawyer’s interest piqued. “So now it’s not just flowers? You think someone’s hiding something under there? Do you think it’s Maya?”
Cheryl nodded, eyes darting nervously. “I don’t know, but I think we need to find out before it’s too late.”
Sawyer glanced toward the garden, her mind spinning. Could the garden be hiding something? Something more than just overgrown flowers? Something connected to the Patterson house?
“Alright, let’s take a look,” Sawyer said. “But if I find anything strange, I’m calling the HOA. They’ll have to deal with it.”