Dog Days (5 page)

I felt the breath go out of my chest. “You
trimmed
one of my dogs?”

“Well, I only—”

But I heard nothing else. I pushed past him rudely, racing toward the grooming room.

Peaches was a two-year-old miniature poodle and one of my best customers. Her owner brought her in every two weeks for a bath and nail trim and once a month for a full cut. And she was very particular about how that cut was done.

Peaches greeted me by coming to the front of her cage and wagging her stubby little tail as I came in. She had a peach-colored bow atop her head and peach nail polish on her nails. The cut looked perfect, but I took her out of the cage anyway and examined her for razor burn or other signs of mishandling.

“I hope I didn’t overstep with the color scheme,” Corny said behind me, sounding a little anxious. “It just seemed that with her name being Peaches …”

“No.” I blew out a breath of relief and gave Peaches a treat before I put her back in the cage. “No, it’s fine. Everything looks fine. Only you can’t just …” I turned back to him, and then stopped as something occurred to me. “Cornelius Lancaster,” I said suddenly, remembering. “There was a famous dog handler by that name. You wouldn’t by any chance …”

He nodded enthusiastically, beaming at me. “My grandfather. One hundred forty-eight best-in-shows, including three at Westminster. Two hundred sixty best of group, three hundred eighty best of breed, and heaven knows how many championships. It’s kind of the family business.”

“Oh,” I said, staring at him. “Oh, wow. Well, that’s impressive, of course, but …”

My cell phone rang and I took it out of my pocket to check the caller ID. I held up a finger and said to Corny, “Stay here. Don’t touch anything. Don’t do anything. I’ll be right back.”

I walked quickly out of the room as I answered the call. “Miles,” I said. “Hey.”

“Hey, sugar.” He sounded a little distracted. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yours, too.” I pushed through the metal door and walked back toward my office. “I was starting to worry.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Things are a little more complicated here than I expected, and I didn’t want to discuss them in front of Mel. But we need to talk.”

Even under the best of circumstances, those words would make any woman pay attention. But as I reached the front of the building I heard a car door slam, and when I looked out the front windows everything inside me went still. I said, “Miles, I have to call you back.”

I disconnected and walked out the front door just as Buck opened the gate. Our eyes met for a moment, and I almost thought he hesitated. Then he came through the gate, closed it behind him, and started up the walkway toward me. I stood in the blistering sun and let him.

I’d been in love with Buck Lawson since I was fifteen years old. Except for a brief time in college, I had never been with anyone else. I married him when I was twenty-two years old, divorced him when I found out he was cheating on me, and married him again a year later. That marriage wasn’t much better than the first, and we spent almost as much of it apart as we did together. I divorced him for the last time in October of the previous year, when I found him in bed with Wyn, who was his coworker and, at that time, my friend.

It sounds like a soap opera and it doesn’t show either one of us in a very good light, but the truth is that things have always been more complex between us than they seem. It’s hard to just walk away from someone you’ve been with half your life. Hard for me, hard for him. We’d grown up together, we went to church together, we’d had Christmas and Thanksgiving and Fourth of July barbecues together for as long as I could remember. He was the one who’d given me Cisco, and to this day I think Cisco considers himself as much Buck’s dog as mine. How do you erase a history like that? How do you just stop being who you’ve always been?

He stood in front of me, close enough for me to smell the baked cotton of his uniform shirt, the faint familiar trace of his sweat. His eyes were squinted in the sun as he looked at me, and for a moment he didn’t say anything. Then, “You know I didn’t want that to happen.”

I said nothing.

“I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks,” he said. “All summer, I guess. Neither one of us wanted you to be blindsided. But that’s exactly what happened. I’m sorry.”

The ache in my stomach was back again, but I was very proud of how calm my voice was as I said, “What do you expect from me, Buck?”

“Nothing.” He was quick enough to admit that. Good for him. “I just wanted you to know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You never do.” I regretted that the minute I said it, because the last thing I wanted was to let him think he’d hurt me at all. I added irritably, “Is that it? Because I’m busy.”

I started to turn away, but he said, “No. No, there’s something else.”

I looked back at him impatiently.

I saw him swallow. He shifted his gaze briefly over my shoulder, and then back again. He said, “I don’t want you to hear it from somebody else. There’s a baby, Raine. Wyn is pregnant.”

A few months ago, I fell hard at an agility trial, literally knocking the breath out of myself. I remember that awful few seconds of floundering like a fish on the dock, wheezing and gasping with lungs that wouldn’t expand, until suddenly air came rushing in again. This was like that. Only it seemed like much longer than a few seconds before I could breathe again this time.

Finally I said, “Wow.” My lips felt heavy and my voice sounded odd and lifeless, even to my own ears. Still, I managed, “Congratulations. I know that’s what you’ve always wanted.”

I turned to go back inside, but before I had even completed the first step I spun around, palm out, and struck him hard across the face. “You
coward
!”

I stood there with fists clenched and eyes blazing, fighting the urge to hit him again. “That was for Wyn,” I said, breathing hard.

The force of my blow had left a welt across his cheek that was sure to bruise, and every time someone asked him about it he would remember this moment. I wanted to take satisfaction in that, but I couldn’t. Because when I looked into his eyes I did not see anger, or embarrassment, or even surprise. What I saw was relief. He had done something wrong, and now he had been punished. He thought it was over.

And he was right. It was.

Suddenly I was very tired. “Get out of here, Buck,” I said.

I turned to walk back to my office, and this time I didn’t look back.

CHAPTER FOUR

I
walked back into my office and sat down behind the desk. I drew in one long breath and blew it out through my lips. I moved the papers around on my desk. I leaned back in my chair and stared sightlessly at the SPCA poster of a puppy behind bars on the opposite wall.

Corny tiptoed in with his hands wrapped around one of my Dog Daze mugs. From the size of his eyes behind those absurd glasses, I guessed he had witnessed my assault on a police officer and was wondering whether he had just applied for a job with someone who was about to go to jail. He set the cup carefully on the desk before me.

“It’s chamomile,” he said, almost whispering. “I found it in the kitchenette. I hope you don’t mind. Very soothing.”

I stared at him.

“Well,” he murmured, taking a few steps backwards. “I guess I’ll just, um …” He gestured vaguely toward the door.

I blinked and managed to focus. I cleared my throat. “Thank you for the tea, Corny,” I said. “That was nice.” I took a sip and he regarded me with slightly less wariness. “And thanks for your help with the dogs while I was gone. I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

He smiled cautiously. “I love dogs. And they seem to like me.”

I took another sip of tea. “What did you mean, before, when you said you were my biggest fan?”

His eyes lit up and he pressed his hands together with excitement as he came back to my desk. “Well,” he confessed, “I’ve followed you on Facebook for, like,
ever,
and there was that great piece you did in
Clean Run
on proof-training contact points, and then year before last? When Cisco found that little girl who was lost in the woods and kept her warm all night?” He drew in a dramatic breath and clasped his hands over his heart. “Everyone in the whole
state
thought she was dead! Then of course there was that awful business with the New Day Wilderness Retreat, and how you and Cisco helped all those kids survive in a
blizzard
! I mean, the work you do! And then
Dog Fancy
did that feature on Camp Bowser-Wowser a couple of years back and I thought what you said about teaching scent-training was just brilliant.”

He must have seen me tense because a shadow of compassion came over his eyes as he added, “And then of course with all the publicity about what happened there last month, well …” The shadow was gone and the excitement was back. “You and Cisco are practically national heroes! How could I
not
be a fan? And when I saw on your website that you were looking for help …”

He rushed forward and sank into the chair that was pushed up against the wall near my desk, his hands clasped before him in supplication. “Oh, Miss Stockton! Working for you would be a dream come true!”

Over the top? Without a doubt. Unbelievable—as in seriously, unbelievable? You bet. But as I sat there considering the way my day had been going so far, Cornelius Lancaster the Third was the least bizarre thing that had happened to me.

I glanced down at his resume. “You’re from Chapel Hill?”

He nodded happily. “Very near.”

“Degree in Animal Behavioral Science from Duke?” I raised an eyebrow, impressed.

“Working on it,” he assured me.

I said, “Look, Corny, I really can’t afford to pay that much …”

“Don’t worry about it.” He gave a blithe wave of his hand. “I have a trust fund.”

I stared at him for another moment, then glanced back down at the resume. The usual pet store jobs, references from professors and past employers … but a trust fund kid? Really?

He said quickly, “I’ve been grooming dogs since I was eight years old. I can clip to standard any breed in the AKC. I won my first championship with a King Charles Cavalier when I was twelve and I’ve been showing dogs ever since. I also took two semesters of business and I majored in computer science for about six months, so I can be a real asset to you in the office. I don’t mind cleaning kennels. It would be an
honor
to clean kennels for you. I can—”

“I know, you’re very qualified, and I’m sure you’d do a good job,” I was compelled to interrupt. “It’s just that—”

“Miss Stockton,” he said earnestly, pressing his hands together between his knees. “My dream is to open a rehabilitation facility for abused and neglected dogs and train them to perform specialized tasks for disabled servicemen. If I could apprentice under you, get hands-on training in a genuine operating facility like Dog Daze, that would put me light years closer to what I was put on this earth to do. Let me prove myself to you. Give me a chance.”

I looked at him for another moment. Even I couldn’t believe the words that came out of my mouth next. “All right,” I said. “We’ll give it a shot. Twelve dollars an hour for the first two weeks and if it works out, fifteen dollars an hour after that. Ten to three six days a week.”

His face lit up like Christmas morning. “Do you mean it? I have the job?”

“Well, there’s paperwork. I have to check your references, I need you to fill out a W-4 …”

“Thank you!’ He jumped to his feet and grabbed my hand, pumping it enthusiastically. “Thank you! You won’t regret it, I swear! I won’t let you down!”

Taking everything into consideration, there was no way he could.

~*~

With Corny’s bouncing-ball energy and hamster-like speed, the kennels were cleaned, the boarders were exercised, and the day care clients were brushed, treated, and ready to go home by four thirty. Mrs. Sullivan loved Peaches’s puppy cut and gushed over the peach nail polish. She tipped ten dollars and I gave it to Corny. He protested, but I am always fair with my employees. He volunteered to stay until all the kennel dogs were fed and tucked away for the night, but I sent him home as soon as the last day care dog was picked up. He strapped on his paw print helmet and pedaled off happily on his bicycle, promising to be back bright and early the next morning.

I was thinking how a helmet like that would make a nice birthday present for Melanie when I realized I had forgotten to call Miles back. I promised myself I’d do it as soon as I closed up the kennel for the day, but I think I knew even then I wouldn’t. I just didn’t have the strength to deal with one more man today.

At five o’clock I let Mischief, Magic, Pepper, and Cisco out for one last romp, then took them up to the house to introduce them to the new dog. The best way to introduce two unfamiliar dogs is on leash, one at a time, and in neutral territory. Cisco and the Aussies are so accustomed to meeting strange dogs that they are practically disinterested, but I wasn’t so sure about Pepper. She was not even a year old and still full of puppy golden retriever exuberance, so I took her out to meet Cameo first while the other dogs waited in the house.

I had no sooner opened the gate to the rescue run than I heard the
clack
of claws against the kitchen window, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Cisco standing on his back legs, scratching at the window and grinning at us. As soon as Cameo trotted into view, he started barking and clawing at the window again; clearly, he felt he was entitled by virtue of rank to be the first to meet the new dog. Of course, once Pepper heard her idol bark she lost all but the most cursory interest in Cameo and started lunging happily toward Cisco. We had to have a few obedience reminders before I took Pepper back inside. Mischief was next, then Magic. After the routine sniffing and circling, Cameo seemed to dismiss the Aussies as beneath her regal notice, and my girls, as I’d expected, were far more interested in exploring the smells of the rescue run, where they rarely got to visit, than in yet another golden retriever.

Cisco was an entirely different story.

I put the other dogs inside while I prepared what I intended to be a brief on-leash introduction, but I had barely opened the door to escort Mischief inside when Cisco, his patience apparently at an end, dashed past me and out into the yard. Cisco’s door manners are not entirely flawless, but he definitely knows better than that, and I’ll admit he took me by surprise. I cried, “Cisco!” and spun around to chase him, but I needn’t have worried. He ran straight to the rescue run and flung his paws up on the gate, his tongue lolling with excitement as he tossed a glance over his shoulder at me. I unclipped Mischief’s leash and closed the door firmly behind me as I hurried to Cisco.

By the time I got there, the two goldens were sniffing each other through the chain link. I snapped the leash onto Cisco’s collar before allowing him inside. Cisco’s exuberance can be a little overwhelming under the best of circumstances, and I didn’t want him trying her patience. But the minute I opened the gate Cisco practically dragged me through it, and a series of blur spins and play bows convinced me the safest thing I could do for all concerned was to let Cisco off his leash and allow the two dogs to romp.

I laughed out loud as Cisco ran up to Cameo, bumped her shoulder, and took off in the opposite direction. She gave chase, and it was good to see her run like a normal, happy dog. Cisco found a stick and they played tug for a while. Cisco won the game of tug and ran away with the stick. Cameo pretended disinterest until Cisco circled back around and dropped the stick at her feet. In a flash, Cameo snatched it up and took off around the fence perimeter with Cisco in hot pursuit. I swear, the sheer innocent delight of dogs at play can heal the rawest wound, and I could have stood there all day watching them.

But once again I heard the clack of claws at the kitchen window and when I looked around it was Pepper, scratching on the glass and emitting her high-pitched puppy bark. She hated to be left out, and it was time for her dinner. I called Cisco to me and both dogs galloped up, pink tongues waving happily. I ruffled their fur and tugged their ears.

“I’m glad you made a friend,” I told Cameo. And I added to Cisco as I snapped on his leash, “But don’t you get too attached. She’s got a home. She’s only visiting.”

Feeding five dogs in one kitchen is a bit much, even for me, especially when two of those dogs are new to the pack. So I prepared Cameo’s dinner and took it to her in the rescue run, then put Pepper in her crate with her own bowl—a bright red ceramic one, I might add, embossed in silver with Pepper’s name and silver paw prints that Melanie had custom-ordered from a jewelry store in New York. She does tend to spoil that puppy, and her dad isn’t much better.

My three dogs waited in a patient, expectant sit while I doled out their meals into plain old stainless steel bowls. I was just putting the last bowl on the floor when my landline rang. I released the dogs with a hand signal and watched them dive into their meals as I answered it. It was my Aunt Mart.

“Hey, Raine,” she said. “Ro and I were just sitting here talking about throwing some chicken kebabs on the grill and we wondered if you wouldn’t like to come over for supper. I’m making apple slaw and a nice key lime pie for dessert. You know, that heart-healthy diet the doctors have got your uncle on isn’t half bad once you get used to it. And I’ve already lost ten pounds! Of course, that’s without the pie.”

I knew, of course, that she had not called just to invite me to supper. And as tempting as the menu sounded, I really wasn’t up to spending an evening with my aunt and uncle tiptoeing around Buck’s big news. I said, as cheerily as I could manage, “Thanks, Aunt Mart, it sounds great! But I just put a casserole in the oven.” The casserole in question was not exactly in my oven and would probably come in a cardboard box proclaiming it to be the healthiest frozen dinner on the market. And the sad thing was, it probably also would be the healthiest thing in my freezer, if not the only thing.

“Oh, honey, a casserole in this heat? How can you stand it?”

“Besides, I’ve really got my hands full here,” I went on. “You know how crazy it gets this time of year, and I just took in a new rescue dog. Say …” I plunged right into the subject to save her the awkwardness of trying to figure out how to bring it up herself. “Did you hear about Buck and Wyn?”

“Yes, I did.” There was a slight hesitance in her voice, but also a hint of relief. “That was awfully sudden, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” It was something of a struggle to keep my tone casual, and I hoped Aunt Mart didn’t notice. “I think they’ve been planning it for a while.”

“I suppose.” She sounded concerned, which meant I probably wasn’t doing as good a job about disguising my feelings as I’d hoped. “I just don’t understand why he didn’t tell anybody. I feel sorry for the girl, in a way, not having a proper ceremony and all.”

I felt sorry for her too, but not for that reason. “Well, I guess they didn’t want a fuss.”

She sighed. “I hate change. He’s been part of the family for so long. It’s going to feel strange thinking about him with someone else.”

I soldiered on. “Well, the more things change …”

I lost my thought and trailed off, and her silence was sympathetic. “Raine, honey …”

I said quickly, “Look, Aunt Mart, I’ve got to run. Five dogs in the house and all that.”

“Well, you take care of yourself in this heat. Lord, I don’t know what we’re going to do if we don’t get some rain. My garden’s as dry as a boneyard. I picked you a basket of tomatoes this morning but they go bad awfully fast this time of year, so if you don’t get over here in the next day or two, I’ll have Ro leave them on your porch.”