Save the Date (51 page)

“No more takeout coffee,” Cara said stubbornly. “Our overhead here is going to be killer. We’ve got to start economizing. And that means no more five-dollar lattes. I’ll just run over to Jones Street and get the coffeepot. I think the pantry stuff, with the coffee and the sugar, are in that box there.” She pointed to a large carton on the floor. “If you’ll start unpacking that, I’ll take Poppy with me, and we’ll bring back pizza for dinner.

“Come on, Poppy,” Cara called. “Let’s go, girl.”

The dog came running and happily allowed herself to be loaded into the front seat of the pink Bloom van for the short ride back to their old home.

*   *   *

Cara let herself in the front door and felt the gloom descend on her, like a heavy wool blanket. She wouldn’t allow herself to look at the barren walls, at the swept-clean floor. Get the coffeepot and get out, she told herself.

Poppy raced down the hall. She stopped in front of the back door, glancing back expectantly at Cara, and pawed at the door.

“Okay,” Cara said with a sigh. “One more try. Maybe that squirrel will get careless, and you’ll get lucky.” She opened the door and Poppy was out like a shot.

She went back to the kitchenette and unplugged the coffeemaker.

“Hey!” a woman’s voice called from the front of the shop. She banged on the glass window. “Hey, are you in there?”

Cara poked her head out of the kitchen nook. A willowy blonde stood on the sidewalk, peering in through the window.

She opened the door. “Can I help you?” Over the woman’s shoulder she spied a yellow VW bug parked in the loading zone. A familiar fluffy white dog’s head hung out the open passenger window.

“Rowlf!” Shaz barked a greeting.

Zoey was a stunner, even with her long blond hair pinned carelessly atop her head. She wore a tight-fitting turquoise tank top that showed off impressive cleavage and a span of flat, tanned abdomen above low-slung white denim shorts. She had dancer’s legs, long and toned, if just the slightest bit bowlegged, and she stood at least four inches taller than Cara, making her feel like a dwarf. A dowdy, depressed dwarf.

Zoey was studying Cara, too, and not bothering to pretend otherwise. “So you’re the new girlfriend,” she said, her lips flickering amusement. “Sorry for the intrusion, but I just had to check you out for myself before I leave.”

Cara was looking at the VW. The backseat was loaded with boxes, and there was a bike on a rack strapped to the rear bumper.

“You’re leaving town?” she asked. Stupid question.

“Sure am. My severance check from the cruise line finally came today, so I am out—like the fat kid in dodgeball.” Zoey laughed at her own little joke.

Shaz had managed to wriggle her whole upper body out of the toylike VW window.

“Does Jack know you’re leaving?” Cara asked.

“He’ll figure it out when he gets home and sees that Shaz is gone.”

“Where are you moving?” In her mind’s eye, Cara could picture Jack arriving back at Macon Street, opening the door, and waiting for the dog to nearly knock him down with her bad-mannered adoration.

“New Orleans,” Zoey said brightly. “I’m going to teach at a new studio that just opened in the French Quarter. It’s called Sweatbox. Cool, huh? And I’ve rented the cutest little furnished efficiency you’ve ever seen, on the third floor above it.”

Cara frowned, thinking of Shaz cooped up in a third-floor studio all day. Jack’s cottage might be small, but it had its own fenced backyard, and these days, she knew, more often than not, Jack took Shaz with him to his job sites.

She turned her attention back to Zoey. “Why are you telling me all this?”

Zoey’s laugh was deep and throaty. She could have had a great career doing phone sex. “That’s a very good question. First off, before I leave town, yeah, I wanted to check you out, see what the hot attraction was between you two. Honestly? I don’t get it. But you know what? I have no regrets. You want Jack Finnerty? Honey, you can have him. Yeah, he’s cute, and he’s great in bed. But you already know that, right?”

Cara stared up at the blonde, wondering where this was going, and whether she should admit that she and Jack were no longer an item.

“But here’s something you might not have realized yet. He might have a hot body, but deep down, Jack is cold. He’s cold and he’s emotionally unavailable. He walls himself off from you, and there’s no breaking that down. And did I mention he’s a tightwad? We lived together for over a year, and he never bought me the first piece of jewelry.”

And yet, Cara thought. She and Jack had slept together exactly three times by his accounting, and then he’d gone out and bought her a building. A three-story $750,000 building. And to thank him, she’d thrown it right back in his face. Figuratively speaking.

Shaz barked, and Zoey looked over her shoulder and frowned. “Quiet, baby, we’re leaving in just a minute.”

Cara’s mind was working. She kept picturing Jack, walking into that cottage and realizing just how empty it really was.

“It’s a long ride to New Orleans,” she said, trying to sound casual. “And it’s so hot. You don’t want her to get dehydrated. Why don’t you let me take Shaz out back to my courtyard, where my dog is? I’ll give her some water and she can have one more potty stop before you hit the road.”

“Okay, yeah, whatever,” Zoey said carelessly. She opened the VW’s door and Shaz bounced out, like an overinflated helium balloon. Zoey pulled a cell phone from the pocket of her shorts and leaned back against the car. “I’ll just wait here for her.”

*   *   *

Cara opened the door to the courtyard, and on spotting Poppy, Shaz barked a happy greeting. Poppy dropped the headless rubber doll she’d been chewing on, and came over to sniff Shaz’s muffle, and then her butt. A moment later, Shaz grabbed the toy Poppy had dropped, and lay down on the bricks to give it a chew.

“Come here, Poppy,” Cara called softly, looking back over her shoulder to make sure she was unobserved. For once, the dog obeyed. Cara wrapped her arms around the dog’s shoulders, inhaling the smell of her freshly shampooed fur. Poppy licked Cara’s neck and chin, while, with trembling fingers, Cara unbuckled her pink plaid collar and slipped it from her neck.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you,” she whispered in the dog’s silky ear. “But you’re just going to have to trust me. Okay? Do you trust me?”

Poppy’s tail beat a happy tattoo on the bricks.

*   *   *

“Okay,” Cara said, leading the dog out to the VW. “She’s all set to go.”

Zoey put her phone away, opened the car door and gestured. “Come on, Shaz. Let’s go! Let’s go for a nice ride.”

The dog planted its butt on the curb and looked from Zoey to Cara.

“Damn it, Shaz,” Zoey cried. She grabbed the dog’s neon-green collar and tugged. “Come on!” The dog resisted, even backing away from the VW.

Cara held her breath. “Let’s go, Shaz,” she said cheerily, giving the dog’s butt a gentle push. Finally, between the two of them, they managed to wedge her back into the VW’s passenger seat.

“Jack spoiled her rotten while I was gone,” Zoey griped, crossing around to the driver’s side. “Which is hysterical, since he claimed he never wanted a puppy in the first place. Now, he treats her way better than he ever treated me.” She gave Cara an appraising look. “You watch, he’ll do the same with your dog, now that Shaz is gone.”

“Maybe so,” Cara said. She stood back from the curb, and when the VW lurched away, she gave a sad little wave as it drove off, with the dog’s big fluffy head hanging out the window, looking backward.

*   *   *

Cara raced inside the shop and picked up her cell phone. She touched the icon with Jack’s number, praying he would pick up.

*   *   *

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled the truck around to the lane in back of the shop. He used his key to unlock the courtyard door.

Cara sat at the table under the umbrella, clutching her phone in her hand, her face etched with worry.

“Are you nuts?” he exploded. Shaz jumped up and planted her paws on his chest. “Down!” he said sternly, but she was not to be deterred. Finally, he scratched her head and her ears. She dropped to the ground, rolled over, and allowed him to scratch her belly.

“What if this doesn’t work?” he asked, glaring at Cara. “You don’t know Zoey. She’s a total flake. There’s no telling what she’ll do. She could drive straight through to New Orleans, and you’ll never see Poppy again. And then what? You’ll blame me, even though if you’d run this harebrained idea past me, I would have told you how crazy it was.”

“Five more minutes,” Cara said, glancing down at her watch. She reached her hand out for Jack’s phone. “Let me see Zoey’s number, so I can type it into my phone.”

“She might not answer,” Jack warned. “She won’t know who’s calling. Or maybe she won’t even hear it. She plays the radio in that car at full volume.”

“Just give me the phone, please,” Cara said.

He handed it over and she tapped in the number.

“Why did Zoey even come over here?” he asked.

Cara was still staring down at her phone, but she looked up now. “She wanted to check out what she thought was the competition. And she clearly didn’t see what you could have seen in me.”

“That’s textbook Zoey. She’s about as deep as an Arizona mud puddle.”

“She had a lot to say about you, Jack. And none of it was very flattering. She says you’re cold and emotionally distant.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And cheap. She says you never gave her a single piece of jewelry.”

His answering smile was grim. “Seems like I’ll be buying her some now, whether I like it or not. I’d just walked in the door five minutes earlier when you called. She wasn’t content to just take Shaz. She also cleaned out my sock drawer.”

“Zoey stole your socks?”

“She left the socks, but she took my stash. Sometimes my subs want to be paid in cash. I figure she got about two thousand dollars.”

Cara held up her phone so Jack could see it. “Okay, keep your fingers crossed. It’s been thirty minutes. It usually only takes about twenty minutes for Poppy.”

She tapped the Dial button on her phone. Zoey’s phone rang once, twice, three times, before the voicemail recording came on.

“Hi, this is Zoey,” the sultry recorded voice said. “You know what to do.”

Cara shook her head and disconnected.

“See? I knew this would happen. She probably thinks you’re a bill collector or something.”

“Or maybe she’s got her hands full right at the moment,” Cara said, swallowing her fear.

She dialed again, and this time Zoey picked up. Cara could hear the rush of traffic in the background.

“Oh, Zoey,” Cara cried with absolutely authentic relief. “Something awful has happened.”

“You’re telling me,” Zoey said.

“I must have gotten the dogs mixed up. Poppy and Shaz were both running around in the backyard, and they look identical, and somehow, I must have given you my dog, Poppy, instead of Shaz.”

“Thanks a lot,” Zoey said. “This damn dog has been barfing for ten minutes. She barfed all over the car, herself, me, it’s everywhere. It’s disgusting.”

“I am so, so sorry,” Cara said. “I just realized my mistake.”

“Yeah, ten minutes too late,” Zoey said. “Okay, I’m turning around right now. I can’t take much more of this.”

Cara hung up and turned to Jack with a triumphant smile. “She’s coming back.”

“Thank God,” he breathed. “But Zoey’s not going to give up this easily. Once she hands over Poppy, she’s gonna insist on taking Shaz with her, if only because she wants her revenge against me.”

“I’ve got another idea,” Cara said. “Do you trust me?”

Jack looked down at Shaz, who was curled up at his feet. Despite all the excitement, she was asleep, softly snoring. “Do I have a choice?”

*   *   *

Exactly twenty-seven minutes later, the VW zoomed up to the curb in front of Bloom. The motor was still running as Zoey jumped out, ran around, and opened the passenger door. “Out!” she screamed. Poppy’s head hung limply over the edge of the seat. “Get out, dammit!” Zoey repeated.

Cara stepped up and gathered the reeking puppy into her arms. “Poor baby,” she crooned. “My poor baby.”

“
Your
poor baby,” Zoey exploded. “Look at me! Look at my car! I can’t go anywhere like this. I’ve gotta get out of these clothes, shower, get my car cleaned up. I was gagging the whole way back here. I mean, what the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” Cara said, setting Poppy carefully down on the sidewalk. “But I’m surprised you haven’t encountered this with Shaz when you go on car trips. The vet says it’s something to do with the breed.”

“I’ve never taken Shaz on a car trip before,” Zoey replied. “What are you talking about?”

“Carsickness,” Cara said. “The vet says it’s hereditary with goldendoodles.”

“The breeder never mentioned it to me,” Zoey said. “And come to think of it, when I brought Shaz back from Atlanta, that was a four-hour car ride, and she was fine. She slept the whole way home.”

“Exactly,” Cara said. “My vet says it’s something the breeders downplay. Like hip dysplasia in Great Danes. When they’re really young, it doesn’t affect them so much. But once they’re seven or eight months old … bleaaahhhh.” Cara pantomimed an Oscar-worthy rendition of canine carsickness. “Poppy’s fine for a short ride, like to the vet or the grocery store, but if she’s in the car for more than fifteen minutes … bleaahhh.”

Zoey shuddered, then tapped her foot impatiently. “Jack never said anything about Shaz getting carsick.”

“Like you said, he’s totally selfish,” Cara pointed out. “He was probably hoping you’d take Shaz with you so he doesn’t have to deal with her himself.” She gestured toward the shop door. “If you want to come inside and get cleaned up, I’ll take Poppy out to the garden and hose her off, and then you can get Shaz. I’ve probably got some old towels you can take with you for the rest of the trip. Just in case, you know … bleahhh.”

Zoey crossed and uncrossed her arms. It took less than thirty seconds to make up her mind.

“Yeah. Thanks but no thanks. I think I’m just gonna let Shaz be Jack’s problem from now on.”

“You sure?” Cara asked helpfully. “I’ve got plenty of towels.”