The Lucky Dog Matchmaking Service (8 page)

Chapter 9

Cherie Chadwick’s house—well,
house
was really an understatement;
estate
was probably a better term—was a sprawling, modern, Frank Lloyd Wright–inspired compound constructed with lots of angled glass and concrete. The home was perched atop a hill, situated to offer views of the twinkling city lights on one side and the vast, cactus-dotted nature preserve on the other. Lara had been to this neighborhood many times over the years—her mother had moved to Mayfair Estates when Lara was a sophomore in college—but she had never really explored the quiet, winding streets. Apparently, the community had a strict social hierarchy, and Cherie Chadwick was at the very top. Compared to this place, Justine’s custom-built, four-thousand-square-foot spread looked like a falling-down crack den.

When Lara pulled up in her battered old station wagon, she had to announce her arrival at an intercom by the ornate wrought-iron gates, which seemed like overkill, given that Mayfair Estates already had a twenty-four-hour security guard stationed down at the entrance to the community.

But she cleared the gate-within-a-gate, parked her car on the paving stones encircling a fountain in the center of the driveway, and took a moment to get focused. Okay, so she had just flushed her love life down the toilet—literally. So Evan had left the house that morning without a word or a single glance back. There was nothing she could do about any of that now. The die had been cast. The ring had been flushed.

And she had the feeling she was going to be apartment hunting in the immediate future, so a little extra cash would really come in handy.

She approached the massive front door and rang the bell with the wide-eyed hesitancy of Little Orphan Annie arriving at Daddy Warbucks’s mansion.

Given the grandeur of the grounds, Lara was expecting a liveried, British-accented butler to greet her, but instead she found herself face-to-face with the lady of the house, an apple-cheeked, middle-aged woman wearing a violet and lavender tweed blazer, perfectly tailored gray pants, and a whimsical bee pendant fashioned out of yellow and white diamonds. With her silvery white hair styled in a flattering bob and her makeup artfully applied, she seemed warm and welcoming.

“You must be Lara.” Cherie took Lara’s hand in both of hers. “Thank you so much for dropping by. I need to find a handler immediately, and I have a feeling you’re the one.”

Lara glanced around the sun-drenched foyer and sitting room, both of which were done up in subtly contrasting shades of white and ivory. Even though she was wearing her nicest work outfit and had showered not twenty minutes ago, she stood perfectly still, afraid to sit down or touch anything. Every item in this house looked expensive, pristine, and breakable. She didn’t see a single errant strand of pet hair. “You said you have a Bernese mountain dog?”

“A Bernese mountain dog and a housekeeper who vacuums twice a day,” Cherie confirmed with a wink. “Eskie’s in the den. Come along, and I’ll make the introductions.”

Lara followed Cherie down a long hallway. Her voice echoed off the high, vaulted ceiling and she marveled at the collection of abstract oil paintings displayed in recessed niches.

“What can I get you?” Cherie asked as they passed through a kitchen that looked like a set from the Food Network. “Coffee? Tea? Mimosa?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thank you.” Lara caught a glimpse of a shimmering pool, complete with rock-lined waterfall, through the patio door. “As I said, I’ve never worked as a conformation handler—I’ve only been to conformation shows once or twice—but I’m happy to answer your questions.”

“No questions.” Cherie glanced back over her shoulder with a smile. “This really isn’t up to me. Eskie will decide if she likes you or not.”

And with that, she opened a pair of varnished pocket doors, revealing a cozy family room and a huge, fluffy black-and-white dog with expressive chestnut-colored “eyebrows,” dainty white-tipped paws, and soft brown eyes.

“Meet Swiss Star’s Evening Escapade.” Cherie clapped her hand to her heart. “The love of my life.”

Eskie greeted Lara with ladylike canine manners—no jumping, no barking, no overly enthusiastic sniffing. The dog seemed friendly and curious, but not hyper or insecure. Clearly she was waiting for Lara to make the first move.

Lara held her ground and used her most authoritative tone. “Eskie, sit.”

Eskie’s haunches hit the floor.

Only then did Lara offer her palm for sniffs and licks. “Good girl.”

Eskie opened her mouth, eyes dancing, in the canine version of a giggle. Lara continued to pet her and Eskie continued to sit, soaking up the affection and offering a paw for a shake.

“She adores you,” Cherie murmured. “I knew it.”

“She’s gorgeous,” Lara said. Though Lara had a weakness for unconventional-looking mutts, this Berner was a classic beauty, a real showstopper. “Has she had any obedience training?”

“I took her to a puppy class when I first brought her home from the breeder last year. She can sit, shake, fetch, and lie down.”

“Any issues with socialization?” Lara asked. “Is she anxious around other dogs?”

“No, my little Eskie’s a social butterfly, aren’t you?” Cherie cooed.

Eskie’s tail thumped against the priceless Oriental rug, sending flurries of black fur through the air. In the next few minutes, Lara continued to dole out affection and Eskie gave up any semblance of dignity, collapsing on the floor and rolling over for a belly rub.

Cherie clapped her hands together. “Well, it’s settled. She has to have you. How much?”

Lara glanced up from her tummy-scratching ministrations. “Sorry?”

“How much to put you on retainer?” Cherie asked. “I want you to handle Eskie exclusively.”

Lara planted her palms on her thighs and pushed herself up. “Oh, I can’t commit to only one dog. I already have five fosters at home—eight, actually, as of this morning—and several clients I work with on rally and obedience training.”

Cherie waved this away. “Yes, of course, your charity efforts.”

“I also have a full-time job,” Lara said. “I’m a veterinary drug rep, and I don’t have a typical nine-to-five schedule, but I still put in at least forty hours per week.”

“Fine, fine.” This seemed to be the upper-crust-rich-lady version of “whatever.” “But I don’t want you to handle any other dog on the conformation circuit.”

Lara thought of Mullet and Linus and had to smile. “Don’t worry. The dogs I normally work with aren’t really the beauty pageant type.”

“Perfect. Then let’s get started as soon as possible.”

Something about Cherie’s purpose and pluck seemed forced, and Lara stepped back to examine what was going on underneath all that cheeriness.

She let the room go quiet for a moment, then asked, “You’ve never entered one of these shows before?”

Cherie toyed with her diamond earring. “No.”

Lara nodded. “May I ask why you’ve decided to take the plunge now?”

“Well, just look at my darling girl! Her markings are perfect. Her personality is delightful. And she’s bred from championship lines, you know. Her grandfather placed at Westminster. It would be a waste for her to just sit around at home.” At this, Cherie’s smile faltered just a bit.

Lara waited.

The older woman sighed. “My husband spent his whole life traveling for work. We had always talked about the trips we would take, the things we’d do together after he retired.” She cleared her throat and placed her palm on Eskie’s head. “Well, now that he’s finally retired, he’s taking all those trips we talked about . . . with a twenty-eight-year-old flight attendant.”

Lara reached out and touched Cherie’s sleeve. “I’m so sorry.”

“And you know, I want something young and beautiful, too. I’m not ready to give up on having goals and projects and surprises.”

“If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do,” Lara promised. “The three of us will be a team. But since we’re brand-new at this, I’m not sure all the surprises will be good ones.”

“I’ll think of it as an adventure.” Cherie slipped a check out of her jacket pocket and handed it to Lara. “Are you available to come by tomorrow morning, same time?”

Lara glanced down at the figure written on the check and almost collapsed. “I’ll be here at nine.”

* * *

Lara came home from work as early as she could that night, hoping that she would be able to pick up the dogs, pack her bags, and leave the scene before Evan returned from soccer practice.

No such luck.

When she opened the garage door, his Audi was parked in the usual spot and she could hear the dogs on the other side of the door, waiting to welcome her with the usual fur-and-drool-drenched festivities. Evan must have let them out of their crates.

She greeted Maverick, Zsa Zsa, Rufus, Raggs, and Linus in turn, then looked down the hall for any sign of Evan. The lights were off and the house was silent. Maybe he wasn’t home after all—maybe he’d dropped off his car and gone to soccer with a buddy so he could drink microbrews with wild abandon between scrimmages.

She let out a sigh of relief and led the pack into the kitchen to check on the puppies and take an ibuprofen. Her headache had started on the drive to Cheri’s this morning and had snowballed into a killer migraine. She needed about a gallon of water, a cold compress, and twelve hours of sleep, in that order. But first she had to relocate five dogs and three puppies to Kerry’s house for the night. The apartment hunt would start tomorrow. Although she’d hated to ask Kerry for a place to crash, especially since Richard had come home from his latest trip, she really didn’t have anywhere else to go on such short notice.

She’d spent her afternoon considering her options, and had been dismayed to realize that Kerry was pretty much it. Kerry’s house, or an extended stay at a hotel for her and a kennel for the dogs. Her phone was full of contact names, and she’d lived in Phoenix for almost her entire life, but somehow she didn’t have a lot of close friends left. Not the kind she could call up and ask for lodging at a moment’s notice. The realization had brought her up short—how had so many people in her life drifted away? Had they drifted, or had she been too consumed with the Cult of Dog to hang on to them?

“Hey.”

Lara startled at the sound of Evan’s voice. She whirled around and hid the bottle of Advil behind her back as if caught committing a crime.

He sat at the kitchen table, his face obscured by the long afternoon shadows. A pair of plastic freezer bags rested next to the napkin holder in front of him. One bag held the waterlogged remains of Mr. Squirrel. The other contained the diamond ring.

“God, you scared me.” She searched his eyes for a clue about what he was feeling, but came up empty. “I thought you were going to soccer tonight.”

“Wasn’t in the mood. Came home early.”

She noticed the empty food bowls, unstacked and lined up across the wall. “You fed the puppies.”

He admitted this with a grudging, almost imperceptible incline of his head. “But that’s not why I skipped soccer,” he informed her. “I skipped soccer to meet the plumber.”

She sat down across the table from him. “Well, it looks like he managed to salvage everything. So that’s good, right?”

“Yeah, the squirrel clogged up the pipe so the ring got stuck, too.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the engagement ring. “I doubt the jeweler’s gonna take it back.”

The dogs went quiet and trooped out to the family room as bitterness and regret enveloped the kitchen.

“Are you okay?” Lara asked softly.

“Not really,” he replied.

She drew a breath, hoping something poignant and insightful would come out. Something that would let him know how much he meant to her, without begging or offering concessions she wasn’t willing to make.

“What now?” She kept her face blank, her voice steady, as though they were discussing the mundane details of their workday. Linus, perhaps sensing her distress, crept back into the kitchen and rested his head in her lap. “I guess I’ll go stay with Kerry.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” he muttered. “You can stay here until you find another place.”

She stared directly at the little diamond time bomb ticking away between them. “It does have to be like that.”

At this, he disengaged completely. He scraped back his chair, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked out to the garage.

Lara heard his car engine start and the garage door opening. The ring was still on the kitchen table.

Her right hand reached out of its own accord, but as her fingers brushed against the plastic bag, she felt pressure on her foot and glanced down to see Maverick sitting next to Linus, staring up at her with soulful brown eyes.

She snatched her hand away, walked up the stairs, and wrestled her suitcases out of the closet.

As soon as she unzipped the first overnight bag, Zsa Zsa hopped in and sat down.

“Don’t worry,” Lara assured her. “You’re all coming with me.”

She piled luggage and disassembled crates on the front stoop, then loaded the dogs into the back of the station wagon with their bones, leashes, food, and toys. The pit bull puppies went in the front seat in a cardboard box. This left exactly five square inches for all of her worldly belongings.

She took the disemboweled squirrel soaked in toilet water and left the diamond ring behind.

* * *

“Oh, honey.” Kerry met her at the front door with a long hug and a glass of red wine. “Make yourself at home.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Lara said. “I’ve got an appointment to look at apartments at seven a.m. tomorrow. This is for one night only, I swear.”

“Don’t worry. My house is your house.” Kerry and her home had both undergone what Lara thought of as “the Richard Transformation”: Kerry had straightened her hair and curled her eyelashes; the dog-friendly bachelorette pad now resembled a Crate and Barrel catalog photo shoot.

A photo shoot that definitely did not include a brokenhearted best friend crashing in the guest room with a bunch of scruffy dogs and cuticles that would make Elizabeth Arden spin in her grave. “Forty-eight hours,” Lara swore. “You won’t even know I’m here.”