Emily & Einstein (16 page)

“I’m not jumping ship. I’ve known Hedda since I was a child.”

Which was true.

Her eyes narrowed and she tapped a bright red nail against her desk. “So you aren’t considering leaving?”

“Absolutely not.”

Also true.

I could tell she debated my answer.

“Tatiana, if I was looking for a new job do you really think I’d interview at Michael’s—where everyone and their brother would know about it?”

“You’re right. And I consider myself a good judge of character. You might be struggling right now, but you’re not stupid.” She nodded. “Maybe your friendship with Hedda will serve us well in the future, what with young adult novels being all the rage now.” A smile pulled at her lips. “Fine. We’re done here.” I was dismissed.

But at the door she stopped me. “The next time Hedda calls you, I expect you to let me know.”

einstein

chapter sixteen

It is said that all domestic dogs are descended from wolves. Pack animals. Brutal. I might have liked to be a wolf, though the thought of fighting for my place in the
Canis lupus
hierarchy gave me pause. If climbing the ladder in New York society was tough, in the wolf pack it could be a killer. Literally. So until I was relieved of Einstein’s body, I didn’t see that I had any choice but to throw in my lot with the domesticated pack I had with Emily.

During the day I came and went with the dog walker. Greta or maybe Gretchen, Grace, whatever, picked me up at noon and took me along with six other dogs to Central Park. While I had always loved the park, being there as a dog attached to a gaggle of odiferous canines and never let off-leash was a misery I cannot fully describe. But it beat spending all day alone in the apartment while Emily was at the office. At night, my wife took her determined baking to new heights and ignored the work she brought home with her. Even I couldn’t deny she was breaking apart, the little pieces of her circling down the proverbial drain.

I was debating how to solve this new wrinkle in my life when disaster struck. Emily’s sister arrived. And we know how I felt about Jordan Barlow. She might have hated me because of my family’s wealth, but I hated her just because. Well, just because, and for the fact that whenever Jordan rolled into town she never failed to disrupt my life.

“Hello!” she called out, though I knew the doorman would have told her Emily wasn’t at home. Which meant she had charmed the doorman in order to get the key. That, or Emily had added Jordan’s name to the front desk’s list of people who could access the apartment—something that, as Sandy, I had expressly forbidden.

“Emily?” she called again.

I stood in the shadows as she closed the front door behind her, pocketing the key. With no more than a twitch of my nose I detected the smell of some simple, lemony soap or light lemony perfume with an overlay of marijuana. She had the same white blond hair as Emily, though even longer, the ends touching the middle of her back. She wore layers of T-shirts, a long gauzy skirt, and flip-flops despite the relative cold.

I stepped out of the shadows, making my sister-in-law jump.

“Whoa, who are you?”

I growled, mostly because I could. As a man I’d had to pretend to be nice to her, even if we both knew the truth. Not that the growl intimidated her. Jordan laughed. Yes, laughed.

“Damn, you are one ugly mutt.”

A lesser being would have been devastated. I turned my backside to her and headed for the library and my favorite leather chair.

“Pissy, are we?” She chuckled and tossed her duffel bag on the floor.

She passed me in the gallery doorway. Because I didn’t have anything better to do, I forgot the chair and followed her into the kitchen. She went straight to the refrigerator.

“What’s up with this? All Emily has in here is cake and pie. There’s no real food. Emily always has real food.”

In the pantry all she found was some old cereal along with cupcakes, croissants, and an assortment of oatmeal, chocolate chip, and sugar cookies.

She looked at me. “Really, what is up with Emily?”

Like she expected me to answer.

Grabbing a handful of cookies, Jordan started walking around the apartment. She made a few calls, none of them to my wife, read a bit, slept a lot, then woke up and read some more. She had fallen asleep yet again, this time on the sofa, a book open against her chest, when I heard the front door open and close.

I galloped to the gallery. Emily appeared surprised when she saw the canvas duffel on the floor, then tears started pooling in her eyes. For weeks after my accident she hadn’t cried at all. Since the journals, she cried at the drop of a hat.

One more thing I refused to feel guilty about.

“Jordan?”

I heard the book flop to the floor, then the mind-numbing racket of the girl’s rubber thongs slapping toward us.

“Emily!” she squealed.

At the sound of Jordan’s voice, the darkness in Emily’s eyes faded and for the first time in weeks I could see a spark of light.

“Jordie,” Emily said, hugging her little sister. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would have been here when you arrived.”

“I didn’t know when I’d get here. I hooked up with a flight attendant who got me on the plane with him. I pretended to be his girlfriend and rode for practically nothing.”

Emily held her at arm’s length and gave her a look.

“Hey, those corporate airline thieves steal from the public every day. The least they can do is help a girl who’s trying to do a little good in the world get home from South America. Believe me, I don’t feel guilty because I pretended to be in love with a gay guy.”

Emily shook her head and smiled. “I didn’t say a word.”

“I saw that look.”

“Jordan, I gave you no look—” Emily cut herself off. “This is no way to start. Come on, I want to hear all about Homes for Women Heroes.”

I am almost certain my sister-in-law blanched. But she shook it away before my wife ever noticed.

“I’m taking a break from Heroes right now,” Jordan said.

“A break? But you just started with them.”

“It’s no big deal. People do it all the time. I’m … going to talk to WomenFirst. Figured I’d give Mom’s old organization a try.”

“Jordan?”

I barked. “Hello. I need to take care of business.” That was our schedule. Emily came home and took me out. Already Jordan was disrupting things.

“Oh, sorry, E.”

“E?”

“Short for Einstein. I need to take him out.”

Jordan looked at me. “I can do it. You just got home.”

I couldn’t have been more surprised when Emily actually let her. I growled my concern.

“Don’t worry, Einstein,” my sister-in-law said. “I promise to bring you back.”

Though I swear she snickered.

Emily glanced from me to Jordan. “Don’t tell me you and Einstein aren’t getting along.”

“Yeah, can you believe it? It’s just like me and that dick face, Sandy.”

Emily froze. Quite frankly, I froze. I knew Jordan didn’t like me, but to say it out loud to her sister no more than a couple of months after I supposedly died?

“Geez, Em, I’m sorry. Who cares that I thought he was an ass? You loved him.” Jordan rubbed her sister’s arm. “I wasn’t thinking.”

As promised, Jordan didn’t take me to the depths of the park, let me off the leash, and hope I ran away. I took care of business, and when we returned to the apartment Emily had called our favorite delivery place for dinner.

“How long do you plan to stay?” Emily asked.

“I’m not sure. Depends on what happens with WomenFirst. Though I better find something fast. I could use the money.”

Emily stopped toying with her soup. “Is that why you’re here?”

Jordan gave her a tight smile. “No, Emily. I am not here for money.” Then she relaxed. “Though I was thinking, maybe I could walk Einstein for you while you’re at work.”

“No!” I barked.

They ignored me.

“I assume someone takes him out during the day.”

Emily eyed her sister, though she didn’t answer. They ate and talked about nothing of consequence—which was insane since Jordan had been out of the country for the last year and Emily had lost her husband. Seemed to me they had some things to talk about.

It was while they were cleaning up the kitchen that Emily agreed to call the dog walker and cancel.

Great. Just great.

For three days I dealt with the situation, though barely. One, Jordan was a slob of an unimaginable magnitude. After her own quick trip to the grocery store, she left glass rings on the tables, cracker crumbs on the sofa, mustard stains on my fine linen napkins. Then two, Emily alternated between a deep depression and a manic energy when she did her sneak-a-glance-out-the-door routine, then bolt to take me out in the mornings before work. And three, despite the fact that I had helped Emily, yes helped, by getting her back to work, there had been no further contact from the old man.

The panic returned, growing each day that passed with no discernable progress made toward getting me the hell out of this wiry little body. I panted, drool dripping out of my mouth unabated, making me panic even more.

With Jordan there, Emily didn’t come into the kitchen at night and curl up beside me. Had my pride not still been intact, I would have crept into her bedroom and curled up next to her. Without me realizing it, she had kept my panic from getting the better of me.

On the fourth day after Jordan arrived, the panic had shifted into a sense of impending doom. Something was going to happen. I could feel it.

“Jordan,” Emily called through the guest room door on her way to work. “Will you take Einstein for an extra long walk today? He seems kind of agitated. I think he needs more exercise.”

“Sure, whatever,” Jordan mumbled.

As soon as the front door shut behind my wife, I heard the rustle of sheets as Jordan rolled over and went back to sleep. I tried to do the same. I concentrated on breathing in and out. Everything was going to be all right, I told myself. The old man would be back. He would see that Emily was going to work regularly. Then he would fix this. He would.

I stretched out in my favorite slant of sun that came in through the east windows, but it felt too warm on my fur. Next I tried the kitchen floor, followed by the bathroom, lying on the cool tiles, smelling Emily’s cheap shampoo. As a man I had detested it, but as a dog I thought it smelled like heaven.

But that morning nothing helped me go back to sleep.

By noon I needed to go out. Einstein was old, after all, and holding his bladder wasn’t my strong suit. Jordan was still asleep, no sound whatsoever coming from inside her room. So I barked, then barked again.

Eventually she groaned. “Go away.”

Even more barking. I added some growling and a howl for good measure. The howl was so exquisitely done that my instincts took over and made me leap when Jordan suddenly yanked open the door.

“Shut up, you freak!”

At least she was awake.

My head came back at the smell of her. With a mere twitch of my nose I determined she had been out with friends the night before … males … drinking, smoking pot, then … I cocked my head in analysis … eating cheap Mexican food in the early morning hours.

Before she could slam the door in my face, I picked up the leash in my mouth and wagged it at her.

She didn’t look happy. “Jerk.”

“Slut.”

“Asshole.”

“Harpy.”

She glared at me and did a little growling of her own, but she did it while throwing on a gauzy skirt and a T-shirt.

As soon as we were out the door and down the elevator, the fresh air hitting my nose, I felt relief. I was sure I’d feel even better in the park. Jordan tended to let me off the leash. But no sooner did I take care of business then she started dragging me back inside.

“Hey!” I planted my paws on the sidewalk and tugged back toward the park.

“No way,” Jordan snapped. “I am totally late.”

I stared at her in incredulity. “
You
are late? What about me? What about my extra long walk?” I barked.

“Yeah, yeah, take a downer. I have better things to do than hang out in the park with you today.”

I found myself back upstairs and alone, Jordan having inhaled a bowl of cereal and raced out the door with a bagel in her hand.

I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. It felt like I was suffocating. The panic surged, ticking through me like a bomb. I tried counting. I took another run at sleeping. In the gallery, I gave in to an urge I had fought since I woke up as Einstein: I chased my tail. I ran in tight, mad circles until I was so dizzy I tipped over on my side. I went to the window hoping the people below would provide a distraction. But I only saw men who were men, enjoying their day while I was stuck as a dog.

At this point I flipped.

It was strange how this dog’s body could take over despite the best efforts of my superior mind. If I wasn’t on constant guard the primal portion of me leapt out and took over. When one of my overactive senses was engaged, whether it was taste, smell, or the sight of anything that moved mysteriously, this old body had to leap up, investigate, bite, chew. If my mind didn’t have my body under complete and firm control, I had no ability to stop myself from taking action, no ability to sit back calmly and assess.

That day the primal part took over when my wretchedly overactive nose caught a whiff of something. I scrambled into the kitchen to investigate and found a box of Lucky Charms along with a half-eaten bowl of cereal Jordan had left on the table.

Just so we are clear, as a man I detested store-bought cereal. As a dog, however, just like cheap drugstore shampoo, the sugar-filled cereal smelled like heaven. I found myself climbing up onto the kitchen chair, then struggling to get myself onto the table. Nothing was going to keep me from my prize.

Once there, I sidestepped the opened box, crouched over Jordan’s forgotten bowl, and proceeded to lick it clean, lapping up the remnants of milk and the soggy rainbow of marshmallows.

Unfortunately there wasn’t much left, just enough to get my senses kicked into overdrive. Much like Pavlov’s dog, I started salivating, the need for more of those horrid Lucky Charms suffusing my body. So I did the only thing I could. I upended the box, cereal spilling across my fine wood table. I could hardly contain myself as I scarfed up every last puffy marshmallow and crunchy nugget.