Hot Dog (9 page)

I'd only had one litter so far, but I knew what she was saying was true. Financially speaking, the cost of producing a litter of healthy, happy puppies far outweighs the gain.

“What happened?” Peg prodded. “What did the judge do?”

“After much wrangling on both our parts, he awarded Donna to me.” Marian's relief was evident. “But in order to avoid leaving George out in the cold, he gave him pick puppy from Donna's first litter.”

“And that would be Dox?”

“Right.” Marian grimaced. “Of course, you can see how much George wanted the puppy. He no sooner got custody of him than he gave him away.
Gave
him away!” she repeated, in case we'd failed to pick up on the full extent of her outrage the first time.

“You have no idea how worried I've been. George wanted to strike back at me and the judge handed him the perfect means. Thank goodness I divorced that bastard, otherwise I'd probably have ended up killing him.”

Oh Lord, I thought. Don't say that. With my luck, Jill was skulking around outside somewhere, listening. Right this moment, she was probably rubbing her hands with glee.

“I used to be a doormat,” Marian announced, “but no more. The next person who gets in my way had better watch out, because I'll run right over their asses like a Mack truck in low gear.”

I
t was hard to think of a comeback for that on a moment's notice. Wisely, I opted to say nothing.

Not Aunt Peg. “Good for you!” she cried. At least she stopped short of pumping her fist in the air.

“What will you do about Dox?” I asked.

“Do?” Marian asked. “There's nothing I can do. That puppy doesn't belong to me. There are several pages of legally binding documents to attest to that fact. That's why I've been so upset. I hadn't even been able to get any information about him. All I knew was that he had been given away to some poor people's charity like a bundle of old clothes.”

Peter probably would have objected to having his Outreach program and his rather tony auction characterized in such a way, but the point hardly seemed worth arguing. Given away was given away.

At the moment, nobody had any control over Dox's eventual disposition, not even Peter. When the gavel fell, the Dachshund puppy would be delivered to whoever had placed the last bid. It was that simple.

And all at once, it was just that easy.

“Suppose you could buy him back,” I asked. “Would you?”

“Of course,” Marian replied immediately. Her eyes skimmed around the small room. “Which is not to say that my finances are unlimited. But yes, I'd give up a great deal to have him returned to me. Considering how much trouble I had getting Donna in whelp, there's a very real chance she may never have another litter. It would mean a tremendous amount to me, and to the Tulip Tree line, to have Dox back.”

“Why don't you just go to Peter's auction and bid on him?”

“But—” Marian started to protest, then stopped, looking flummoxed.

For a moment, Aunt Peg looked equally startled. Then she began to smile.

“I can't imagine why I didn't think of that,” she said. “You've fulfilled your end of the bargain. You produced a puppy and delivered it to your ex-husband. It was his choice to give the puppy away. Surely there's nothing in the agreement that prevents you from getting involved again after the fact.”

“Now that you mention it,” Marian said slowly, “I don't believe there is.”

Bingo, I thought. It was a great feeling.

“I don't suppose you could leave him with me until the night of the event?”

“I wish I could. But for the moment he belongs to the community center. I've been charged with his care, but I certainly don't have the authority to place him with someone else.”

“Don't worry.” Aunt Peg leaned over and patted Marian's arm. “Melanie will do right by Dox. And if, after the auction, George's attorney should have occasion to look into the proceedings, he'll find that everything happened in a way that was open and aboveboard.”

So there we were, the three of us, feeling utterly pleased with ourselves. One problem solved, I thought. Or at least nearly so.

Overconfidence; it will get you every time.

 

 

I stopped by Joey Brickman's house on the way home to pick up Davey from his play date. Joey's mother and I have been friends since our sons were toddlers; and unlike my meddling relatives, Alice has
not
spent the last few months asking me what I intend to do about Sam. Which was why the first words out of her mouth caught me by surprise.

“So I guess you and Sam have patched things up?” Alice said as Davey ran to find his shoes, his jacket, his backpack, and anything else he might have left lying around the Brickmans' home.

“What makes you say that?”

Her hand waved down the road in the direction of my house. “He's down there waiting for you.”

“He is?”

“Yup. I saw that snazzy new SUV he's got parked in your driveway when the kids were out riding their scooters on the sidewalk.”

The new SUV was a BMW X-5. Actually, according to Sam, the BMW people call it a sports activity vehicle, though the distinction was lost on me. The summer before, Sam had unexpectedly inherited a bundle of money. As far as I could tell, the only outward manifestation of his new financial status was that he'd traded in his Chevy Blazer for the BMW.

Alice studied my expression. “You weren't expecting him, were you?”

“Not exactly.”

Once Sam wouldn't have thought anything of dropping by my house without an invitation. But since he'd taken his six-month sabbatical, things had been more formal between us, perhaps even a bit strained. Granted, I'd been the one responsible for the cooling of our relationship, but Sam had followed my cue.

So what was I to make of this surprise appearance? Only one way to find out.

“Come on, Davey,” I called down the hallway in the direction that he and Joey had disappeared. Sometimes Alice and I talked so long that the kids simply went back to playing. “We've got to go.”

“Not that I'm doubting Davey's word,” she said while we waited for the boys to show up, “but did Bob really buy him a pony?”

“He really did.” The Brickmans had been out of town the weekend before and had missed the big arrival. “A palomino Welsh Pony named Willow. She's actually pretty cute, if you're into stuff like that. Does Joey want to come and take a ride?”

“Joey, no. If it doesn't have wheels and an engine, he's not interested. Carly's the one who's horse-crazy. She's been pumping Davey for information all afternoon.”

Carly was Joey's little sister, a thoughtful and engaging five-year-old who'd started kindergarten in the fall. Like her mother, she was slightly plump and almost always smiling. I knew she'd fall in love with Willow on sight.

“Consider yourselves invited,” I said. “I'm sure Davey would be happy to share his pony. To tell the truth, even though he's having fun, he'd probably prefer something with wheels himself.”

The child in question came barreling down the hallway. His shoes were untied, his shirt untucked, his backpack dragging on the floor behind him. Situation normal. It was time to go find out why Sam was sitting in my driveway.

The answer to that turned out to be short and sweet.

“I'm sitting out here,” Sam said, “because I don't have a key to your house.”

Nothing like a man who takes questions literally.

Once upon a time Sam had had a key. While he was gone, I'd had the locks changed. It didn't take a genius to decipher that message, and Sam had gotten my point loud and clear. Now, presumably, he was hoping I'd get his.

“Would you like one?” I stopped beside the BMW and squinted up at him.

Sam was a good half-foot taller than I, and the setting sun slanted into my eyes. I wanted to see his expression as he thought about all the things the question implied. Maybe the look on his face, rather than his words, would tell me where Sam thought our relationship was going.

His expression gave nothing away, however, and neither did his answer. “Only if you'd feel comfortable with that.”

Yada, yada, yada.

Ever since Sam's return, it seemed as though all our conversations were filled with near-misses and evasions. There was much we needed to talk about, yet somehow none of it was getting said.

Sam had stepped back into my life with a wedding ring. As far as he was concerned, a two-carat diamond in a black velvet box expressed everything he wanted to say. Not me. I wanted to hear the words: the excuses, the apologies, all of it. I wanted him to make me understand why he'd needed to leave. So far, it hadn't happened.

“I'll think about it,” I told him.

“Do that. In the meantime, I stopped by to see if I could take my two favorite people out to dinner.”

“Out?” I turned around and walked back to my car. After greeting Sam, Davey and the Poodles had run on ahead into the house. Dox, however, was still sitting in the Volvo in his crate. “We just got back. Davey's been at Joey's house, and I've been running around since school got out. Come on in, and we'll eat here instead.”

“Sounds good to me.” Sam looked at the crate curiously as I lifted it out. “Who's that?”

“Dox, my Aunt Rose's auction puppy. I started telling you about him at the show, remember?”

“Sure. Let me get that.” Sam reached over and took the crate out of my hands. “What's he doing here?”

“I'm going to be taking care of him for a few weeks. It's kind of a long story.”

“Is anything that involves your family
not
a long story?”

Now that he mentioned it, no.

“I'll fill you in over dinner,” I said.

At the foot of the front steps I paused and glanced toward the street. Over the last few days, checking my back had become a habit. And with good reason. A couple houses up, a light blue Mazda was sitting by the curb. This time Jill was in the driver's seat.

“Go on in,” I said to Sam. “I'll be there in just a minute.”

The reporter rolled down her window as I approached. She offered a tentative smile. “Surely you can't think I'm bothering you. I'm not even parked in front of your house. I don't know why you can't just ignore me.”

“I don't know why you can't just ignore
me
. Where's Rich?” Knowing these two, I figured I'd better check in case he was hiding in the bushes, hoping to shoot some juicy footage through the windows of my house.

“Rich went home.” Jill sounded displeased with her partner's lack of dedication. “He got bored.”

One down, one to go, I thought happily.

“That's not surprising, considering that I lead a pretty boring life.”

“Not all the time,” Jill said determinedly.

This whole thing was beginning to feel a touch surreal. Looking past her into the car, I saw that Jill had outfitted herself for a long wait. A well-creased paperback sat open on the front seat, along with a cell phone and a thermos of hot coffee. From the looks of things, she was not about to give up any time soon.

“You can pack it in for tonight,” I said. “I'm home, I'm going inside and I'm not coming out again. Trust me, there won't be anything for you to see.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Jill's smile was sunny. “Run along, then. Don't let me keep you from Sam.”

I'd started to turn away, but her casual use of his name brought me up short. “Do you know Sam?”

“Sure. We met Sunday, at the dog show.”

As I recalled, she'd asked about Sam but I hadn't introduced them. Nor had I seen them talking. So why did she sound so chummy all of a sudden?

“Have you spoken to him since?”

“Yes.” Jill paused, then added, “He's a lot friendlier than you are.”

“Is he?” It was hard to talk through teeth that were gritted, but I managed. “How did you know how to get in touch with him?”

“That part was easy. Especially when you're a reporter, like I am. He was showing a Poodle at the dog show, so his name and address were in the catalog. I got his phone number from information.”

“And he talked to you on the phone?”

“Why wouldn't he? Not everyone has hangups about the media like you do. Most people want their fifteen minutes of fame, and if I'm the one who can give it to them, so much the better.”

Sam wouldn't have talked to her about me, I thought. He couldn't have. He wouldn't betray me like that.

But then again, why should I be so sure? If I'd learned anything in the past year it was that I didn't know Sam nearly as well as I thought I did.

Eve met me at the front door as I walked into the house. I followed the sound of Sam's and Davey's voices to the kitchen. They were debating the merits of spaghetti with meat sauce over macaroni and cheese with hamburger mixed in. My two gourmets.

“Hey,” said Sam. “Faith and Dox are out back, and Davey's planning our menu. Want me to cook?”

“Sure.” Maybe it would be easier to talk if we were both busy. “Davey, don't you have some homework you ought to be starting?”

“I was going to help Sam make dinner.”

“How about if we do that another time?” Sam reached out and ruffled my son's hair. “I wouldn't want you falling behind in your schoolwork on account of me. We'll call you when everything's ready.”

“Okay,” Davey agreed. He slipped down off his chair, walked down the hall, picked up his backpack, and carried it up the steps to his room.

“Is everything all right?” Sam asked as I went over to the refrigerator and got out a couple of beers. He already had an onion, a green pepper, and a box of fresh mushrooms on the counter. I guessed that meant we were having spaghetti.

“I don't know.” I set his bottle of Sam Adams next to the cutting board on the counter. “Did you talk to Jill Prescott about me?”

Sam looked up. “Briefly.”

“Why?”

“She called and asked me a couple of questions—”

“And you answered them?” My voice rose.

“Actually, I told her if she wanted information she should call and ask you.”

I wanted to believe him. I wasn't sure I did. “She said you were very friendly.”

“I was. But that doesn't mean I was going to allow her to invade your privacy. I saw how you felt about her interview idea last weekend at the show. I didn't tell her anything you wouldn't have told her yourself.”

“I wouldn't have told her anything!”

“And I pretty much didn't, either,” Sam's tone was soothing. “Ask her yourself. Was that who you were talking to outside?”

I nodded. “Ever since Sunday, she and Rich have been following me around. Waiting for me to stumble onto a murder or something. It's really creepy. I feel like people are watching me all the time. The whole thing is making me nuts.”