Live and Let Growl (9 page)

Five minutes passed, and then ten. The Briard judging ended. Great Danes took their place. Miss Ellie continued to spectate from the sidelines. She didn't exactly have her back to me, but the way that she'd shifted her shoulders so that I could barely even see her profile, seemed meant to act as a deterrent to conversation.

Maybe I'd misheard what that woman had said, I thought. Or maybe Miss Ellie had simply needed a break from the press of people that had eddied around us almost continuously since we'd first entered the room.

Here down at the end of the auditorium, things were much quieter. And now that the initial flurry of greetings had passed, the remaining exhibitors around us seemed less inclined to make overtures in our direction. I couldn't help but notice, however, that it didn't stop them from staring. And occasionally pointing and whispering.

I still felt the pulsing hum of the dog show telegraph eddying around us. But all at once, I was a lot less certain about what it might be saying.

I edged over to Miss Ellie's side, close enough that she had no choice but to acknowledge me. “Do you like Great Danes?” I asked when she tipped her head in my direction.

“I do indeed. Majestic dogs. Wonderful animals.”

The same could be said for any one of several dozen breeds, I thought cynically.

“We can stay here as long as you like,” I said. “But I just wanted to let you know that the Mini Poodles should be in the ring by now. Toys will be judged after that, with Standards this afternoon. I told a friend of mine that you were coming today. He was excited about seeing you again.”

“Oh?” Miss Ellie's gaze narrowed fractionally. “Who is that?”

“Crawford Langley.”

“Crawford's
here?
” Her expression eased. Indeed her whole demeanor relaxed. “I haven't seen Crawford in years.”

“He's looking forward to renewing your acquaintance,” I said.

“Dear man,” Miss Ellie replied with a smile. “Of course he is.”

And just that quickly, the majestic Great Danes were forgotten.

“What are we waiting around here for?” Miss Ellie asked. “Let's go see some Poodles!”

Chapter 9

O
nce again, we crossed the large room. And once again couldn't help but be aware of the speculative glances that Miss Ellie drew as we walked through the crowds.

If she noticed those chilly looks, I saw no sign of it. Instead, with queenlike hauteur, Miss Ellie only paid attention to the abundance of complimentary attention that came her way. Several times she paused to return a smile or a wave. Once she even blew a kiss to an exhibitor holding a Bloodhound. The man looked thoroughly delighted to be the recipient of her regard.

Miss Ellie might have been deliberately oblivious to the mixed reception her appearance at the dog show had generated, but I most definitely was not. I found the situation puzzling, and more than a little curious. Which made me want to do some probing.

“You certainly know a lot of people here,” I mentioned as I strode along in Miss Ellie's wake.

“Does that surprise you?” she inquired archly. “If so, it shouldn't. I spent the better part of three decades immersed in this world.”

Miss Ellie had turned to look at me over her shoulder as she spoke. That was why she didn't see the pale, round-shouldered man who'd stepped into her path. He was holding a Newfoundland close to his side on a short leash. When Miss Ellie went barreling into the pair, the big black dog got caught between them. It yelped loudly in protest.

“Oh my!” Miss Ellie came bouncing back into me. I reached out and grasped her shoulders to steady her on her feet.

“Sorry,“ the man snapped automatically.

His hand reached down to shift the Newfoundland back out of the way. Then he glanced up and saw Miss Ellie's face. The man's eyes widened. His jaw went slack.

Miss Ellie looked every bit as surprised as he was.

“Arthur?” she said. Her hand seemed to lift of its own accord. She reached out toward the man tremulously.

The man ignored the overture. Instead he looked Miss Ellie in the eye, gave his leash a sharp tug, and spun away. Within seconds, both he and the Newf had disappeared into the crowd. Miss Ellie remained rooted to the spot, staring after them.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Arthur,” she repeated, sounding bemused.

“Who is he?”

Miss Ellie gave her head a small shake and began to walk once more. “An old friend.”

“If you don't mind my saying so, he didn't look particularly friendly.”

“Oh please,” Miss Ellie snapped. “I thought you said you showed dogs.”

“I do.”

“Then surely you know how things work. Half this room is filled with disgruntled former
friends
. This is a competition, not a playground. And the big winner is never everybody's favorite person. I should hope you've figured that out by now.”

Well, sure, I thought. I wasn't an idiot.

“But it's been years since you've competed against any of these people.” Not just Newf-guy, I thought, but also the other exhibitors who'd stared and whispered. “How can animosity that old still matter now?”

“Welcome to the South,” Miss Ellie said.

“Excuse me?”

“People have long memories in Kentucky. And we hold grudges even longer.” Absurdly she sounded almost proud of that fact. “It's the way we're brought up. It's what we know how to do.”

“Like the Hatfields and the McCoys?”

I was mostly kidding in my reference to that famous Kentucky feud but Miss Ellie nodded anyway.

“Now you're catching on,” she told me.

As if that was a good thing.

It was definitely time to head to friendlier surroundings. Thank goodness we were on our way to Poodle territory.

* * *

Miss Ellie and I had missed the beginning of the Mini judging. By the time we arrived at ringside, Puppy Bitches were already in. I started to look around for a couple of seats, but abandoned that plan when I realized that Miss Ellie had no intention of sitting still.

Instead she started by staking out a prime spot by the rail. Standing with her feet braced slightly apart and her fists propped on her hips, Miss Ellie stared at the puppy entry in the ring. There were three for her to look at, including the black bitch whose topknot I'd watched Terry set earlier.

Midcompetition with Crawford, the puppy looked perfect now. No one would ever suspect that he and his assistant had been rushing around earlier trying to get everything done. But that was part of Crawford's genius. He always made it look easy.

“You're trimming them differently now than in my day,” Miss Ellie commented.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“It's a more stylized look. I like it.”

As well she should, I thought. Poodle presentation had come a long way.

“Crawford has the puppy in the middle,” I told her.

The judge had completed his individual examinations. Now he'd stepped back to take one last look at the line of puppies before pinning the class.

“So I see,” Miss Ellie replied. “He won't win this one.”

“No?” I said, surprised.

Where I came from, Crawford almost always won everything. Even so, expecting him to do so here was a knee-jerk reaction on my part. But since we'd just arrived at ringside, I hadn't yet had time to form an actual opinion about the Minis in front of us.

Apparently Miss Ellie was like Aunt Peg, however. When it came to sorting out Poodles, it didn't take her any time at all to know what was what.

“Not if that judge has any sense,” she said, keeping her voice low as ringside etiquette dictated. “The puppy at the back of the line is a much better Mini.”

Aldous Connor, the day's judge, agreed with her. He wasted no time in reversing the order of his line and pinning the class that way. Less than a minute passed before Crawford had stepped out of the ring, handed off the puppy and its red ribbon to Terry, then reentered with his Open Bitch. This time, Bertie and a cream bitch were in the ring with him, as well as six other assorted Mini bitches.

“Nice entry,” Miss Ellie said, running a practiced eye down the line. “There's plenty of quality to choose from in there.”

“There are majors in all three varieties,” I told her. “The entire weekend has great Poodle judges so they drew entries from all over. Aunt Peg is judging Poodles on Sunday. I know she can't wait.”

“I may have to come back for that.” Miss Ellie smiled. Now that we were surrounded by her own breed, she seemed to have relaxed. “That will be well worth watching.”

Just as it had in the other parts of the room we'd visited, awareness of Miss Ellie's presence spread quickly around the perimeter of the ring. In no time at all, there was a crush of exhibitors and spectators flocking to her side to pay court. Once again, I found myself shunted aside in favor of my vastly more interesting companion.

Not that that was a hardship. While Miss Ellie was busy greeting long-lost friends and talked about old times, I got to relax and enjoy watching the judging.

Crawford won the Open Class and then went Winners Bitch. Bertie's bitch who was behind him in second, was Reserve Winners. She would get no points for that, but I knew that Bertie would be pleased anyway. It was a nice placement in a big entry. Not only that, but today's win would finish Crawford's bitch, so for the rest of the weekend she would be out of Bertie's way.

A Midwest handler won the Variety with a gorgeous Mini Poodle whom I'd only seen previously in magazine and online pictures. Crawford's class bitch was Best of Opposite Sex. Then the Minis were finished and the first Toy Poodle class filed into the ring. By the time Toy judging was halfway done, I had found an empty chair near the in-gate and taken a seat. Still surrounded by well-wishers, Miss Ellie didn't even notice that I was gone.

“So that's the famous Ellie Gates Wanamaker,” Terry said, coming up behind me. He nodded toward the side of the ring. “Has she been running you ragged all morning?”

While Crawford was in the ring with one Toy Poodle, Terry was in charge of minding the rest of the handler's entry. He also held armbands and hairspray, and kept the dogs ring-ready so that Crawford could hand off one Poodle and grab another with minimal turnaround time.

Terry was holding two Toy Poodles, one cradled gently under each arm. The silver was Crawford's specials dog. He would compete later for Best of Variety. The other was a black puppy who had already lost in his class. Since it didn't matter anymore if his coat got mussed, I held out my hands.

Terry passed the puppy over gratefully. The little dog was a charmer. He licked my face, then lay down and settled happily in my lap.

“It's been a whirlwind,” I told him. “I think Miss Ellie knows half the people here.”

“I'm not surprised,” Terry replied. “I Googled her after you left. The Gatewood name came up in the same context as Standard Poodle kennels like Alekai and Rimskittle. Her dogs really must have been something special.”

“I'm sure they were,” I agreed. “And Miss Ellie herself is quite a character. It's been interesting walking around with her. Not everybody is happy to see her here.”

Terry grinned wickedly. “She sounds like my kind of woman. Now I can't wait to meet her.”

“Your kind of woman,” I scoffed. “What kind is that?”

“The kind with secrets, of course. I know all about these old Southern families. They all have skeletons in their attics.”

“If Miss Ellie does have any secrets,” I said, “I doubt that she'll be divulging them to you.”

“That's only because you underestimate the full extent of my charms.”

“I've seen your charms,” I said with a laugh. “But I've also seen Miss Ellie in action. She is one tough lady. You may have met your match.”

“Oooh,” Terry trilled. “I hope so!”

He set the silver Toy down on a nearby table and got out his comb and his can of spray. Terry smoothed down the Poodle's long, luxurious ear hair and made a few quick repairs to its topknot. When Crawford exited the ring a minute later, handler and assistant switched dogs and armbands with the efficiency of a much-practiced maneuver.

Then Crawford was gone again, and Terry was back at my side.

“Brace yourself,” he said happily. “Here she comes!”

Once again I witnessed the indefatigable power of Miss Ellie's stature. People watched her as she approached. They stepped back to remove themselves from her path. Then their eyes followed her after she'd passed.

Terry was grinning like an idiot. As I got to my feet beside him, he leaned in close and said, “Oh my God, I love her already. She's like Scarlett O'Hara, only all grown up. You must introduce me! And for heaven's sake, make me sound debonair and interesting.”

It wasn't difficult. Indeed all I had to do was perform minimal introductions, then get out of the way and let Terry handle the rest. By the time Crawford came out of the ring and joined us, Terry and Miss Ellie were already halfway to being best friends.

Belatedly I realized that Crawford was holding not only the silver Toy but also the purple and gold Best of Variety ribbon. He'd won the whole thing and none of us had even noticed. Crawford juggled the Toy Poodle to one side, wrapped an arm around Miss Ellie's shoulders, and pulled her in close for a warm hug.

“How many years has it been?” he asked. “We've missed you on the East Coast.”

“Too many,” Miss Ellie replied. “I see that now. I shouldn't have stayed away for so long.”

“What about your Standard Poodles?” Crawford wanted to know. “Do you have any left?”

“I'm afraid not,” Miss Ellie told him. “I lost the last one ten years ago.”

“No problem,” Terry said. “Crawford can set you up and get you started again anytime you want.”

“My, you do move fast.” Miss Ellie arched a brow in Terry's direction. “I can see I'm going to have to keep my eye on you.”

Terry inclined his head in a small bow. “The feeling is entirely mutual.”

“I'd love to have the chance to catch up properly,” said Crawford. “But we have Standards right after lunch, so we're a little pressed for time. Maybe when the judging is finished for the day?”

“Of course, you're busy,” Miss Ellie acknowledged. “And I wouldn't dream of getting in the way. Go tend to your Standards. I'll come and find you later. In the meantime, I think I'm going to let Melanie feed me lunch.”

Terry held out his free hand and I gave him back the Toy puppy. Handler and assistant left for their setup. Miss Ellie watched the two men go. Her expression looked almost wistful.

“I've been away for so many years,” she said. “And yet in some ways it feels like no time at all.”

“Were you and Crawford close?” I asked as we made our way to the food concession.

“No, not close exactly.” Miss Ellie seemed to be considering her words with care. “Crawford and I were
competitors,
not friends. We had a relationship built on mutual respect. And mutual esteem. I never underestimated Crawford, not even for a single minute. And I believe he felt the same way about me.”

The two of them must have had a
Clash of the Titans
thing going on, I thought. Too bad I'd come along a dozen years too late. That would have been fun to watch.

“And that young man with Crawford?”

“Terry,” I supplied.

“He's a bit of a hot pistol.”

“You could say that,” I agreed with a laugh.

Terry would adore hearing himself described that way. I'd have to make sure to tell him about it later.