1 Lost Under a Ladder (4 page)

“Did you wish on a star or knock on wood?” I asked.

He laughed. “Both, of course. I wouldn’t have been chosen if I hadn’t.”

The wine was finally served, and the rest of our meal was quite pleasant. Other diners came and went, keeping Pluckie’s nose and attention occupied. I enjoyed the company, even though Justin dissembled most of the time when I asked how superstitious the people living here really were.

“Some superstitions are definitely real,” he said as he cut a bite of his rare steak, “or at least people want them to be. But how many, and which superstitions—well, I learn more all the time, but I think people have to decide themselves how much to buy into.”

“Literally,” I said.

“Pardon?”

“‘Buy into.’ Your residents want visitors like me to ‘buy into’ the superstitions a lot, so they can make money.”

“Of course,” he said with a grin. “That’s good for me, too. It pays my salary.”

I did as promised and gave Pluckie a few small bites of my own medium-rare steak. I found it delicious, and I was sure she did, too.

As we were finishing, Justin said, “I went to see Martha at the hospital after you left for your B&B this afternoon.”

I looked at him in surprise. His face seemed a bit grave, which made me feel bad for him. “Really? How’s she doing?”

“She’ll be okay. The initial diagnosis is that she had a mild heart attack precipitated by self-overmedication with some prescription drugs she was already on. She says she didn’t, and I didn’t think she … well, that’s the current thinking.” Then I saw an expression I couldn’t read pass over his face. “She’d like for you to visit her in the hospital when we’re done here.”

“Me?” I knew surprise radiated both from my question and my expression, since he graced me with another of those nice-looking grins of his. But only for a second.

“Yeah. She wants to thank you.” Once more, his look was unreadable.

That should have told me to back off and not go see her. But curiosity swirled through me.

“No need,” I said with a shrug. “I’m just glad she’s okay.”

“But she wants to. Please.”

Okay, there was something I didn’t get here. Something I might not want to get. But my darned curiosity took control. “All right,” I said. “I’ll want to take Pluckie back to the B&B, though. I doubt she’s welcome in the hospital.”

When we were finished and the server brought our bill, I took out my wallet to pay my share.

“I’ve got it,” Justin said. When I started to protest—especially since I refused to consider this a date—he said, “You can get it next time.”

As if there would be a next time. Unless we decided to grab dinner again together during one of the next two evenings, I’d be gone before I had a chance to pay. And if we had dinner together again before I left town—well, that would feel too much like we were dating, even for this short period of time.

Even so, I stopped arguing. In a way, I would be doing him a favor by going to the hospital to see Martha. He’d already said she was like a mother to him, and I’d agreed, somewhat against my better judgment, to visit her. If she’d asked him to bring me, maybe he would get some kind of brownie points with his pseudo-mom by my showing up. Worth the price of my dinner? That was for him to decide.

But what happened was not what I’d anticipated. Not in the least.

I felt sure Justin knew about it, though.

First, we took Pluckie back to the B&B. Soon thereafter, we were with Martha, who was lying in her hospital bed in a blue and white printed gown looking bright eyed, yet fragile.

“It’s so good to see you again, Rory.” Her voice was soft as she held out her hands for me to come close and clasp them. She was in a private room, hooked up to an IV and some monitors.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” I told her.

“Too bad they don’t let dogs in here,” she grumbled. “I want to thank Pluckie, too.”

She knew my name and Pluckie’s. Justin must have told her.

I found out a minute later that wasn’t all he’d told her about me. I also learned why he stood at the door to the room, as if primed to flee—or maybe to keep me from fleeing.

“Rory,” Martha said, still holding my hands. She had an iron grip for a senior lady still sick enough to be a hospital patient. “I know you’re just visiting Destiny, but … well, I need to ask you a favor. A big one.”

She paused, as if waiting for me to inquire what it was. I doubted that I wanted to know. My own heart started thumping so hard that I felt glad I wasn’t hooked up to one of those monitors. Otherwise, some nurse might show up to deal with me, stat.

I definitely had a bad feeling about this. I glanced toward Justin, but he was no help. He appeared to plant himself even more firmly in the doorway.

I gently started pulling my hands away from Martha. “Er—I’m not really good about doing favors,” I said.

“Oh, but you’ll like this one,” she said, then coughed a little, turn
ing her head to the side so her mouth faced her gown-clad shoulder—as if to remind me of her fragility. She picked up a water bottle from the table beside the bed, took a drink, then looked at me.

I inhaled, waiting for what she had to say.

“They tell me I’ll need some rest to fully recuperate,” she continued, “hopefully at home. I’ve got some part-time clerks at my store, but none has much experience or knowledge about running a store with pet products.”

Uh-oh. I suddenly knew where this was heading. “Well, I’m sure they—”

“Justin told me you’re an assistant manager—
manager
,” she said
for emphasis, “at one of those wonderful MegaPets stores.” She smiled,
opening her rheumy brown eyes wide in apparent hope. “I would
be ever so grateful if you’d manage the Lucky Dog Boutique for me while I get better.”

four

I felt my eyes
widen. My heart rate quickened even more, if that was possible.

Stay here? Run Martha’s shop?

But I had a life in L.A. A job that I loved.

A need to stop obsessing about superstitions, then putting Destiny far behind me. Soon.

But I didn’t have the answers I’d come for. Not yet. I might never get them, but the likelihood could be even less if I stayed here for only the few days that I had planned.

My hands were still Martha’s captives. So was my gaze, since I
couldn’t quite tear it away from the pleading expression on her tired,
aged face.

I liked her little boutique. I liked
her
, even though I had just met her, and under especially difficult circumstances.

And if I said no, what were her alternatives?

All that swept through my mind in seconds. I waffled, and that wasn’t like me at all.

“I—I’ll think about it,” I finally said. Even that was enough to turn her expression from fear to relief. “But I need a day or so. Do you have anyone who can manage the store for you tomorrow?”

“My part-time employees don’t know how to really manage the place,” she said, “but they could keep it going for a short while. And oh, my dear, I’m sure that if you just give it a try you’ll love it. It’s such a delightful store, and we’re usually quite busy. Maybe not as busy as a MegaPets, but a lot of townsfolk have pets, and you’ve seen that quite a few tourists, like you, bring their dogs along, too.”

“But I don’t know your systems—inventory control, accounting, anything else—”

“My staff knows the basics, and I can keep an eye on it to make sure it’s all working. My computer system reaches upstairs—that’s where I live. They’ll surely be releasing me from here in the next day or two. If there’s anything I need help with then, I’ll be able to give
you whatever information my helpers don’t have so you can take care
of it for now. And I’ll pay you, of course.” She named a weekly amount
which, though not lush, was certainly adequate.

I tore my glance away. I had to, or I was liable to say yes right then and there. And that would be a mistake.

I had to think this through.

I looked toward Justin. Was that sympathy I saw in his gaze? It couldn’t be. He’d brought me here so I could get put into this quandary.

I should feel furious at him. But I didn’t.

He’d clearly thought he was doing the right thing.

“Tell you what,” I said. “Please have some of your regular employees come in tomorrow. I’ll meet them there. What time do you usually open the store?”

“Ten o’clock.”

My gaze was on her once more. She looked so hopeful that I nearly accepted her challenge—er, invitation—right then.

“Can you call at least one of them tonight, tell him or her to get there at nine-thirty? I’ll come in then and at least see that the store opens on time. I may not stay since I have other things to do tomorrow, but I’ll at least drop in now and then. That’ll give me time to get those other things out of the way—and to decide whether I can stay longer. Okay?”

Martha rose to a slight sitting position, squeezing my hands even
more. “You are so wonderful, Rory. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. And if you decide to stay, you’ll be the absolute kindest person on earth.”

“Is there a superstition for that?” I couldn’t help asking. Doing this should at least get me some kind of pat on the head from the cosmos, or whatever’s out there if superstitions were real, for me to stay for a short while to help this ill lady, right?

“I’ll find one,” Martha said.

_____

A few minutes later, Justin and I left the hospital to walk back to my B&B.

I said nothing till we reached the end of the first block. Then, before we crossed the street, I turned to him. “You set me up,” I accused.

“In a way,” he said, “although I only suspected that was why she wanted to see you.” He didn’t look at all abashed, which didn’t surprise me.

“But what if I do say yes? You don’t know me. How can you—and she—trust me? What if I did something to Martha to injure her to set this all up so I could take over her shop if I want?”

He laughed, and I wanted to kick him. “Did you?” he said, his dark, arched eyebrows raised skeptically over his blue eyes.

“Of course not.”

“That’s what I figured. And I also intend to keep close watch on you if you do decide to help Martha. So don’t you forget that I’m the chief of police around here.” The big, gorgeous smile on his handsome face told me he was joking—at least somewhat. But I had no doubt that if I pinched even a penny from Martha’s cash register he’d hunt me down and have me prosecuted to the full extent of the law.

Or maybe that look was because he knew of some superstition that would ensure that bad luck would rain down upon me forever if I dared to steal from an injured woman who’d received good luck thanks to visits from strange dogs—or whatever.

I asked him.

“Of course there is,” he responded without even blinking. “But it would be bad luck for me to tell you about it.”

The hospital was about six blocks from my B&B. The area we walked through beneath the adequate yet disappointingly regular-looking streetlights wasn’t part of the town’s downtown retail area. It had an atmosphere of more normality than where I’d walked before, where the stores and restaurants were located. Several of the closest modern, multi-storied buildings had signs indicating they
contained doctors’ offices—not surprising. A little farther away, there
were some apartment buildings with almost normal names like Destiny Residences and Welcome Home Apartments.

What, no superstition themes?

On the other hand, this might be where some unbelieving residents lived who were only into superstitions to the extent they could make a profit from them.

Justin was wise enough to discuss neutral topics as we walked along the sidewalks. We talked about dogs—the ones we were currently owned by, mostly, but no hints about canine superstitions. Where he had grown up, which turned out to be near L.A., in Santa Monica. Where I had grown up, also near L.A., in Pasadena.

And soon, there we were, past my car in the parking lot and at the
doorstep of the Rainbow Bed & Breakfast.

“I know you’ll get breakfast here,” Justin said. “The name tells me so. But how about if I meet you at the Lucky Dog at about ten tomorrow morning, after you’ve checked it out and talked to one of Martha’s employees? We can go for coffee and discuss where your thoughts are heading then about staying or not.”

“And if the answer is ‘not’?” I aimed a wry smile toward his nice-looking face that was illuminated by the lights mounted on the building on either side of the horseshoe over the door.

He was smiling, too. “Then I’ll have to convince you, won’t I?”

“I guess you’ll have to
try
,” I riposted. “Goodnight, Chief. See you at ten tomorrow.” At his suggestion, we exchanged phone numbers. I doubted I’d ever use his, but if it made him feel better to call me tomorrow to let me know he wasn’t coming, that was fine.

I turned to head inside but stopped abruptly as he gently took hold of my upper arms and turned me back toward him.

Oh, no. The heated expression in his eyes suggested that he intended to give me a goodnight kiss. My thoughts immediately
flashed guiltily on Warren and why I had come to Destiny. I wasn’t ready for this.

But instead of anything hot and steamy, Justin planted a completely chaste kiss on my forehead.

A surprising whoosh of disappointment rushed through me as he released me and said, “Goodnight, Rory. Sleep well. Oh, and keep track of your dreams here in Destiny. They’re often harbingers of things to come.”

_____

I used my key to open the locked front door. The lobby area was empty
as I walked through and headed upstairs.

I felt utterly exhausted, while at the same time edgy. I doubted I’d fall asleep for a while, so it was a good thing that I needed to take Pluckie for her last walk of the night.

Unsurprisingly, she was waiting for me right inside the door to my room, wriggling her butt eagerly as she wagged her tail and gave a little leap of greeting.

I knelt to hug her. “You know what you did, little girl? You’ve discombobulated my whole life again, this time because you did such a good deed and saved Martha’s life. What do you think I should do?”

Her quiet woof and dash toward the chair over which I’d hung
her leash told me her immediate, if not long-term, answer. It was time
to take her for that walk.

Maybe afterward she’d do something to let me know her opinion of my staying here with her to run a local pet boutique instead of heading home within the next few days.

“Okay, girl.” I snapped her leash on her collar and reached into a totebag to pull out a biodegradable plastic bag to deal with any cleanup during our walk.

I didn’t see anyone else in the hallway or downstairs lobby this time, either. No one was rooting around in the pot of gold, just in case—but I wondered how often patrons did that at night, thinking no one would see them.

Not that our hostess Serina was likely to be foolish enough to use real gold to illustrate the end-of-the-rainbow superstition theme of this B&B.

Pluckie and I headed out the front door. I decided not to go back
in the neutral and not-so-Destiny direction of the hospital but toward the much more interesting downtown area, which was only a couple of blocks away, down the street on which we were staying.

We didn’t run into any other people—or dogs—until we reached
the closest block of Destiny Boulevard. There, despite it being close to ten o’clock at night, quite a few people remained out and about. And, yes, some had dogs with them, too.

As we reached the end of the block, I noticed that the nearest
store, on the corner, was called Wish-on-a-Star Children’s Shop. Its display window wasn’t lit up, but the streetlights along the boulevard—these in the shape of old lanterns, presumably from Gold Rush times—illuminated enough for me to see there were toys and clothes laid out in ways that would undoubtedly entice shoppers to enter when the store was open.

Above them all was a large star-shaped light that zoomed across the top of the window like a shooting star.

I wondered whether the idea was that kids—or adults, too, for that matter—could make a wish on it and have that wish come true. Or at least believe it did.

Logically, that wouldn’t work. First, shooting stars aren’t stars at all but meteors. They aren’t shaped like stars, as this one supposedly
was—although real stars also aren’t in the five or six-pronged shapes
that humans tend to depict them in.

But I was over-thinking this. “What do you say, Pluckie?” I said softly to my dog, who was sniffing the closest wall of the shop. I assumed
there’d been guy dogs who’d left some interesting smells there that distracted her, so I pulled a little on her leash. She looked up at me with her sad brown eyes as if chiding me for interrupting her. But I went on, “Should I make a wish on this star that I make the right decision?”

She seemed to understand that, whatever I was saying, it was a meaningful question to me. She came over, stood on her hind legs, and put her front paws up on me. She gave a decisive snort before stepping back down.

“I take it that’s a yes,” I said.

I walked with her straight to the sidewalk abutting Destiny Boulevard, looked in the window, and waited until the mock shooting star began its descent again.

“I wish,” I muttered to myself, “that I knew what decision to make
about staying in Destiny, and that something tomorrow will make it come clear to me.”

By then, the supposed star had reached the end of its trail and disappeared.

Yet somehow I had a sense that I had done something positive, and that the answer I needed would, in fact, come to me … somehow. In my dreams tonight, as Justin had said?

I needed to go to bed to find out.