Her smiled faded as she looked into Shadow’s upturned face. “Sometimes it’s necessary, or even merciful. But it’s a part of the job I’ve never enjoyed. There hasn’t been one in this office since I went off on my own. When I worked with my ex-husband, Martin, I always let him take care of that side of the business. He didn’t mind. Maybe that should have given me a hint of things to come.” Jane raised her eyes to look at Sunny. “I saw you over at the bar in the Redbrick last night. You probably saw how things have worked out with Martin these days.”
“That was Martin?” Sunny said in surprise. “He’s very good-looking.” The words came out before Sunny really thought about them. Her teeth clicked together as she shut her mouth a little too late.
Jane’s lips quirked as she ran a finger from between Shadow’s ears all the way down his back. “Yeah, Martin’s a handsome guy, and an excellent vet—but a piss-poor excuse for a human being.”
She gave Sunny an embarrassed smile when she looked at her again. “He could charm the pants off anyone, and he certainly did it with me. We were married less than a year after I apprenticed with him. Problem was, Martin also used the same magic on a lot of the women who brought their pets in for treatment.”
Jane took her hands off Shadow and leaned against the table, her fingers clenched into fists. Shadow, sensing her distress, rubbed his head against her arm.
“Martin was clever, too,” Jane went on. “He always figured he was the smartest person in the room and had all sorts of schemes to rake in piles of money. Problem is, they never worked. He ran the finances on our practice, and we were up to our eyeballs in debt when I finally discovered he was fooling around on me. Worse, he was actually milking some of his better-off lady friends for money.”
“Guess I can see why he’s your ex.” Sunny didn’t know what else to say.
“But not before we came up here for a new start.” Jane tried for a light touch, but her voice grew harsh even as she softly petted Shadow. “Martin managed to straighten out and fly right for a couple of months. Then he fell back into his old ways again—and somehow it was worse that he’d do it here, where I grew up!”
“Yikes!” Sunny said.
“There’s a difference between running around in wide-open suburbia and doing the same in a small town. I heard about what he was up to pretty quickly,” Jane said quietly. “And that was it. I made sure that the practice was in my name, and he couldn’t get anything out of it. So after the divorce, Martin set up shop on the other side of the river and did his best to poach as many of my patients as he could. He was pretty successful, with that patented Rigsdale charm.”
She gave a tight little laugh, but her face was flaming. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, except that you saw what I did to him at the Redbrick.”
And you really don’t have anyone else in town to talk to,
Sunny realized. “There are a couple of guys I wish I could do that to,” she told Jane, thinking of the editor in New York she’d been involved with. The same editor who’d laid her off when things got tough.
“Well, Martin stayed true to form.” Jane sighed. “I thought he was being civilized, asking me out to dinner last night. Instead he hit me up for money—foundation money.”
Jane had recently wound up running an animal welfare fund with a sizable endowment. She’d put in a lot of work with animal control people throughout the area. With the financial help of the foundation, they established a no-kill policy at the local shelter and stepped up adoption efforts, not just in Kittery Harbor but all through Elmet County. Every week, Sunny saw advertisements with pictures of furry adoption candidates in the
Harbor Crier
and in other local papers. Jane was even trying to get some of the local TV news outlets onto the adopt-a-pet bandwagon, too. She’d made a couple of successful test appearances. With a gorgeous blonde as the spokesperson, stations were quite willing to try it out.
But Jane wasn’t trying to get herself on television; she really was trying to help stray and abandoned animals. She took her position seriously, and she certainly wasn’t getting a lot in pay.
“The way Martin saw it, I must be rolling in dough, and I ought to spread it around.” Jane’s voice grew almost jagged, earning her a concerned look from Shadow. “He thought I should bring him in as a consultant, with remuneration in line with all his years of experience. A low six-figure fee would be just fine.”
“He sounds like a piece of work,” Sunny said quickly, hoping to head off the icy expression congealing on Jane’s face. “So, is there anything else I should do for Shadow’s foot?”
“Huh?” Jane blinked for a second, her vengeful train of thought obviously derailed. “Oh. No, just try the oil massage for a week. If he doesn’t show improvement, then we’ll try something more medical.”
Anger crept back into her voice. “Martin, of course, would skip to that step right away. He never saw a procedure he didn’t like. The more expensive, the better.”
“Well, thanks, Jane.” Sunny brought the carrier back onto the table. She wanted to get Shadow out and away from Jane’s too tightly clenched hands.
Good thing old Martin isn’t around right now,
she thought.
If Jane got hold of him in this mood, she’d probably snap his neck like a rotten twig.
Sunny barely got
home before the snowstorm the weather forecasters had been hyping came roaring in. She lugged the carrier to the front door of her house through stinging wind-borne snowflakes, let Shadow out in the foyer, and turned to face what looked like a wall of snow suddenly falling outside.
Looks as if I finally get to try out the four-wheel drive on my Wrangler,
she thought.
Her father appeared in the arched entranceway into the living room. “So, you’re back,” he said. “You, too, hairball.”
Shadow slipped around him and disappeared into the room.
“How’s he doing?” Mike asked.
“Jane suggested a little home therapy.” Sunny slipped the hood of her coat up over the baseball cap she was wearing. “Anything you particularly want from the store, Dad? I figure I’d better get out there before it gets any worse.”
“Not a problem,” Mike told her. “I took care of it already. Went to the store, got some milk—skim, so don’t get excited—and a few other things on the grocery list.” He sounded very pleased with himself. “Including the makings for a stew. Figure that would work pretty well with the weather outside.”
Sunny agreed, and with plentiful supplies, they spent the weekend hunkered down. The storm was fierce but brief, dropping a few inches of the white stuff before blowing out to sea. Sunny and her dad didn’t mind much—except that Mike missed his heart-healthy hike. A neighbor came by with a snowblower to clear their walk and driveway, so neither Sunny nor her dad had to shovel. They had movies to watch, and more than enough ingredients to re-create Mom’s famous pressure cooker stew recipe.
And, of course, Sunny had Shadow to play with. He still wasn’t running and jumping so much. That eliminated some of their rougher games. But he definitely seemed to be getting around with less pain.
When her dad watched Shadow purring like a motorboat while Sunny did the warm oil massage on Sunday, Mike grumped, “You’re coddling that cat.”
“Well, I think warm oil beats superglue,” she replied, explaining about Jane’s treatment for torn pads. “I used to use something similar to close up paper cuts. The stuff stung like blazes.”
“Superglue on his paws . . .” Mike’s voice trailed off and his eyes got a bit dreamy, going from Shadow to the living room mantel.
“Don’t even think about it,” Sunny warned.
“That’s easy enough for you to say,” Mike said, only half joking. “You’ve never had him launch a sneak attack when you’re heading to the bathroom for a three a.m. pee. Can you blame me for wanting him to stay put sometimes?”
*
By the time
Monday morning came around, the roads had been cleared, and Sunny had no excuse to stay home from work. She sat with her dad in the kitchen, listening to more snow nonsense on the radio. The weather forecaster warned that if the latest cold front to the west and tropical low to the south cooperated, they could create really serious weather.
If.
Apparently, everything had to line up just right to create a perfect storm, so the voice on the radio alternated between predicting doom and being vague, offering anything from a foot of snow to a mere dusting.
“Well, that’s really helpful,” Sunny told Mike. “Maybe it will also hail with a threat of lightning, too.”
“You know what they say,” he replied with a grin. “Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody ever does anything about it.” He leaned back in his seat. “Me, I’ll get out early and get my walk done. Then I’ll take it easy back here. We’re still pretty well supplied from Saturday.”
“Yeah—wish me luck in that big, bad world outside.” Sunny put her oatmeal bowl in the sink and got her parka. After a fond good-bye to her father and Shadow, she headed out to the maroon Jeep Wrangler already positioned at the end of the driveway.
Sunny drove down to the New Stores—kind of an odd name for a strip of fifty-year-old buildings housing a variety of shops, from Judson’s Market to the offices of MAX. The development had been new when Mike was a young man, and the nickname had stuck for all these decades since.
She parked on the street, reasonably clean except for a bit of slush, headed to her office door, and unlocked the place. MAX was pretty much a one-person show unless her boss, Oliver Barnstable, turned up to holler about something. It looked as if Sunny was in luck today. She turned on the lights, shed her coat, and settled behind her desk to see if anything interesting in the way of e-mail had come in. As she scanned her computer screen, she didn’t find anything earth-shaking. One of her romantic couples had decided to extend their stay—they didn’t say whether it was because of love or snowdrifts. A few long-range planners asked for general information on spring and summer vacations, and another set of eager consumers wanted to set up an orgy of outlet mall shopping.
About an hour into her day, Sunny sat pulling together customized promo packages for some of the computerized tire kickers when the outside door swung open. She found herself looking up at the handsome guy from the Redbrick on Friday—Martin Rigsdale.
At least his face isn’t all wet now,
she thought. And then,
I hope my mouth isn’t hanging open.
“Ms. Sonata Coolidge.” Rigsdale smiled down at her. “May I call you Sunny?”
“You may, Mr. Rigsdale,” she replied, “or should that be Dr. Rigsdale?”
“I think Martin would be less formal.” His smile
was
charming. Sunny found herself wondering if he practiced it every morning in the mirror. He certainly knew he was good-looking, and he worked on the rest of the package to make himself attractive. An expensive patterned sweater showed under his waist-length wool jacket—no downscale parkas for Martin Rigsdale. His hair was sleeked back. Close up, Sunny could make out just a touch of gray at the temples. Very distinguished. She also got a whiff of his cologne—a spicy mix with sandalwood prevailing. It didn’t smell like any of the men’s fragrances she’d encountered before.
He probably has it mixed up to order,
she thought.
Sunny shook her head slightly.
Don’t get distracted now.
“What brings you to our humble office?” she asked. “From what I hear, you’ve lived in the area for a couple of years. There aren’t all that many local attractions. You ought to know them all by now.”
“I just learned about a very eye-catching attraction—you,” Rigsdale said. “I noticed you at the tavern the other day.”
“The Redbrick?” Sunny asked in disbelief.
Martin Rigsdale nodded. “You were hard to miss. Lots of auburn hair, nice cheekbones . . . I tend to pay attention to great-looking women.”
“Even when you’re getting a glass of wine in the face?” Sunny laughed. “Usually that’s
why
a guy gets a glass of wine in the face.”
“When one door closes, you can only hope that another may open.” Rigsdale’s smile grew wider. “I’m hoping for the beginning of a beautiful friendship here—and maybe some help in getting my ex-wife to see reason.”
His pale gray eyes twinkled as he gave her a cheerful shrug. “I was aware that Jane had a friend named Sunny Coolidge. If I’d known you were so attractive, I’d have introduced myself way long ago.”
He grabbed a chair and settled in across from her. “Look, Sunny. You saw how my former wife treats me. A whole lot of the trouble between us involved money, and now that she has some, Jane is just being vengeful.”
Rigsdale leaned toward Sunny. “If you could persuade her to loosen the purse strings a little—tell her it will get me out of her hair—we could have some fun with that money, you and me.”
Now if I had just met this guy, without the lowdown I got on him from Jane, could he have charmed the pants off me?
Sunny looked at that confident smile beaming at her.
Maybe. But knowing what I know . . .
“Sorry, Martin, but I don’t think either of those suggestions is a good idea.”
Martin Rigsdale’s smile slipped a little. “Don’t be hasty, Sunny. It could be awfully nice.” Translation:
He
could be awfully nice.
“I’m afraid
you
were a little hasty, thinking you could sweet-talk me into doing anything for you.”
The sexy smile disappeared as if it had been snapped off.
It probably was,
Sunny thought.
Aloud she said, “Jane has been busting her buns to keep a lot of animals from getting killed. Why should I tell her that any of the money she’s using for that job should go into a private slush fund for you?”
Martin stared at her. “I understood that you weren’t all that tight with Jane—and that you should have gotten some of that foundation money yourself.”
“Arguable, on both counts,” Sunny replied. “But that doesn’t mean that I’d go out of my way to screw her over, especially when she’s using it to do good work.” Time to turn the knife a little. “Maybe you’re getting a bit old, Martin. Seems like that smile of yours might not have quite the same wattage anymore.”
The amorous twist to his lips was definitely gone now. “If you won’t talk to Jane for me, maybe you can warn her. We spent a couple of interesting years together, Jane and I. For richer, for poorer, sickness and health, good things and bad things. She should remember that I was around to see her make some mistakes. Stuff she might not want other people to know about, now that she’s starting this wonderful new life as Saint Jane of the Animals. Tell her that, Sunny. She may decide that my silence comes cheap, all things considered.”
Martin was up and out of the office before Sunny could muster up any sort of comeback. Frankly, she couldn’t think of anything to say—at least, not to Martin.
Sighing, Sunny picked up the phone on her desk and punched in the number of the Kittery Harbor Animal Hospital. Jane wouldn’t like hearing about this little meeting, but it didn’t sound like something a little hot oil could heal.
*
Shadow found himself
waking from a pleasant nap, not because of a noise, but because of a smell. He jerked awake, sneezing, and opened his eyes to find the Old One spraying a sickeningly sweet scent into the air. What was this? Had Sunny’s father come up with a new way to drive him out of the house?
But no, the Old One headed down the hallway to the kitchen, away from the stink, making beckoning gestures.
Shadow warily trailed along behind to find his bowl almost overflowing with dry food, and on top of that, the contents of one of those cans that Sunny opened only once a week. It would have been nice, except that he’d eaten his fill just before settling down to sleep.
What was going on here? The Old One was pointing to the food, making cajoling noises, when the front doorbell sounded.
The older two-leg swung round and hurried off. Shadow turned from the food and moved silently to the kitchen doorway. He peered around, down the hall, as the Old One opened the door. Oh, now things began to make sense. There was the other Old One, the female. Shadow had seen them get together before—although they’d made it clear they didn’t like him watching.
Maybe the Old One wanted to mark the female with that strange scent. Whatever he had in mind, he obviously wanted Shadow busily eating in the kitchen and far away. Shadow quickly pulled his head back into hiding as the female came in. He didn’t need to look at them to know what was going on. From the sounds of their voices, the two went into the room with the picture box.
Settling back on his haunches, Shadow ignored the food, giving the pair of two-legs a few moments to get settled. He didn’t want either of them stepping back into the hall and finding him sneaking their way.
He heard talk, then silence. They should be sitting down by now. Shadow set off down the hallway at a rapid trot. He paused at the entrance to the room and risked a quick peek. The Old One and his female friend shared the couch. The Old One looked a little annoyed that they weren’t sitting closer. The female had a large bag settled between them.
Her voice was quick and excited as she reached into the bag, bringing out a small, wiggling form. Shadow couldn’t believe his eyes. She’d brought a Biscuit Eater—here? What was she thinking?
Shadow should have been able to detect the scent of dog as soon as the female came in with that bag. That stuff in the air must have overpowered his usually keen sense of smell.
Now the female two-leg made cheerful burbling sounds, showing off the little dog to the Old One. The fool animal was even the color of biscuits, a sort of yellowish cream. As the human female settled the little dog in her lap, she suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the doorway. Shadow ducked his head but stood his ground. It was too late to retreat now; he’d been spotted.
Still making happy noises, the female Old One put the young Biscuit Eater on the floor. The stupid creature stared around, emitting a string of excited yips. Then it, too, focused on Shadow. Stumbling over its own paws, the little dog headed for Shadow, its yipping growing even louder.
Wonderful. It sees something its own size and wants to investigate.
On the couch, the female Old One clapped her hands together, distracting Shadow’s attention. He glanced over toward her, and then saw the other Old One—
his
Old One—sitting tightly beside her. The human male’s face had an odd, pleading expression as his eyes went from the little dog to Shadow.
What does he expect me to do?
Shadow thought.
Or is he afraid of what I’ll do?
The little Biscuit Eater continued to bumble its way in Shadow’s direction, still piping with excitement. Shadow had faced off against dogs before, sometimes even fighting with them. They were quick to woof—and just as quick to run when claws came out. But this biscuit-colored dog was obviously young as well as foolish.
Was I ever as young as that?
Shadow wondered, looking into the puppy’s guileless brown eyes. Maybe, but he couldn’t remember.
There was no need for claws here. Shadow arched his back and gave the Biscuit Eater an openmouthed hiss.
Whining in distress, the puppy backed away so quickly it tripped over its rear legs. The dumb dog did something else, too. Shadow recognized the sudden sharp reek even through the sweet-smelling cloud that still lingered in the air. Shadow got out of there quickly, as both Old Ones gathered around the little dog, making distressed noises. He’d heard worse when humans discovered cats not using the litter box.