Raining Cats & Dogs (A Melanie Travis Mystery) (5 page)

“James travels,” Amber said. “He’s on the road a lot. Business.”

“What kind of business is he in?” asked Sam.

Amber shrugged and looked perplexed. As if these were hard questions we were asking. “It’s, like, import/export,” she said. “You know, he buys stuff in one place and sells it in another.”

Supply and demand. Amber made it sound like a novel concept.

“Anyway, he’s almost never home,” she said. “Which is why I’m so glad I have all my kitties to keep me company.”

By now the Poodles had stopped barking. I wondered whether that meant the orange cat was no longer sitting in the window, or that they’d simply grown tired of watching him ignore them. I would need to let the dogs out for a run in the yard before we left to meet the real estate agent. Maybe the sight of all five big black Poodles running loose on his side of the door would be enough to make Felix realize that he ought to find another house to visit.

Sam’s thoughts must have mirrored mine, because he looked down at his watch. “Mel, Davey, we’d better get going.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said. “Nice meeting you, Amber. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

“Thank you,” she cooed. “This is such a cute little street. Much better than the apartment we had before. The kitties are going to love having their freedom here.”

Sam still had my hand. He used that hold to spin me around before I had a chance to reply. Next thing I knew, we were striding back toward our house.

“That went well,” he said. “Don’t you think?”

I muttered my answer under my breath and shut the gate behind us.

S
o we went house hunting. Again.

All right, so we really hadn’t been looking for that long—less than three weeks, and mostly on the weekends. But it felt like longer. I mean, how long should it take to find the perfect home?

I know, I know. Don’t answer that.

So far, we’d managed to look at nearly thirty houses. We wanted to stay in North Stamford if possible, to keep Davey in the same school district and close to his friends. Not much was available in the surrounding neighborhoods, however, and the few places we’d seen had each been unsuitable for one reason or another.

So we widened our search. Greenwich, where Aunt Peg lived and I worked, was lovely, and also incredibly expensive. Old Greenwich was a possibility, but there was hardly anything on the market. The houses we had seen in Riverside and Cos Cob didn’t have enough land for the Poodles. New Canaan and Darien were nice; still, we had yet to walk into a house and know, with certainty, that that was where we wanted to live.

And so we kept looking. The end of Saturday’s search found us in northern New Canaan and Wilton, where my brother, Frank, lived with his wife, Bertie, and their new baby daughter. But to get to Howard Academy from Wilton would take a good chunk of time during rush hour. Plus, Davey would have to make all new friends. Sam already owned a house in Redding that was bigger than mine. He’d been planning to put it on the market. If we were going to live in Wilton, we realized belatedly, we might as well live in Redding. It wasn’t all that much farther away.

Luckily, Marilyn was a patient woman. When we parted company at her office just before five, she promised to check the new listings every day that week and comb again through the existing offerings to see if there was anything we might have missed seeing. Davey, to my surprise, was jubilant in the car on the way home.

“What’s up?” I said, turning around in my seat to look at him. “I thought you were looking forward to moving to a bigger house.”

“Yeah.” My son’s gaze slid sideways out the window. You didn’t have to be a teacher to recognize that kind of evasion.

“But?” I prompted.

“But I thought we’d be moving somewhere close to home. You know, so I could stay in the same school and everything.”

“That’s what we’re hoping,” said Sam. “That’s definitely our first choice. But we need more room for the dogs.”

“What we need,” I said, thinking out loud, “is a house like Bob’s.”

Bob was my ex-husband and Davey’s father. After going AWOL from our lives when Davey was just an infant, he’d reappeared unexpectedly several years earlier. Though he’d been living in Texas at the time, our reunion had been such a success that Bob had ended up purchasing a house in Stamford. Now he lived in a large colonial on a couple of acres of land only a mile or two from our own.

Davey brightened. “Do you think Dad would let us move in with him?”

“Uh…” I sputtered. Sam made a choking noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter. “That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. More like maybe something will come up for sale in his neighborhood.”

“Yeah,” said Davey. “That would be cool.”

Cool, I thought. If we didn’t perish from overcrowding in the meantime.

When we got home, I found that Paul Lennox had left a message on the answering machine about Sunday’s visit to Winston Pumpernill. I carry a cell phone, but it drives me crazy having to field calls all day long, so I never give out the number. Paul didn’t seem to mind not being able to reach me directly.

“I hope you’ll join us tomorrow,” he said. “Everyone meets at two outside the main entrance, and we usually have a pretty good size group. The staff will be expecting us, of course, and the residents will have gathered in the sunroom. So if you’re going to come, try not to be late. I know Faith would be a big hit, so I hope you’ll try to make it.”

I’d already checked with Sam. He and Davey didn’t mind being left to their own devices on Sunday afternoon. I suspected they were going to do something manly together, like watch a baseball game. I called Paul back and told him to expect me.

Sunday morning, I clipped Faith’s face, feet, and the base of her tail and gave her a bath. Because I keep her in a sporting trim now, her hair is relatively short. Even so, because of her size and because her coat is so thick, it took me more than an hour to blow her dry. Accustomed to the multi-hour grooming marathons it took to get Eve ready to go in the show ring, however, this seemed like a breeze.

When I loaded Faith into the car and she realized we were going to embark on another activity for just the two of us, she became even more animated. Eve, who’d never been an “only dog,” seemed to mind the expansion of our canine population less. But Faith, who had been Davey and my sole companion for several years, definitely had had some moments recently when she seemed to be feeling rather put upon. I was happy to have found another activity that she and I could share by ourselves.

Paul had been correct I discovered when we pulled in the driveway at Winston Pumpernill: the outing had drawn a sizable crowd. Nearly all the dogs and owners I’d met at class were there. Steve Barton was talking to Minnie and Julie while Coach and Jack sat side by side in amiable company. Mark, Stacey, and Paul formed another group with their three smaller dogs chasing around their ankles.

The only ones I didn’t see were Kelly and her Akita, Boss, which, I decided, was probably just as well. Since this was our first time, Faith and I would be feeling our way and trying to figure out what to do. Both would be much easier to accomplish without having to look out for that fractious pair.

I pulled my Volvo over to the line of cars and parked. Faith knew what to expect. She waited for me to fasten the leather leash to her collar before hopping out. Immediately, Paul and Steve strode over to greet us.

“Welcome,” said Paul. “I told Steve you’d be coming. We’re really glad you decided to join us.”

“Wow.” Steve gazed at Faith admiringly. “Did you give her a bath? She looks great.”

Faith, who always knows praise when she hears it, gave him a doggy smile and preened from side to side so he could enjoy the full effect of her beauty.

“Just this morning. I figured she might as well dress up a bit for our visit.”

“The residents will appreciate it. Many of them enjoy calling the dogs, even the bigger ones, up into their laps. They love to bury their faces in the dogs’ fur. Trust me, you and Faith are going to be very popular.”

Steve glanced at his watch, then turned back to look at the others. “It’s just about time. Let’s head inside, people. Is everyone ready?”

Paul fell into step beside me. Cora and Faith touched noses in greeting, then trotted along with us. “In the beginning, just stay with the group and do what everyone else does. There’s no trick to it, really. Have you ever visited an assisted care facility before?”

I shook my head.

“This place isn’t at all what you’d think of when you think of a typical nursing home. For one thing, we’re in Greenwich, so the people who reside here are, for the most part, accustomed to living very well. You’ll find there’s sort of a country club atmosphere. And the monthly schedule sounds like something from a cruise ship. There are classes in art and yoga and poetry, not to mention bridge sessions, bingo games, and bowling.

“The residents are elderly, but most are still in pretty good shape. They had full and rewarding lives before, and they don’t have any intention of changing that now. They get up and dress each morning as if they really had somewhere to go. It’s not unusual to see the women in pearls and the men wearing sports coats. Sometimes I think half of them are really here for the social life.” Paul stopped and smiled sheepishly. “Well, not really, but you know what I mean.”

I did. “You have an aunt who lives here, right?”

“Great-aunt, actually. Mary Livingston. She’s a hoot and a half. You’ll love her when you meet her. Everyone does. Eighty-three years old and doesn’t look a day over seventy-five. She’s the one who got me and Cora started on visiting. She’d had dogs her whole life and missed their companionship terribly when she moved in. ‘There’s something therapeutic about petting a dog,’ she told me. And you know what? She was right. Whatever happens when we visit here…it’s hard to explain, but somehow it just feels like magic.”

We’d reached the wide stone steps that led up to the front door, which was already being opened by a smiling woman in a blue shirtwaist dress and low-heeled pumps. As the dogs and handlers in the front of the group began to file inside, a horn tooted urgently behind us.

We all turned to look. A black Lexus sedan was speeding down the driveway. When it came closer, I recognized Kelly Marx behind the wheel. Boss, the Akita, was sitting on the front seat beside her.

“Late, as usual,” Minnie muttered. “Like she thinks the whole world ought to wait for her.”

Beside me, Paul sighed under his breath. Julie looked annoyed. Mark was shaking his head.

“It’s wrong of me, I know,” said Stacey. “But every week I hope she’ll find something better to do on a Sunday afternoon. Someday that woman and her dog are going to cause some real trouble.”

We stopped to wait for her. I watched Kelly loop a leather choke collar securely around Boss’s thick neck and head our way. “Surely Steve would make sure not to let that happen, wouldn’t he?”

“Steve can’t control everything,” said Minnie. I noted that she and the rest of the handlers shortened their leashes and pulled their dogs closer to their sides as Boss and Kelly approached. “Even though he’s anal enough to think that he can.”

“Besides,” Stacey added in an undertone, “it’s Kelly.”

The others nodded in agreement. I read between the lines and wondered if I was coming up with the right conclusion. Later, I should probably check on that.

“Sorry I’m late,” Kelly chirped. “Traffic was beastly.”

“On Sunday? In backcountry Greenwich?” said Julie. “How unusual.”

Steve shot her a quelling stare. Julie ignored him, but the hackles on her Doberman’s neck rose. Faith prudently retreated a step. I thought about following, but the group was already moving forward again. Dogs and handlers pushed through the open double doors and into a vast reception area with gleaming hardwood floors and real artwork on the walls.

Paul pulled me aside as I entered. He was standing with two women, one of them the blonde who had opened the door. She was in her forties, tall and spare, and far more stylish than I could ever hope to be. “Melanie, I’d like to introduce you to Catherine Stone. She’s the Director of Therapeutic Recreation. It’s her office that oversees our visits here.”

Catherine shook my hand and introduced me to her assistant, Lynn Stephanopolus, the Director of Volunteers. Standing beside her boss, Lynn had a tendency to fade into the background. Her skin was surprisingly pale against very dark hair, and her eyes appeared small behind thick glasses with black frames. Faith was polite to Catherine, but she warmed to Lynn immediately.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said. “And Poodles are always welcome here. She’s a big one, isn’t she?”

“Faith is a Standard Poodle. That’s the largest of the three varieties.” It always amazed me how many people seemed to expect all Poodles to be small dogs.

“My family had a Poodle when I was little,” said Lynn. “A silver named Smoky.” She held out her hand about knee high. “He was only this big, but he lived to be sixteen. What a great dog he was.”

“They’re all pretty great,” I agreed.

“Let’s head back to the sunroom,” said Lynn, stepping to the head of the hallway. “Everyone’s already gathered there, and we have a good-sized group today. I know they’re anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

I joined the rear of the procession and looked around curiously as one wide hallway joined into the next and we made our way to the back of the building. Doors opened into rooms on either side. The first several were administrative offices. After that came a couple of common rooms. Then we were escorted down a series of residential hallways.

I’d expected the facility to look and feel like a small hospital, but I was quickly disabused of that notion. Instead, Winston Pumpernill resembled an upscale hotel. Apart from the fact that the floors were uncarpeted, the decor was reminiscent of those gracious old resorts that had once flourished on Cape Cod and in the Poconos. Nurses, identifiable by their name tags, wore soft-soled shoes and tracksuits in vibrant colors. The occasional residents we passed were dressed as though they might have been on their way to afternoon tea.

The sunroom was a large, open space in the rear of the building. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over manicured lawns and the woods beyond. Skylights added to the bright and cheery atmosphere.

It was a good thing Faith and I were at the back of the pack, because when we reached the doorway, I stopped dead. I’d been expecting a group of maybe a dozen seniors. Instead, the gathering looked more like forty or fifty. Most were already seated, some in wheelchairs, many in the armchairs and sofas that were scattered around the room. All gazed expectantly in our direction.

“Oh, my,” I said softly.

Julie glanced back at me. “I know. It’s a little daunting, isn’t it?”

“I’ll say. I had no idea….”

“None of us did our first times here. But then you begin to think about what your life would be like if you had to live without dogs, and it makes perfect sense. Come on, don’t hang back. The best part about this is that there’s no way to do it wrong, because every single person here is absolutely thrilled to see us.”

“Or our dogs, at any rate,” Mark said with a laugh. He’d been listening in.

“What do I do first?” I asked. Minnie and Stacey, who’d been at the front of the group, were already approaching the closest of the seniors.

“Just walk in and say hello to somebody. Introduce yourself and your dog. After that, see what happens naturally and just go with it.”

Julie and Mark headed off in opposite directions. I hesitated for a moment, observing the interactions between the nursing home inmates and the dogs. Everyone looked happy and comfortable, as if this were something they’d done a number of times before. Which, of course, it was.