33
“
I love her!” The moment Charity had brought out the golden retriever, Phoebe had lost her heart. “She’s perfect!”
“Goldens are wonderful companion dogs,” Charity said as she wrote up the adoption paperwork. “They’re one of the few breeds who truly build a strong lifetime bond with their human family, which is why it’s so rare for them to come up for adoption.
“Unfortunately, they are prone to separation anxiety, which is how Sunny ended up with me. With both her humans working long hours, she tended to get bored and think up things to do to get in trouble. But with you and Ethan sharing her, she should be in doggie heaven.” Charity reached down and scratched behind the dog’s ear, causing it to wiggle its fluffy gold butt in a canine happy dance.
“Since I’m a believer in full disclosure, I have to warn you that she’ll shed.”
“I have a Swiffer,” Phoebe said. “I can handle some dog hair.”
“The upside is that it’s a double coat, which makes it weatherproof.”
“A handy thing for this area, with all our rain,” Ethan said.
“She’s very patient, which will be a plus once your baby starts walking and undoubtedly jumps on her. And she’s strong enough to be able to take whatever roughhousing an older child will give her. And, being two years old, she’s well trained and housebroken.”
“She’s perfect,” Phoebe repeated as she signed the adoption agreement Charity handed her. For a moment she was almost able to forget the trouble the Fletchers had brought down on her so suddenly as she imagined this beautiful, sweet dog playing with her soon-to-be-born child.
“And you two are perfect for her. And I’m glad you both came by this evening, because I received a call from my stepfather just before you arrived. He’s not sure about the details, but there are rumors floating around Colorado that your former father-in-law might be under federal investigation.”
“For what?” Phoebe asked in surprise.
“He doesn’t know. Yet,” Charity qualified. “But he’s going to make a few calls to people he knows in Washington—DC, not the state—and see what else he can find out.”
“So they’re just rumors?” Ethan asked with a frown.
“Yes. At this point. But believe me, Benton, my stepfather, is superconnected in high-up legal circles. If the Fletchers have any skeletons in their closet, he’ll unearth them.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.” Words couldn’t begin to describe the depth of Phoebe’s gratitude.
“Just be happy. With your new dog, your baby, and this guy here. You’ve created a wonderful new life for yourself, Phoebe. None of us who care about you will let those horrid people take it away.”
As Sunny thumped a thick yellow tail on the floor, as if to signify canine agreement, Phoebe thought, yet again, how of all the places that underground railroad might have taken her, she’d been beyond fortunate to end up here in Shelter Bay.
34
Cl
aire had never been to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, but each time she visited Bon Temps, she felt as if she’d come close. The night of the crabfest was no different.
Gold, purple, and green carnival masks hung on Tabasco-hued walls, and bright beads, like the kind thrown from floats, had been hung from light fixtures.
The high school pops band was playing on the small stage. What the teenage musicians lacked in professionalism, they made up for in enthusiasm as they belted out show tunes interspersed with the Dolphins’ fight song, while the cheerleaders tried to get everyone to sing along. Spirit banners painted by various school clubs hung on the bright red walls next to the masks.
Although she felt some chilliness from a few of the parents—she suspected they were concerned that Matt would take away from their sons’ playing time—the boosters were more than friendly, and nearly everyone else who’d shown up to support the team made a point of stopping by her table to welcome her to town.
“I’m having a good time,” she said to Charity, who was sitting next to her at the long table.
“I’m glad. It is fun, isn’t it?” Charity said. “Sometimes it blows my mind that I’m actually the mother of a teenager, but fortunately, Johnny’s such an easy kid.” She glanced over at her adopted son pouring water into a pitcher at a nearby table. “He looks so grown up.”
“I know.” Claire was struck at how adult her own son, clad in slacks, a white shirt, and a black tie, looked as he moved around the room, a model of polite manners and charm as he served the crab dinner. She also watched all the young girls’ eyes following him.
“They grow up so fast,” she said, focusing in on one blond cheerleader, who, from the hungry look in her gaze as she’d sassily flirted with him when he passed with a tray of bright red boiled crabs, looked as if she could be trouble. “I hear I have your Johnny to thank for Matt deciding to volunteer at your shelter.”
“We’re happy to have him. And I’m so glad you’re coming by next week. We have some wonderful dogs to choose from.”
At that moment, a little girl who reminded Claire a bit of Zuzu from
It’s a Wonderful Life
came spinning up to the table. She was wearing a pink tutu, striped pink and yellow leggings, a glittery pink T-shirt that read
I HAVE HAPPY FEET
, and sneakers that flashed as those happy feet moved up and down.
“Hi,” she greeted Claire with a bright smile that was lacking a front tooth. “I’m Angel. And I’m a ballerina.”
“I can see that,” Claire said. “I’ve been watching you dance with the band. You’re very good.”
“Madame Zelda’s the best teacher ever. Mommy says that’s because she used to be a really famous ballerina in Russia. Are you Matt’s mommy?”
“I am.”
“He’s nice.”
“I like to think so.”
“Oh!” She lifted both hands up to her mouth. Her short nails had been painted with a sparkly pink polish. “I almost forgot. Mommy,” she said, “Daddy told me to come get you. He said it’s
really
important.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious,” Claire said to Charity.
“If it was all that serious, he wouldn’t have sent Tinker Bell,” Charity assured her. “I’m on the crabfest committee. It’s probably something like we’re in danger of running out of coleslaw or another emergency.”
Just as she stood up, Dillon walked by.
“Dillon,” Charity said, snagging his arm, “come sit by Claire and keep her company. She doesn’t know that many people yet.”
Before Claire could assure her that she was perfectly capable of introducing herself to other town residents, Charity was off, following the dancing sprite, causing a faint sound, like the one made when the angel Clarence finally earned his wings in
It’s a Wonderful Life
, to chime in the back of Claire’s mind.
“Why do I get the feeling I’ve just been set up?” she asked dryly as the coach sat down at the butcher-paper-covered table next to her.
“Beats me.” He popped some shrimp from a bowl in front of him into his mouth and looked around. “The place is really packed. I’m just glad I was able to find a place to sit down. It’s a little hard to crack crab standing up. . . . So how goes the glassblowing?”
“I’ve been blocked,” she admitted. “Other than the green flash, I haven’t been able to come up with anything creative that works with it.” She’d begun to wonder if it was possible to actually run out of ideas.
“That’s probably not surprising. I’d imagine all the changes in your life haven’t exactly put your mind in a creative space.”
“True. But inspiration struck when I was down at the aquarium the other day.”
“Cool place.” He nodded approvingly. “I took the science club there last month. They have some great programs. Maybe we could go together sometime. I have an in with the research scientists there. I could give you a behind-the-scenes tour.”
“That sounds interesting, but I’m afraid I have a lot on my plate right now,” she said mildly as she realized a couple at the next table over were openly eavesdropping.
“Just let me know if you change your mind. I’m glad you’re here,” he said, seeming to take her rejection in stride. The fact that it irked just a bit didn’t make a bit of sense, since she didn’t want to get even slightly involved with Dillon Slater. “I have a proposition for you.”
The conversation around them came to an abrupt halt. A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. Looking around, he spotted Kara and Maddy, who’d just come out of the kitchen.
“Would you two ladies mind saving our seats for about five minutes?” he asked. “I need to talk with Claire.”
As neither woman seemed all that surprised or curious about what was going on, that niggling little chime sounded again in her mind. Louder, and a bit more insistent this time.
“Of course,” Kara said. “Hey, Claire, it’s good to see you.”
Brief greetings were exchanged; then Dillon scooped Claire’s jacket from the back of her chair. “Let’s go out on the porch,” he said, “where we can have some privacy.”
The chime was now an alarm bell. “Unless you’re going to tell me that Matt has a problem, we don’t have any reason for privacy.”
“Now, see, far be it from me to argue with a lady, but that’s where you’re wrong.”
They wove through the tables, past the bandstand, to the porch overlooking the harbor. Although a light mist was falling, the porch roof kept them dry. Claire had also discovered that the cloud cover when it rained actually kept the temperature up.
“It’s the maritime climate,” he said when she mentioned it after he’d asked if she was cold. “So I’ve been thinking about watching you blow glass the other day.”
“Have you?”
“I have. And I was wondering if you’d be willing to give a demonstration to the science club. I think they’d really go for it.”
She was surprised he just hadn’t asked her that question back inside the restaurant. “I’d be happy to. Do you think they’d enjoy blowing a glass paperweight?”
“You’d make their day. Who wouldn’t want to give someone a special thing they’ve made with their own two hands?”
“When would you want to do it?”
“I don’t want to interfere with your exhibit work. Maybe after the first of the year?”
“I think I could fit it in before that so they’d have a Christmas gift. How about sometime the week before Christmas?”
“Great. Thanks. That’s way cool.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, there is another thing.”
Make that a siren.
“What?”
The flashing green, gold, and purple neon sign overhead illuminated his face enough that she could read his intention.
“This isn’t going to happen,” she warned.
“Why not?”
He was close. Too close. “Because we don’t know each other.”
“Good point.” His breath warmed her lips, and despite her protest, as she held her breath, waiting for his kiss, he surprised her by nipping at her chin. “It just so happens that I’ve got a few ways in mind we can remedy that. Starting right now.”
“I can’t.” Oh, he was good, she thought as her heart speeded up. But she was no longer that naive girl who could fall for such practiced seduction.
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
She put a hand on his chest and was surprised to discover that despite his outwardly easy charm, his heart was beating as rapidly as hers. Which caused a little jolt and made this situation all the more tempting.
“Both. Because I’ve never been one for playing games, I’m not going to deny I’m tempted. But you just happen to be my son’s coach. There are undoubtedly a great many parents in that restaurant who are hoping their sons win athletic scholarships. If they thought you were giving Matt more playing time because you were involved with me, it would not only hurt the team; it could hurt my son. A lot.”
“I think you’re overstating the problem.”
“I don’t believe I am.” Mrs. Martin, whose son Dirk was a senior on the team, had definitely iced her when they’d been introduced. “And it’s time we went back inside.”
He didn’t stop her when she took a step back. Nor did he argue, but merely shrugged and said, “Your call.”
But as they entered Bon Temps and Ken Curtis called him to the bandstand to give a speech about the upcoming season, Dillon bent his head and murmured next to her ear, “Just think about it, Claire.”
As if she was going to be able to think of anything else.
35
As wit
h everything else in her life lately, Claire’s trip to the shelter did not go as planned. Matt had been talking about a lab or a boxer, and she’d been fine with that. Until this black-and-brown dog came up to them, sat on her haunches, and held out a paw.
“That’s Jessie,” Johnny said.
“What is she?” Claire asked, even as she bent down and shook the paw. At which point the dog rolled over and bared her stomach. “She looks like a miniature Doberman pinscher. But larger.” She also had floppy ears and a long tail, but Claire assumed that was because they hadn’t been surgically changed to the AKC standard.
“Actually, min pins aren’t related to Dobermans at all,” Charity explained. “
Pinscher
actually means
terrier
, and those were bred as barnyard ratters. Their breeding ancestry includes dachshunds, Italian greyhounds, and perhaps German pinschers, which is what Jessie is.”
The dog, hearing her name, rolled back up onto her feet and again held out a paw. “It’s her trick,” Charity said. “I’ve no idea how she learned it, because her previous owners swear they didn’t teach it to her. She’s incredibly smart, but her breed also has a strong will, so she needs gentle but consistent discipline. And because she’s high-energy, she’ll need daily exercise.”
“We can do that, can’t we, Mom?” Matt was on his knees on the grass, scratching behind her velvety ear, causing the dog to groan with canine pleasure.
“I suppose so.” Claire turned to Charity. “I read on your Web site that you prequalify all your dogs?”
“I definitely do. Jessie’s a bit of a Velcro dog, needing to keep close by people, but that’s because her life has been through so much upheaval lately. We got her when the owners found out she was pregnant, so suddenly she was not only having to become a mother at her very first heat; she was in a strange environment with people she didn’t know.
“But she’d be a wonderful companion. As you can see, she’s very outgoing and a very quick learner.” She turned toward her son. “Show Mrs. Templeton the trick you taught her.”
“Sure.” He grinned. “Jessie, sit.”
She sat.
“Now, stay.”
She didn’t move a muscle.
“This needs a bit of backstory,” Charity said. “After helping in the clinic and shelter, Johnny’s decided he wants to go to OSU and become a vet. And OSU’s century-old rival is U of O.”
“The Ducks,” Matt said dismissively, suggesting he found the name even less suitable for a mascot than the Dolphins.
“So . . . Jessie,” Johnny said. When he paused, her ears pricked and she seemed to go into high alert to listen. “Would you like to be an Oregon Duck fan? Or would you rather be a dead dog?”
On cue, she dramatically fell to the ground, rolled over, and stuck all four legs in the air. And held that pose until the teenager snapped his fingers.
“Okay,” Claire said with a laugh as the dog jumped up and gave Matt’s face a wet swipe with her long pink tongue. “You won me over. . . . Matt, what do you think?”
“She’s perfect, Mom!”
All the youthful joy she’d once been accustomed to seeing in his face was back as he hugged the dog, who, since she was in a shelter, obviously needed him as much as he needed her. Of course, in three years he’d be off to college, and she’d be stuck walking and feeding and disciplining his dog. But at least she wouldn’t be left with a totally empty nest.
“There’s just one more thing,” Charity said. “Johnny, would you go get Toby?”
He took off running.
“As I said, Jessie’s been through a lot of changes. She’s young and was a bit overwhelmed to suddenly be faced with a litter of pups. Which is when Toby decided to adopt them. And, as it turns out, her.”
“Toby is a dog?” Claire asked.
“Exactly. He’s one of our golden paw boys, meaning he’s a senior citizen. The two of them are pretty much inseparable, and I’d really prefer adopting them as a pair.”
“Oh, I don’t know—”
“Mom!”
“Matt, our own life isn’t exactly settled right now. You have your sports, and we have to fix up the house, and—”
She felt her heart turn over as Johnny returned with a ball of black fluff in his arms. The little dog leaped out of the teenager’s arms and went running over to Jessie. Watching them exchange enthusiastic dog kisses, as if they’d been separated for years and not merely minutes, Claire knew she was toast.
“Toby spends much of his day dozing,” Charity assured her. “Most of the time you won’t even realize he’s there.”
“But Jessie will,” Claire said as she watched them together. Jessie was on her feet, chasing Toby around the yard. At first Claire worried, then noticed that the younger and larger dog kept letting Toby think he was knocking her down.
“As you can see, they’ve formed quite a bond,” Charity said.
Claire caved. “Prepare the paperwork,” she told Claire. “For them both.”
“Thanks, Mom!” Again Matt reminded her of the happy son he’d once been. “You totally rock!”