New Leash on Life (The Dogfather Book 2)

by Roxanne St Claire

  “What was she like, Shane?”

  He closed his eyes like the question hurt him, and Chloe put her hand on his chest, over his heart. “Tell me about her. Tell me everything you can remember.”

  “Now? In bed?” He turned, his eyebrows raised. “You want me to talk about my mother? I thought we were on Zeus.”

  “What upset you about losing Zeus was that you hurt your mother.”

  “You’re right,” he said on a sigh. “But why do you want to talk about her?”

  “Because I want to know this amazing woman who raised you. I want to understand what made her tick. I want to…” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care. “I want to imagine what having a mother like that would have been like if she’d been mine.”

  “Oh, Chloe.” He rolled over and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest with enough of a shudder that she knew he was fighting tears, too. “I wish she could be, sweetheart. I wish she could. I wish she were still here, damn it.”

  She bit her lip to keep from sobbing, pressing her face into his chest as she thought about his mother…and hers. “Tell me.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long time, holding her head against him, stroking her hair with the same calming, comforting, loving touch she’d seen him use on Daisy. “I have a hard time talking about her, to be honest.”

  “Even to me?”

  “Especially to you.”

  She lifted her head up. “Why?”

  He looked hard at her, a few heartbeats passing. “It’s like there’s a hole in my heart that can never…I can never…” He sighed noisily. “I don’t know why, but ever since I met you, I think more about her than ever. I was able to put it in a box, shove it away, not think about how much it hurt to lose her. I tried to make it not matter. Just, you know, part of life. My mom died. It happens to everyone. It happened to you, so shouldn’t I be able to…deal?”

  His voice shredded the words, and she rubbed his chest, making a small circle with her palm.

  “Everyone deals in a different way,” she said. “But you shouldn’t put her memory away. You should share it. Help her memory to live. Please tell me about her.”

  It took him a while to talk again. When he did, he voice was low and calm. “She made friends with everyone. Everyone. Five minutes and she knew something about everyone, and then she’d remember it. I’d be in town with her, and we’d run into someone, and she’d know that their kid was sick last week or they got a new car. Not gossipy stuff, but personal. She always found something to compliment, but not to be fake, but because she only saw good.”

  Chloe closed her eyes and tucked closer to him, listening to the tone and timbre of his voice as much as the words.

  He told a story about her, then another. He laughed. He might have cried. He kept talking until Chloe was asleep, certain that that night, she’d dream of a woman with golden-green eyes.

  And maybe the stories had been cathartic for Shane, but Chloe was the one who was soothed, warmed, and healed by the invisible presence of Annie Kilcannon.

  Chapter Nineteen

  For four, no, five, nights, Chloe had woken up with Shane next to her. And Daisy curled up at the bottom—yes, on the bed—waiting for them to wake up.

  Nothing had ever felt quite so normal. Or good.

  A training class was in full swing at Waterford, so Shane had to be at work almost all day, but Chloe had divided her time between polishing and practicing the presentation she’d give to the citizens of Bitter Bark in a few days and strolling through the town with Daisy. In the evening, they’d have dinner, share the highlights of their days, take Daisy out for “last pee,” as Chloe had come to call it, and slip in between the covers together.

  They stopped discussing how long Chloe would stay after the “popular vote” was taken. And she’d started checking her phone with one eye closed, dreading the call or text from her contact in Roatán, where they were currently deciding on a budget to bring in a tourism consultant for the rest of the summer to gear up for the fall and winter seasons.

  Roatán, an island in the Caribbean, was so far from the rolling foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains that she actually couldn’t think about it. But the thought planted itself that early morning, and Chloe pushed out of bed to shake it off. She slipped on sleep pants and a tank top, brushed her teeth, and headed for coffee. Daisy jumped off the bed with a soft thud and padded down the hall after her.

  In the kitchen, she opened the back door to let Daisy into the yard, then peered out the window as she waited for the pot to brew. All the while, she was thinking about that call until her phone buzzed from the table where she’d left it charging the night before.

  “Oh, not fair,” she murmured, certain that merely thinking about her client had brought the call.

  “What’s not fair?” Shane asked, coming around the corner with sleepy eyes, no shirt, and boxers.

  “That.” She poked his bare chest on the way to get the phone, but he snagged her arm and pulled her closer for a kiss, long enough for the call to go to voice mail.

  “You left me. Not fair.”

  She closed her eyes as the phone vibrated again, a text this time, no doubt with the news that she would eventually have to leave him for good.

  He nuzzled her neck, not thinking that far in advance. “Come back to bed,” he urged, the words and the promise they held melting her.

  “I need…” Her words trailed off as she picked up the phone to realize that she wasn’t getting a text from Roatán but Aunt Blanche, who’d texted and called three, four, oh, many times. The last message said WE HAVE A PROBLEM in screaming caps.

  “What’s wrong?” Shane asked.

  “I don’t know.” She tapped the phone to start reading as someone pounded hard on the front door.

  They looked at each other for a second, then both hustled to the living room, with Chloe still holding the phone she hadn’t even read yet.

  Blanche plowed in before the door was open. “Oh, someone’s really done it now,” she said.

  Chloe’s first thought was Daisy, who was safely in the backyard. Her second thought was Shane was darn near naked, but her aunt didn’t even seem to notice, her eyes wild and locked on Chloe.

  “Every single sign, Chloe. Every street sign, every business around Bushrod Square, the welcome sign, around the park and, of course, the tree. Every single one of them defaced during the night.”

  “Defaced?” Shane repeated in shock.

  “With…what?” Oh God, Chloe couldn’t even think about the possibilities of someone who hated her and dogs. That someone who left a calling card on her porch and broke the lock on the back gate. “What did they do?”

  “Bitter Bark is now Better Bark, thanks to spray paint and markers.”

  Before she could answer, Shane sprinted back to the bedroom, presumably to dress.

  “Oh, Aunt Blanche, I’m so sorry.” Chloe reached for her, the woman’s frayed nerves obvious. “I feel like I brought this on.”

  “You didn’t change the signs, Chloe, but whoever did was vicious and sloppy and thorough.”

  “Jeannie,” she muttered.

  “She’s out of town,” Blanche said. “And so’s Mitch Easterbrook, which will come as no surprise to anyone.”

  Shane barreled back into the living room, wearing shorts and a T-shirt and sneakers with no socks, wordlessly passing the women to go outside.

  “I have to see, too,” Chloe said, glancing down at her bare feet.

  Blanche kicked off her flip-flops. “Wear mine. I’ve seen enough.”

  “Go have coffee, Aunt Blanche. I’ll be back.” Without another word, she rushed to keep up with Shane, the two of them marching down the street toward town. At the first side street, they looked up at the sign where the round Bitter Bark logo was on the side of every sign within a mile of Bushrod Square.

  Three lines with a thick black Sharpie next to the I in Bitter had turned it into an E.

  She could still
hear her voice in the presentation. See how easy it will be? Just change one letter on every sign in town. She hadn’t meant literally and sure hadn’t meant before the popular vote.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  They turned as they reached the square, and Chloe couldn’t do anything but stop and stare.

  Every single sign over every single store had been painted with three lines to turn the I to an E. Beautiful, expensive, wood-carved signs—all ruined. And windows. Someone had spray-painted right on the windows.

  Better Bark Bakery.

  Linda May came marching out. “Someone’s going to pay for this!”

  “I will,” Chloe said softly, but Linda didn’t hear her.

  At Bitter Bark Buds ‘n’ Blooms, Max, the daisy-chain maker, stood in the doorway shaking his head, and Chloe stopped with her hand over her chest as if to say she was sorry.

  Would they blame her? Probably. Would they forgive her? She had no idea, but she couldn’t believe how much she dreaded the possibility that they wouldn’t. Would they make Aunt Blanche resign?

  She and Shane walked by to see the same damage on the bookstore, and Chloe imagined how sad Jackie would be when she arrived that morning.

  Billy, the owner of Bitter Bark Bar, was just pulling up in his truck, his window going down as if he had to get a better look at the defaced sign. “What the ever-lovin’…” He threw his door open, his gaze moving from the sign to Shane and Chloe. “Really sucks, man. Someone really sucks.”

  Shane went to talk to him as Chloe turned to see the vandalized sign on the brick column that marked the northeast quadrant of Bushrod Square, and suddenly, her heart dropped. The tree!

  “Not the tree!”

  No one would paint a two-hundred-year-old tree, would they?

  Without waiting for Shane finish talking to Billy, she darted across the street, flying into the square with her eyes on the tree. For some reason, she was flooded with relief to see it still standing. With no paint on the thick hickory bark.

  Still she ran closer to where a bronze plaque had been erected, its raised letters telling the story of how Thaddeus Ambrose Bushrod founded the town after the Civil War and named it for the tree. Thaddeus had been no horticulturist, that was for sure.

  But it was history and…

  The plaque was wrecked, a marker having turned the I into an E.

  Who would do this? Who? Why? If Jeannie and Mitch were out of town, could it have been Ned? An angry citizen? Kids?

  “Chloe!” She looked up to see Shane coming toward her. “Billy said he has a security camera and might have gotten a shot of who did this, and if we get an ID, they will get the heat of my legal wrath, which isn’t pretty.” He stopped for a second, searching her face like he was trying to read her reaction. “Don’t let vandalism make you stop, Chloe. Don’t let this make you give up or leave.”

  She rubbed her bare arms, feeling a slight morning chill for the very first time. “I’m not going to give up. I’m going to do what I do best.”

  “Fight?”

  “Clean.”

  * * *

  By four o’clock in the afternoon, Chloe had finished three of the four main streets that ran the perimeter of Bushrod Square. Her arms ached from scrubbing and dragging around a step stool and a bag of cleaning supplies. Her whole body stank of vinegar, which she’d learned that, when mixed with water, could mostly erase Sharpie. But the worst discomfort was in her chest, where she carried a heavy heart as she confirmed her greatest fears.

  An ugly seed had been planted and taken root, and any enthusiasm Chloe had drummed up for the idea of changing the town’s name had been eradicated like the marker and paint she’d been wiping away.

  And while some friends she’d made over the past ten days gave her sympathy, iced tea, and one more daisy chain for her four-legged partner, no one high-fived her or promised their vote at the town meeting the next day.

  She huffed out a breath and looked down the length of the last street, which included the library, Jeannie’s spa, Dave Ashland’s real estate office, and a few other shops and town hall.

  Oh yes, the meeting the next day would be right there in the general assembly room.

  She should be working on her presentation and changing things to address what happened last night, but she was cleaning instead. As she reached the steps of the town hall, she stopped and looked up, longing for some air conditioning, water, and a conversation with someone who was on her side.

  She texted Aunt Blanche and asked if she could come in with Daisy, and while she stood under a tree and waited for her answer, the heavy doors swung open and Blanche stepped out into the sunshine, looking for her.

  “Can I come in?” Chloe asked, coming forward to greet her.

  Blanche sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Because of Daisy?”

  “Because of you.”

  Her heart sank as Blanche led her around the side of the building where a few tables with umbrellas were set up for people who worked at town hall to eat lunch. They were empty this late in the day, and private.

  “I know people are pretty upset about this,” Chloe said. “And they blame me.”

  “Not for the vandalism,” Blanche said quickly. “But for…change. Honey, I underestimated how much a small town hates change.” She folded her hands in a prayer position and rested her chin on her fingertips. “Frank had this uncanny ability to know how and when to push change and in what way. I…” She shook her head.

  “You listened to me.”

  “Your idea is great.”

  “But too many people don’t like it.”

  She frowned. “Most people did like it until last night. And now they associate all this mess with you. There’s doubt and fear and uncertainty.”

  Chloe winced at the words, and Blanche instantly reached for her hand.

  “But we can’t sell this idea now. We can’t vote for a name change or any new tourism program.”

  Chloe gasped softly. “So, no meeting?”

  “We have the meeting scheduled and booked, and we have to have it, since James Fisker himself has decided to come in for it.”

  “The guy who owns a quarter of Bushrod Square?”

  “The very one. And no one knows he’s on his way, since he called me directly and told me to keep his arrival private, since he likes to pop in on his tenants and surprise them. While he’s here, we need to have the meeting and make…other announcements. But no vote.”

  “And no chance to go in and change their minds? How about some new ideas? I can come up with something tonight, Aunt Blanche. I know the town so well now, I can come up with something wonderful. I know!” She snapped her fingers a few times, instantly getting Daisy’s attention. “We’ll petition the Arbor Society to have the bitter bark tree recognized as the newest species of…”

  Blanche cast her eyes down.

  “Okay. We’ll make Thaddeus Bushrod a household name, somehow. Name a craft beer after him or…or have Thaddeus Thursdays when everyone dresses up…”

  “No, Chloe.”

  “You’re right, that’s dumb. But he was a Civil War captain, so we’ll arrange for one of those battle reenactments. We can have a…” Her voice trailed off.

  “I’m going to resign as mayor tomorrow,” Blanche said softly. “Dave Ashland’s going to run unopposed.”

  Chloe stared at her. “Because of this?”

  “Because I’m in over my head, Chloe. I’m no Frank Wilkins,” she said on a soft laugh. “And everything here reminds me of him. I may be moving out and starting over somewhere else.”

  “Aunt Blanche!” Chloe put her hand over her mouth in shock. “No! This is your home.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet,” she said quickly. “And I don’t want to upset you. You’ve done so much for me, dropping everything to move here, and…” Her gaze moved to Daisy. “Doing everything possible to implement your wonderful idea and sell this town. They a
ll fell in love with you, you know.”

  Not deeply enough. “They fell in love with Daisy,” she said. “Please don’t do anything drastic like move or even step down.”

  “Oh, I’ve stepped down. I’ve been in transition meetings all day.”

  Chloe slumped in disappointment.

  “Now, now,” Aunt Blanche said, reaching for her. “Sometimes these things happen for the best. It’s time to make a change, and this hasn’t been a horrible few weeks for you, I imagine.”

  She gave a weak smile. “There were some highlights.”

  “Do you care very much about him?”

  Oh so very much. “It was always temporary,” she said, but even as the words came out of her mouth, they tasted bitter.

  Blanche stroked Chloe’s shoulders, holding her as if she could prop her up. “I had a little fantasy this morning when you and Shane went marching into town,” she said. “I sat at your kitchen table and imagined that we won tomorrow. And that the town gave me the budget to offer you a job to stay here, and that you and Shane would get mar—”

  She put her hand on Blanche’s lips, not able to bear what was about to come out. “That isn’t going to happen,” she whispered, the truth of it hitting hard. “I’ve known Shane about two weeks, and I have a job and a life that aren’t in Bitter Bark, North Carolina.”

  The other woman lifted a dubious brow. “Okay, now give me a real reason my fantasy can’t happen.”

  Chloe swallowed and held her aunt’s gaze. “I can’t change who and what I am, Blanche,” she whispered. “I need control, and if I don’t have it, I panic, and I run. Shane’s been very good at getting me to give up some control. The dog. The friendship. Yes, even intimacy, which obviously is happening.”

  Blanche smiled.

  “But what you’re talking about is…” A barrier too far. “Love. Life. Space. Sharing. I’m not sure I’m cut out for any of that. That’s for people who are perfectly normal.”

  And she was Perfect Chloe, and there was nothing normal about that.

  “How dare she do this to you?” Blanche’s voice bubbled with an unexpected eruption of emotion. “It’s child abuse, what my sister did. And I knew it all along but couldn’t…wouldn’t…” She fisted her hands in frustration. “I didn’t do anything.”