Sit. Stay. Love.

by Karis Walsh

  “I was thinking of something casual, like a barbecue on Saturday. We could have some lawn games in the back and lead kids around the corral on some of the quieter horses.”

  He smiled. “That sounds like fun. Do you think it would be better to just invite the guests who are staying? That sounds like a cheaper option.”

  “Cheaper, but less visible. Look, catering only to tourists limits the potential of this ranch. You want local people to think of High Ridge when they’re planning anniversary weekend getaways or hosting friends from out of town. Locals might want to come for the trail rides, or to go white-water rafting with a group instead of going on their own. They’ll generate income without the overhead that guests incur, like housekeeping, laundry, and staff hours.” She handed him the folder. “I hope you don’t mind, but I called around and got a few quotes for food, tables, and such. Look through this, and if it sounds like a good idea to you, I can finalize the arrangements.”

  He took the folder and flipped through the pages. “You’ve put a lot of effort into this. You really think it’ll help the ranch?”

  “I believe so. I wouldn’t try to convince you to spend more money if I didn’t think it would pay off in the long run.”

  “Okay. Let’s go for it.”

  She nodded. “I’ll make the bookings tomorrow. Remember they’re coming to inspect the kitchen this afternoon. Everything seems to be in order, but call me if you have any questions.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, but then he laughed. “Well, I know exactly what I’d do. Go bankrupt.”

  She smiled and waved off his joke, even though she thought he might be right. She had come here determined not to get involved, but that plan had gone out the window and she didn’t care. He hated the tasks a manager had to perform, and she thrived on them. Not like her parents. She wasn’t going to do Chip’s job for him forever. It just was nice to feel competent and capable for parts of her day, as opposed to feeling overwhelmed and inept during the horse-related parts. Besides, she needed something to take her mind off Tegan and the annoyance of having to wait until Sunday for more than an hour with her.

  “Speaking of going bankrupt,” she said, holding up the personal check he had left sitting on top of her desk. “You need to open a business account. And incorporate, maybe. I don’t know enough about that to help, but you have to separate your personal accounts from the ranch somehow.”

  “I’ll look into it,” he promised, which meant she’d be making more calls this week. He handed her a dog treat. “For Lace. And say hi to the puppies for me.”

  “Any one puppy in particular?”

  “Nope. All of them.”

  “All of them it is.” She was going to need six festive bows.

  She drove back to the house and gave Lace her treat before letting her out the back door and in again. She went into the upstairs guest room she had been using as an office and picked up a stack of photos of the litter. Time to do some door-to-door puppy marketing.

  She had gotten in the habit of leaving the dogs’ bedroom door open to allow Lace freedom to go to the back door when she needed. The puppies had been furry little lumps until earlier this week, pulling themselves a few inches along the floor at a time before collapsing and taking a nap. With a surprising swiftness, they had become more mobile almost overnight and had been exploring every corner of their bedroom. Now they seemed ready to branch out, and when she came downstairs, she found them in the living room, making unsuccessful attempts to scale the sofa and reach their mother. Lace was curled in a tight ball in the far corner of the couch, watching Alana with wide eyes, as if in anticipation of getting in trouble.

  Alana sat on the other end of the sofa and watched the puppies jump at the couch, missing the seat by about six inches and falling backward again and again, toppling harmlessly onto the thick shag. They stubbornly refused to give up, and Alana ruefully guessed they’d be clambering up like little monkeys before the week was out. She had been feeling quite smug about her puppy handling skills, thinking she had managed to produce the puppy equivalents of Charm. She’d read articles and blogs about people complaining that their puppies chewed on everything and got into everything, all the while thinking to herself: You must be doing something wrong—mine sleep all day.

  She reached over and gave Lace a reassuring pat on her head. The pups had gotten quite demanding, jumping on her and biting her ears with their sharp new teeth, and she probably needed more alone time than she got during her quick forays into the yard. Alana slid off the couch and onto the floor, stretching her legs out in front of her. The pups immediately gave up on their mother and swarmed her instead.

  Alana did her best to remain unaffected. She wasn’t a dog person. She kept repeating that to herself, but it didn’t help her remain aloof as the pups chewed on her shoelaces and got into little snarl fights with each other on her lap. She picked up the female runt of the litter—disentangling her from the bigger sister who had been sitting on her head—and cradled the puppy against her neck. This one was nearly identical to Lace, only in miniaturized version, and Alana had been calling her Chantilly.

  Not out loud, of course. When she spoke about them to Tegan or Chip, she referred to them by generic group names. The puppies, the litter. At night, when no one else was around, Alana called them by the names she had given. They’d probably be changed once the dogs went to their new owners, of course, but Alana allowed herself this small indulgence since this was the one and only time she’d ever have a pet, unless she decided to have a cat or two around when she retired. Dogs couldn’t travel with her and weren’t allowed in hotel rooms. If she wanted puppies in her life, she’d either have to change careers or be satisfied going to pet stores now and again and looking at the dogs. Neither was likely to happen.

  “Ouch,” Alana said when Chantilly bit her earlobe, nearly giving her an ear piercing with her needle-like teeth. She set her back with her littermates and got up, calling for Lace to come with her. She jumped obediently off the couch and followed Alana into her room, with the pups trailing after her. Alana stepped out and closed the door. From now on, unless she was in the house and could monitor explorations, the dog bedroom door would need to be firmly shut.

  “Time to find new homes for you,” she said, with absolutely no pangs of sadness. Well, not really sharp ones.

  She got in her truck and drove to the first house along the road from hers. She was accustomed to thinking of neighbors as the people who lived immediately beside, above, or under her. Close enough to hear through the thin walls. The other houses in Alana’s new neighborhood might not even be in the same zip code for all she knew.

  Alana knocked on the door. The house looked similar to hers but was slate blue and in need of a paint job. The front yard seemed nice enough, and a privacy fence hid the back from view. An older woman opened the door and peered out at her. Alana could see the chain firmly in place.

  “Hi. I’m Alana, from next door.” She waved in the general direction of her house. “I’ve come by to see if you’re interested in adopting a puppy.”

  The woman shut the door, and then reopened it wider, without the chain. “You’re living in the old Harrison place?”

  “Sure,” Alana said. She had no idea, but she wanted to sound agreeable.

  “What did you say you’re selling? Kittens?”

  “Puppies. And they’re free, complete with vaccinations and a coupon for getting them spayed or neutered.” Thanks to Tegan.

  “Oh, I don’t want a puppy. Are you sure you don’t have kittens?”

  Alana was getting exasperated and she hadn’t even been at the first house of several on her road for five minutes. She was about to say no and leave, but she hesitated. Who knew what might move into the recently vacated nursery under her porch? She might as well keep her options open. “Not right now. If I find any, would you like one?”

  “No, I don’t want a kitten. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?�
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  She held the door open wider, and Alana got a glimpse of a living room laid out like hers, with similarly outdated furnishings. “Maybe another time. I need to take flyers to a few more houses today. Would you like one, in case you change your mind?”

  “All right.”

  Alana handed her the photo of the litter, while engaging in a swift internal debate. She really didn’t have time for tea. Still, it wasn’t as if the puppies needed to be adopted out today, since they couldn’t leave Lace yet. The woman’s crestfallen expression when Alana had declined her invitation was enough to sway her decision.

  “Actually, a cup of tea would be nice. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. Please, come in.”

  An hour later, Alana managed to extricate herself from the house. She had sipped a rather nice oolong and listened to Gladys talk about her family, admiring photos as they were brought to her from various surfaces around the room. A deceased husband whose face had been creased with smile lines—just like she imagined Chip’s would be when he was in his eighties. A son in nearby Ellensburg and a daughter in the Tri-Cities area, both of whom seemed to need a stern lecture about visiting their mother more often. The house was big and lonely and filled with reminders of the past instead of signs of the present. It could use a kitten or two to help circulate the stale air of memories. Alana tried to imagine her vast house if the puppies hadn’t joined her in it. It would have a completely different atmosphere, and Alana probably would have felt lonely enough to invite strangers in for tea. Her house wouldn’t have been crammed with mementos but would have been bare of everything but the basic necessities of survival.

  Alana drove away after promising to visit again. The next house on her route was an unadorned postwar ranch style home. It was painted an unobtrusive olive green, but the front door was a garish purple. A child’s plastic tricycle was parked near the porch, and Alana wondered if its owner had been responsible for picking the door’s color.

  The girl who answered the door was the most likely suspect. Alana had little experience with children and had trouble guessing ages, but this one looked like she wasn’t quite old enough for school yet.

  “I don’t know you,” she stated, with a fierce expression on her face. She looked ready to yell Stranger danger! and whip out a can of pepper spray, so Alana hurried to identify herself.

  “My name is Alana, and I live in the old Harrison place, just up the road.” The Yakima version of street cred. “May I speak to an adult?”

  The girl slammed the door, and Alana stood on the top step of the narrow porch wondering if she was going to return with a parent, or if she was dialing 911. She was about to slink back to her truck when the door was opened again by a woman about Alana’s age with a blanket-wrapped baby in her arms.

  “Can I help you?”

  Alana struggled for a moment with a question of ethics. She could see the young girl making a poor attempt to hide behind her mother and still watching Alana with suspicion. If Alana whipped out the adorable puppy photo and said she was giving them away, then the girl might add her voice to Alana’s in an attempt to get one. Two against one. Three, if the baby was old enough to know what a dog was. The mother looked as exhausted as Lace had today, though, and Alana didn’t think she needed to add another responsibility to her list.

  “I’m canvassing the neighborhood because I found some P-U-P-P-I-E-S under my porch and I’m looking for homes. You look like you have your hands full, though, so I won’t bother you.”

  “I can spell,” the little girl said, stepping out from behind her mother and glaring at Alana.

  “Of course you can, Michelle,” the woman said, shaking her head at Alana and mouthing No, she can’t. “I’m Jennifer, by the way. Come on in and have a cup of coffee.”

  “Oh, well, okay.” Alana was going to be too caffeinated to sleep. It would take her weeks to get the puppies adopted if she had to stop for hot beverages each time she knocked on a door.

  She sat on a stool at the kitchen counter and looked around while Jennifer poured the coffee. The house was clean but cluttered with Michelle’s toys and the baby’s paraphernalia. The puppies would love this place. They’d destroy it, of course, but they would love it.

  Jennifer put two mugs on the counter, along with a sugar bowl and a carton of whole milk. Alana added a little of both to her cup.

  Jennifer had her coffee black, inhaling deeply before she took her first sip. “I stopped breastfeeding last week, so I can have coffee again. I missed it.”

  “Mommy drinks a lot of coffee,” Michelle said, with heavy stress on a lot.

  “No, I don’t, Michelle,” Jennifer said, before mouthing Yes, I do at Alana. Alana wondered if all conversations were the same in this house, with a combination of spelling and mime revealing the hidden meaning behind the spoken words.

  Jennifer propped her chin on her palm. “Tell me some adult things,” she said.

  “Um…what kind of adult things?” Alana asked, confused by the demand.

  “Anything. I decided to be a stay-at-home mom until Brandon and Michelle are both in school, but I got to work at a local tax firm last month.” She sighed, as if reminiscing about a fabulous vacation to Fiji. “It was wonderful. People talking to me about 1089s and charitable donations. Interest rates and rollover IRAs. Adult things. I’ve been going through withdrawal since April fifteenth.”

  “Oh, those kinds of adult things. Okay, here goes.” Alana took a deep breath, fortifying herself before she spoke. “I recently lost my job in Philadelphia because I sent the Chief of Police into a bachelorette party as the stripper. I got a job leading trail rides, but I’ve never been on a horse before coming here, so I’m taking lessons and trying to cram years’ worth of practice into one month. When I got to my new house, I thought I had rats under the porch, but they turned out to be you-know-whats, so I’m trying to find homes for them.” And I’m wildly attracted to my riding teacher, and I think…I hope she feels the same way because I want to have sex with her this weekend.

  Alana kept the last part to herself. Adult fantasy, rather than adult reality.

  Jennifer was laughing at Alana’s recitation. “This is exactly what I need,” she said. “I have a lot of questions, but the most pressing ones are about the bachelorette party. Just let me get Michelle occupied in her room with some crayons, and then I want to hear the unabridged version of the story.”

  By the time Alana left, it was getting late and she gave up the project for the day. She was tempted to try one more house because it was close to dinnertime, and the next residents might offer her a meal instead of coffee or tea, but she went home instead. Home to puppies and egg salad sandwiches, and to an entire evening spent contemplating the fantasy she’d concocted around Tegan and their trail ride.

  Chapter Twelve

  On Sunday, Alana arrived early, only to find Tegan waiting for her in the parking lot and talking to Chip. She got out of the truck and set Lace on the ground before hauling out the crate. It had been the perfect size for one quiet dog and six tiny, sleepy puppies, but now the boisterous youngsters took up all the space inside it. Alana had put a dog bed on the back seat for Lace, and she got some peace and quiet during her trips to and from the ranch. Lace ran over to Chip and Tegan, showing more enthusiasm for life than Alana had seen in her before.

  “Hi, Alana,” Tegan said, taking the crate from her. “I was just telling Chip that I was going to show you some of the trails today.”

  “I wish I could tag along,” he said, taking the baby gate from Alana. He turned to Tegan. “I’ve been meaning to give her the grand tour of the ranch, but we haven’t been able to find a time when both of us could spare an hour. I appreciate you taking up the slack for me.”

  Alana had made certain their schedules never worked out. She felt more confident in her riding, thanks to Tegan, but she doubted she would be able to pass herself off as an expert in front of Chip. Yet. She was getting better every day,
and once she knew what to expect on the trails, she’d start putting in some serious mileage.

  “I’m happy to do it,” Tegan said, answering Chip but smiling at Alana as they made their way to the lodge’s entrance. “I haven’t ridden outside the arena for weeks now.”

  Once inside, Alana secured the baby gate to Chip’s office door. She had bought it the day before, after coming out of the kitchen to find the puppies partway up the staircase, tumbling down two steps for every one they climbed. She had only been out of the room for a couple minutes, just long enough to slap together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but it had been plenty of time for them to get into trouble. Lace had sat in her corner of the couch, watching them with a serious lack of parental concern, so Alana had hurried to the store for something to contain the adventurous pups. She hadn’t seen the need to buy two gates when she would only need them for another few weeks, so she had decided to haul this one back and forth, keeping it at the bottom of her staircase when it was in her house.

  She set down her heavy tote bag that was full of binders for the ranch and the horses, as well as Tegan’s riding books. She had managed to travel all the way across the country with nothing but a carry-on suitcase. Now she couldn’t start the five-minute trip from her house to the ranch until she had made three trips out to the truck with armloads of stuff.

  Tegan and Chip unloaded the puppies, taking far longer to do the task than necessary. They carefully placed them into the wading pool, which was a joke as far as Alana was concerned because the first ones were out of it and tearing across the office before the sixth one had been set down. Alana was still attempting to determine which puppy Chip liked best, but he didn’t seem to have a clear favorite.

  “Are you ready yet?” she finally asked, after watching them vie for the pups’ attention without showing any signs of stopping. “It’s going to be dark soon.”