The Dog Town Collection

by Sandy Rideout

  Bridget gasped. “Vito!”

  “Just telling it like I see it,” Vito said. “Sully’s never asked a single favor all these years, and trust me, I owe him. So if he thinks your work merits profiling, I trust him. Besides, I’ve done some digging, and I can tell this story will tug a lot of heartstrings. Sounds like you’re quite a matchmaker.”

  Duff’s smile warmed the room and gave Bridget the courage to turn back to the mayor. “I do have some conditions, though, Mayor,” she said.

  His lips pressed together in a tight smile. “I don’t think you’re in a position to list conditions, Birdie.”

  “Bridget,” Sullivan corrected him.

  The mayor ignored him. “I could have you arrested for this morning’s public disturbance.”

  “I got some great footage of the rally,” Vito said. “I totally loved the political statement they were making with the dogs.”

  “Political statement?” The mayor’s brow furrowed.

  Vito laughed. “Well, the purebred elites were getting the worst of it with those fibreglass mutts, weren’t they? A few residents told me mutts and rescues aren’t necessarily welcome in Dog Town anymore. Is that true?”

  “Of course not,” the mayor said, rising. “All dogs are welcome in Dorset Hills. It’s our brand.”

  “Whew! I was worried about that. It seems like such a nice place, so I’d hate to profile it otherwise.”

  Standing eye to eye with Bridget, the mayor said, “What are your conditions, Birdie?” He paused deliberately before adding, “I mean, Bridget.”

  “First, I’d like full control of my event at Seaton Park. It will show the very best of Dorset Hills, and we’ll make sure the television feature tells that story.”

  “Fine. And…?”

  “You need to rehire Mike, effective immediately. I simply can’t do it without him.”

  “He’s back in business. Are we done?”

  “No. I need you to direct the police and the CCD to investigate a dog poisoning. I’m confident they’ll find the evidence they need. I’m sure you don’t want news of an attempted dog killing to get around.”

  The mayor’s normally ruddy face actually paled. “Bridget, this is a very serious accusation to make in Dog Town.”

  Bridget took a deep breath and fought back tears. “I nearly lost my dog, sir. I have my theories and some evidence but I’ll need expert help to get to the bottom of it.”

  “I’m fascinated to hear more,” Vito said. “Let’s go get some background shots.”

  Duff and Vito rose, and the mayor said, “I’ll send investigators over immediately.”

  “We’ll see you on Thanksgiving,” Bridget said. “You’ll be on stage with me, of course, and we’ll talk to your staff about booking an interview with Vito.”

  “Looking forward to it, Mayor,” Vito said, offering his hand. “You’ll bring your dog, I hope?”

  “Speaking of dogs, I have someplace to be,” Bridget said.

  The mayor’s hand was still outstretched, waiting to shake Bridget’s, when she left.

  “I knew something was up the minute I saw that girl squeezing the life out of that teabag,” Bronwyn said, as they stood on Sullivan’s porch watching officers combing the property. “You could tell she wasn’t a dog lover.”

  Sullivan raised his eyebrows. “Well, she did own a Chihuahua at one time.”

  “Which she surrendered. It’s a sign of poor character.”

  “She also had a creepy doll collection,” Bridget said. “I wouldn’t disclose that if she hadn’t tried to kill my dog. But I’ve never forgotten the feeling of all those eyes staring down at me from glass shelves. I never realized she’d moved to this area.”

  “The police think she wanted to live closer to Sullivan,” Duff said, joining them. She’d been following the cops around, but the mud had caked up on her heels to the point where Dog Officer Moller had to set her feet free.

  “You had no idea she was unbalanced, Sullivan?” Bronwyn asked.

  He shook his head. “I barely knew her, ma’am. She was very quiet. But I had no reason to believe she would…”

  “Go over the edge,” Bronwyn supplied. “From what I can tell, this Grace had a vendetta against Bridget for turning her down for a rescue dog. She hung around the bistro watching for a chance to get revenge.”

  “That’s how she heard about our plans to renovate the barn,” Bridget said, shuddering. “Do you really think she meant to burn the place down?”

  “I hope not,” Bronwyn said. “I think she’s just a very fragile girl. It was probably the last straw when you two started canoodling.”

  “Canoodling? Is that what we were doing?” Sullivan smiled for the first time since Bridget had confronted him with the news.

  Bronwyn waved her bangles. “I don’t need to know the details. But I can tell when my daughter likes someone almost as much as her dog.”

  “Mom, please.” Bridget shook her head.

  “Ma’am, I sincerely hope I can surpass the dog in her affections one day,” Sullivan said.

  “Oh, you poor boy,” Bronwyn said. “If you think that can happen you’re deluding yourself. You’re best to aim for a very close second. It worked terrifically well for Bridget’s dad and me for over thirty years.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement,” Sullivan said. “But I have to get Beau to like me first.”

  “Good luck with that,” Bridget said. “Although you can start your campaign when he gets home tomorrow.”

  “On that I think he’ll prevail,” Bronwyn said. “Beau’s a smart dog. I suspect he knew from the first time you two met that he had a rival.”

  “Mom!”

  “Bridget, I just call it like I see it. Now, let’s let Andrea order us all around so the pageant is a smashing success, and I can go home to my own dogs.”

  “I know they miss you,” Bridget said, smirking.

  “They do indeed. I’ve already skyped with them to tell them how much they’ll love it down here in Dog Town.”

  She laughed and jingled into the house with Duff, leaving Sullivan and Bridget to circle each other for a moment before he finally went in for a hug. “This has been one hell of day,” he said, into her hair. “Do you know what I need?”

  “I do,” she said. “I know exactly what you need. Let me show you my woodpile.”

  Chapter 25

  It was a classic Thanksgiving Day in Dorset Hills. The sky was bright blue, the sun shone, and the winds were kind. Somehow Seaton neighborhood had held onto its leaves better than most areas in town. Bridget almost suspected the City of tree doctoring. She was sure they’d all been bare the week before. But maybe it was just a change in her perspective.

  There was no denying that Council had pulled out all the stops for the pageant. Mike and Duff worked together seamlessly, directing contractors with supplies, media and the TV crew, and volunteers to coordinate everything else. The mayor had even sent mobile grooming and spa teams to Bridget’s house in the morning. The house had been full of preening women and dogs, and unlike her first makeover, Bridget had thoroughly enjoyed this one. Even Cori had succumbed, and she looked the spitting image of Audrey Hepburn. Bridget was a little startled by how stunning her friends looked, lined up for photos for the Dorset Hills Expositor. She had been seeing their hearts all these years without fully appreciating the packaging.

  No one was happier about the free makeover than Bronwyn. She absolutely revelled in it, and when a stylist came over with outfits for her alone, she saw it as a bonus, not an insult. That was one of her mother’s strengths, Bridget realized. She didn’t get hung up on the small stuff. She was also a charmer when she chose to turn it on, and there was no stopping her on Thanksgiving Day. Everyone got a blast of Bronwyn’s sunshine, even Mayor Bradshaw.

  “Did you see that?” she said, coming over to Bridget, beaming. “Bill didn’t have a clue who I was and he hit on me again. Twenty years later. I can’t tell you how satisfying it was to
leave him hanging again, Bridget. Upstairs, your dad is applauding.” She pointed her hand skyward, but… no jingles. The stylist had convinced her to leave the bangles at home lest the noise interfere with the recording.

  “Excellent, Mom. Can I ask you to keep up the good work? We need the mayor in good spirits and hopefully focused on you and not the TV crew.”

  Bronwyn took the job seriously and stuck by the mayor for the rest of the event. It gave her an excuse not to get her hands dirty in the Seaton Park build.

  With nearly 200 people in attendance, including two dozen skilled tradespeople, the refurbishment didn’t take long at all. The bare gravel was covered with a thick layer of fragrant cedar woodchips, and planters with trees and bushes sprang up all over. A team poured concrete in one corner to anchor the plastic agility equipment. The pond Bridget requested hadn’t materialized, but the smallish fountain that did arrive would offer clean running water in warm weather. And unexpectedly, there was playground equipment for kids of the human variety.

  “This is amazing,” Cori said, joining Bridget. Her Audrey Hepburn glow had worn off, but she was all smiles. “I’m going to offer free obedience and agility classes to get people more interested in working with their dogs.”

  “Sounds great,” Bridget said. “I’ll mention that when I announce the winners.”

  Throughout the build, she’d kept a close eye on all the pageant contestants. Two dozen people teamed up on one area of the park, laying an intricate stone path through some shrubs that would flower in spring. The project allowed Bridget to assess how well they collaborated. At this point, it was just a matter of choosing the kindest people and then comparing them with her list of the 11 remaining rescue dogs. She actually left the park for 20 minutes and sat on a bench across the street to think through the pairings. When she noticed the camera zooming in over the fence, she turned her back. This was where the magic happened. She had to feel it in her bones.

  Finally, she was ready. She went up onto the makeshift stage they’d quickly erected and beckoned the mayor. Together, they called up the winners, one by one. The cheers, tears and applause made for great memories, and this year, great TV. Trixie Dayton was paired with Lulu, the dog the Fergusons had been caring for. Mrs. Ferguson was in tears, and Sullivan had to walk her out of the park for “air.” Meanwhile, Vito swooped in to interview Trixie, and then Jonas Barnes, who had been unsuccessful in winning a rescue dog, but quite successful in impressing Trixie. If all went as Bridget hoped, that would be another match made in Dog Town.

  All the pageant winners gathered with Cori and Maisie to get their instructions on care and handling. They’d be meeting for months, to ensure a smooth transition. It was part of the success of the program. And in fact, those sessions fostered the human matches. There was nothing like bringing like-minded dog lovers together.

  “Time for the ball to end, Cinderella,” Sullivan said.

  Normally, Bridget stayed till the last person left the park, and then joined participants at a little after-party. This year, she left that to her crew, because she had a more important mission.

  Slipping away with Sullivan, they drove to the vet’s office to pick up Beau. Sullivan stayed outside to let Bridget have a private reunion. She sat on the floor and took the whining, writhing dog in her arms. The mascara so carefully applied earlier ran down her face and she didn’t care. When she walked Beau out to the van, and got in beside Sullivan, she truly thought her heart would burst.

  But the day had more to give yet. She arrived back at her house to find it filled with people and the smell of dinner cooking. Bronwyn, back in her harem pants, was at the stove, overseeing the reheating of a full turkey dinner, also compliments of the mayor.

  “He’s going all out for this TV feature,” Bridget said, as she helped set the table with paper plates. She only had mismatched dishes for eight and they were already over that number.

  “Honey, you need a nice set of dishes,” Bronwyn said. “I’ll bring a set down next month.”

  “Next month?” Bridget was craving some peace and quiet after all this hubbub—a chance to relax without a constant stream of people. It would be good to curl up before her own fire.

  “I’ll need to make it down before the snow, obviously.” Bronwyn stirred the gravy and checked on the vegetables in the oven at the same time.

  “You hate Dog Town at Christmas,” Bridget said. “You said it’s overdone and ridiculous.”

  “And I look forward to mocking it with all of you.”

  “It’ll be great to have you back,” Duff said, giving Bronwyn a one-armed hug as she reached for the cutlery. “I need help keeping the crew in line.”

  “You don’t need help from anyone, Andrea,” Bronwyn said. “You’re a crackerjack event planner and you’re wasted in real estate. Have you considered wedding planning?”

  “She’s right, Duff. You did an amazing job, especially considering the circumstances. I could never have gotten through this without you.”

  “Aw, thanks you two. I do like bossing people around! I can’t do that enough in real estate, so maybe I’ll plan my exit strategy in the new year.”

  Bridget ran her hand along the chipped laminate counter. “I’m sure happy you landed me this prize before discovering another calling. It’s becoming Mafia headquarters.”

  Slipping upstairs to her bedroom, Bridget emailed her financial advisor to tell him the pageant had raised enough to cover the bridge loan, and she’d be in soon to sign the paperwork. He got back to her immediately, saying, “The loan’s already been paid. I’m assuming you’re acquainted with Bronwyn Linsmore?”

  “Mom!” she ran back down the stairs.

  “Don’t run around like that, hon. You’re flustering Beau.”

  Gritting her teeth, Bridget hugged her mother hard. “I just heard what you did at the bank. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Bronwyn batted her eyelashes. “You need a fire under your butt to work that hard, Bee. I learned that long ago. So now, this is just a sweet surprise, and you can put the profits into building your kennel.”

  Bridget stood, slack-jawed, until her mother shoved her toward the living room to mingle with the guests.

  Bronwyn’s open invitation had been taken to heart. In addition to the Mafia, Sullivan and Vito, were Frank, Trent the retired cop, and Ron the firefighter.

  There was a knock at the door and Bridget’s stomach dropped when she saw Joe Moller standing on the porch. “What can I do for you, Dog Officer Moller?”

  “For one thing you can stop calling me that, ma’am, as I am no longer with the CCD. I resigned yesterday, after getting accepted onto the Dorset Hills police force.”

  “Congratulations, Joe. So you stopped by to…?”

  “To tell you the CCD discovered a footprint in the plowed soil behind your barn matching the ones at Mr. Shaw’s composter. Also, several packs of chewing gum stashed in the barn.”

  “Chewing gum?”

  “Xylitol, ma’am. Enough to kill a dozen dogs, easy.”

  Bridget leaned against the doorframe, her head spinning and her stomach now roiling. “Did you get her?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am.” Then he shrugged. “Well, I’m technically between law enforcement jobs, so what the hell. Yeah, we did.”

  “Grace is under arrest?”

  “Very much so.”

  Bridget pumped his hand. “Thank you. And Happy Thanksgiving, Joe.”

  She tried to close the door but he held it ajar. “Ma’am?”

  “Dog Officer?”

  “Right. Bridget. Well, Nika invited me here for dinner.”

  “She did?” Craning around, she saw Nika watching shyly from the kitchen. “She did.”

  “Only after she knew I quit the CCD. And that your kennel license has been approved.”

  Bridget grabbed him by the collar and pulled. “Get in here. And be nice to my friend, or else.”

  She closed the door and leaned against it, mar
velling at the sight of so many people filling a home she didn’t even imagine owning the previous Thanksgiving. At the stove, her mother was offering mashed potatoes off a spoon to Frank Mason. Bridget shuddered. No. That would be too close for comfort. They’d talk about that tomorrow.

  Meanwhile, Sullivan sat on the floor beside the fireplace, alternately tending the fire and scratching Beau’s stomach. The dog who never rolled for anyone but Bridget had his paws in the air, one hind leg kicking idly. They’d both been wrong about Sullivan, clearly. She’d have to monitor their biases going forward.

  “How are you feeling?” Duff said, coming over to stand with her.

  “Stunned. Queasy. But it’ll pass, I guess.” Filling her in on Joe’s news, Bridget added, “I can only hope Grace will be locked up someplace were the tea is strong and the food fatty.”

  “I’m so glad this is over,” Duff said, hugging her. “Time to look forward. And on that note, I take it all is well with Sullivan?”

  Bridget nodded. “He’s going to rent out the Fergusons’ place to decent dog people so I won’t have to worry.”

  “So, all’s well in Dog Town tonight.”

  “There’s just one more thing I’d wish for,” Bridget said.

  Someone pushed open the door, and Bridget moved out of the way. Cori came in, clutching a writhing mass of terrier. “Happy Thanksgiving,” she said, dropping the dog.

  “Fritz!” Sullivan yelled. The scrappy brat hurled himself hard enough to knock Sullivan over. Beau gave Fritz a disdainful look and walked over to Bridget, who stroked his ears.

  Bridget turned to Cori. “You’ll work with Sullivan, right? He’ll need a makeover to manage that dog.”

  “A trainer’s work is never done.” Cori smiled as she plucked off her gloves, starting with the orange middle finger.

  “It’s done for now,” Bridget said, ushering her friends to the table. “Tonight, we give thanks. Tomorrow we find new ways to serve the good dogs of Dorset Hills.”

  Dedication