“Gee, let me think.” Lara gazed up at the ceiling, pretending to rack her brains. “Oh, that’s right: All the time.”
Justine shook her head. “I told you not to be dependent on a man. That’s very different. Once you’re self-reliant, you have the luxury of deciding whether to trust people. You should be with someone because you love him, not because you need him.”
Lara considered this. “But with Evan, I felt like I loved him and I needed him. Right up until I flushed his engagement ring down the toilet.”
Justine reached over and brushed Lara’s hair back from her forehead. Lara was so startled by this spontaneous affection, it was all she could do not to flinch.
“You are astonishingly generous,” her mother said. “It’s the best thing about you, but also your fatal flaw because you’re always willing to give people one more chance. Some people don’t deserve one more chance.”
Lara tried to decode the underlying message here. “So you’re saying don’t have lunch with Dad?”
“I’m saying that time is a precious resource—time and money and energy. You are a precious resource, and unless you start seeing yourself that way, you’re going to deplete your reserves and have nothing left to give.”
“But that sounds so . . . stingy.”
“Only if you don’t think you’re worth taking care of.” Justine nodded to indicate that this discussion was now at an end. “And by the way, there’s spit-up all over your shoes and the floor. Please move to a carpeted area; stomach acid isn’t good for the wood varnish.”
“And you say you’re not maternal.” Lara had to laugh as she grabbed a dish towel and attempted to wipe up the vomit while continuing to soothe the baby. “Don’t try to hide it, Mom. You’re practically Mary Poppins.”
Chapter 21
The alarm clock buzzed at six o’clock on Monday morning, jarring Lara out of a sound sleep. Her hand shot out from the warm cocoon of covers and smacked the snooze button. She knew she ought to get up, but she snuggled in for an extra ten minutes of rest. Justine might have her faults, but the woman knew how to decorate a guest bedroom. It was so dark in there, so cozy under the comforter, so quiet. . . .
Lara scrambled up to a sitting position. The room was absolutely silent. All she could hear was the faint rustle of the air moving through the ducts by the door to the bathroom.
No snuffling. No scratching. No snorting.
“Mullet?” she whispered, climbing out of bed.
Linus, sprawled out next to her on the mattress, lifted his head, then dropped it again and let out a long, rumbly sigh as he went back to sleep. Rufus and Raggs didn’t even stir in their crates.
No matter how she strained her ears, she couldn’t detect any of the surly Shih Tzu’s wheezing or grunting.
Then she noticed the tiny sliver of pale light by the doorway. The door was ajar just enough to allow a stealthy little dog to slip out into forbidden territory.
The foyer floor.
Lara sprinted toward the grand entryway, her pulse roaring in her ears. She skidded to a stop and started examining the gleaming planks of wood and leather for scratches, teeth marks, or gouges.
“Lara?” her mother’s voice called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
“It’s me.” Lara swallowed hard as she followed the scent of freshly ground espresso beans. She rounded the corner to find her mother standing by the counter, stirring skim milk into her morning coffee. Mullet was sprawled in the middle of the floor with her tongue hanging out.
“I assume you’re responsible for this”—Justine glanced down—“creature?”
Lara nodded, mute with horror.
“It showed up in my bed in the dead of night. On my face, actually. I’ve never been awakened by slobber, and it’s an experience I hope never to repeat.”
“I understand, Mom, and I am so sorry. I swear to you that we’ll all be out of here soon—I’m going to go talk to a real estate agent this weekend—but I’ll be more careful about closing the door to my bedroom.”
“What did you say this unfortunate mongrel’s name is?”
“Mullet. As in Billy Ray Cyrus.”
“An affront to hairstylists everywhere.” Justine kept staring. She appeared to be hypnotized by the sheer hideousness of Mullet’s fur. “Why is it so bedraggled?”
“She’s had a tough life,” Lara said defensively. “Scarring and tangles so bad we have to shave her bald. And PS, it’s a girl.”
“Ah.” Justine gave Mullet a wide berth as she walked around to Lara’s side of the counter. Mullet struggled to her feet and flounced after Justine, snuffling and snorting all the way.
The two divas ignored each other in a truly awe-inspiring display of indifference.
Lara glanced at the microwave clock. “You’re up early. Want to walk the dogs with me?”
“No, thank you.”
“Oh, come on. It’s still dark outside. No risk of sun damage, no chance of running into anyone you know. Let’s get our sneakers on.”
“Excuse me? Half the neighborhood is roaming the streets right now, jogging and power walking and driving to work. Forget it.” Justine tucked a magazine under her arm and started back toward the master suite.
“Mom. Every time I try to get you to go out in public, you say no.”
Justine continued her leisurely stroll. “Yet you persist in asking me.”
“Well, I’m curious.” Lara tagged after her. “What would it take to make you say yes?”
“There’s nothing that would make me say yes.”
“Sure, there is. According to you, everyone has a price.”
Justine straightened her shoulders. “You’re asking what would convince me to go out and expose myself to ridicule and pity from people I don’t know and schadenfreude from people I do?”
“No. I’m asking what would convince you to go to the damn grocery store,” Lara replied.
“Hmm.” Justine pondered this over a few sips of coffee. “You know, maybe I do have a price. You’re interested in finding a house, correct?”
“I am.” Lara started to grin as she shared her good news. “And it’s a nightmare trying to find a rental to take the dogs, but since I don’t have much of a down payment, I thought buying was out of the question. Well, it turns out that Melissa O’Brien—she’s the one with the dock-diving begollie, remember?”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Never mind. Anyway, her husband is a big muckety-muck at the bank, and they’re going to help me qualify for a loan.”
Justine’s face remained carefully neutral. “Really.”
“Really! And since I became the Dog Doyenne of Mayfair Estates, I make enough to cover a mortgage. It’ll be cheaper than renting, actually. Check it out—I’m an entrepreneur, just like you.”
Justine looked at Lara. Lara looked at Justine.
Finally Justine said, “Very well. If you let me go house hunting with you, I’ll go grocery shopping afterward.”
Lara narrowed her eyes. “Why do you want to go house hunting with me?”
“That’s immaterial. You asked my price and I named it. Take it or leave it.”
Lara wheedled and whined and stamped her foot. Then she gave in to the inevitable. “Fine. But you have to keep your opinions to yourself, and you are not going to pick out my house.”
“We’ll see.” Justine smiled a victor’s smile, then opened the door to her bedroom.
Lara heard the click of nails against floor tiles. Moving faster than Lara had ever seen her, Mullet skittered around the corner and darted through the door to the master suite. “Is she going in there with you?”
Justine scowled after the Shih Tzu. “I don’t see why she would.”
“Mullet!” Lara called. “Hey! It’s walking time. Walk! Hello?”
All the other dogs came running, but Mullet ignored her.
“I’ll let her out in the yard,” Justine said. “But after that, she’s going right back into your room. I won’t b
e able to concentrate on my Scrabble game with all that snorting.”
“Well, don’t get attached,” Lara warned. “She hates everyone.”
“Perfect. So do I.”
* * *
“I’ve got a new one for you,” Jason said as soon as Lara walked into the clinic for her appointment with the office manager. “Female boxer mix, about two years old.”
Lara braced herself. “Give me the bad news.”
“No bad news.” Jason spread out his hands, the picture of innocence. “She’s young; she’s healthy; she’s even spayed.”
“Uh-huh.” Lara remained skeptical. “So what’s the deal?”
“Owner surrender. It’s a married couple, and the wife is jealous.”
“Of the dog?”
“Yeah. She says they picked out the dog together, but now the dog only likes the husband and it’s ‘ruining the intimacy of their marriage.’”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I know—I could barely keep a straight face,” Jason said.
“Must be some dog. Any aggression?”
“No, she’s a sweetheart. She does seem to prefer men, though. I brought her by this morning to meet the staff, and she barely looked at the women.”
“Uh-oh.” Lara got a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Are we dealing with Mullet the Second?”
“No way.” Jason had clearly succumbed to the boxer’s charms. “She’s just a guys’ girl.”
“Okay, I’ll start working on her Web site bio.” Lara created profiles for each dog in the rescue group’s care. These featured flattering photos and read like personal ads: Sweet-as-pie snuggle addict seeks confirmed bachelor for long runs in the park and lavish affection. Loyal to a fault. “What’s her name?”
“Lucy.” Jason paused for dramatic effect. “Lucy Fur.”
Lara burst out laughing. “You lie.”
“The husband named her Lucy. The wife added the Fur. I couldn’t make this stuff up.”
“When do I get to meet this little femme fatale?”
“Want to do a playdate at the park tomorrow evening with Maverick and the spaniels?”
“No can do,” Lara replied. “I’ve got another conformation competition coming up this weekend, so Eskie and I are doing two training sessions a day. Plus I’ve got personal training with Roo the flabrador, swim practice with Cleo the begollie, and urban scent training with the Jane Austen hounds. Oh, and house hunting with my mom. I’m booked solid.”
“Swing by tomorrow at lunchtime,” Jason suggested. “Fifteen minutes. Ten.”
“I’ll try,” Lara promised. “But I’m so swamped right now that even one more obligation is going to push me over the edge.”
Right on cue, her phone rang, and she answered against her better judgment.
“Hey, La-la.” Her father sounded so excited and proud of himself that she had to smile. “What are you doing right now? We’ve got a surprise for you.”
* * *
“Sorry I’m late.” Lara used a tissue to blot the sweat from her forehead as she loped across the grassy library plaza toward her father. “My last appointment took forever, and then there was traffic. I hope you . . .” Her voice trailed off as she spied the black and tan puppy squirming in Trina’s arms.
Gil rose from the bench and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Meet the newest member of our family.”
“This is Teddy,” Trina announced with the pride of a new mother. “We just bought him yesterday.”
Lara had lowered her face to receive puppy kisses, but she jerked back up when she heard this.
“He’s a great dog,” her father said, quickly and a bit too loudly. “But I read on the Internet that Rottweilers tend to be stubborn and willful, so I’m hoping you’ll help us out with the obedience training.”
Lara tucked her hair behind her ears and tried to hide her dismay. “I’m sorry. Did you say you bought him?”
Trina nodded, oblivious to the tension. “I saw him at the pet store at the mall and I just fell in love.”
Her father smiled indulgently and rubbed Trina’s back. “She had to have him.”
“But . . .” Lara looked to her father, bewildered. “I had no idea you wanted a dog. Why didn’t you ask me?”
“I didn’t know I wanted a dog until I saw Teddy.” Trina nuzzled the little guy against her cheek. “And then he was the only one who would do.”
“Don’t get upset, honey,” Gil soothed, returning his focus to Lara. “I know how you feel about pet store puppies.”
“No,” Lara said. “I really don’t think you do.”
“I know you’re against them.”
“Yes, but do you know why?” Lara prepared to launch into her lecture on the evils of puppy mills—the irresponsible breeding practices, inhumane living conditions, and resulting health and behavioral problems.
Then she saw Trina’s blissful, adoring expression and decided to save her breath. Trina was not going to hear a word of her long-winded diatribe. Trina was strung out on soft puppy fur and sweet puppy smell.
Lara watched owner and dog interact, and she had to admit that it did seem to be a pretty good match. The chemistry was definitely there, even though Teddy was a little bit lacking in the looks department.
Perhaps Lara’s recent stint in the dog show ring had made her hypercritical, but she couldn’t help noticing that Teddy fell woefully short of the breed standard. His muzzle was too long and pointed, his eyes were close-set, and the bones and muscles in his shoulders were not aligned at the proper angle.
This roly-poly puppy was a genetic nightmare, and would probably develop painful and expensive orthopedic issues in the next few years.
But Lara didn’t say any of that. She saw how happy Trina looked, and how happy her father looked, and she managed to squeak out, “Congratulations.”
“Teddy’s going to be in our wedding,” Trina confided. “I asked the florist to make him a little wreath to wear around his neck.” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “I just hope we can get him potty trained by then.”
“Well, the wedding’s not for months and months, right?” Lara asked. “You’ve got plenty of time.”
“Actually, the wedding’s going to be any day now,” her father announced. “We decided to skip the formal ceremony and fancy reception and all the hassle and just go for it.”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Trina said, in a wistful voice that made Lara suspect that she had very much wanted the formal ceremony and fancy reception. “The marriage is what’s important, not the wedding.”
And now Lara recognized this puppy for what it was—a consolation prize. Gil had gotten his way with the wedding, but Trina was still going to feel as though her fiancé indulged her every whim.
“Are you going to get a great dress, at least?” Lara asked.
At the mention of dresses, Trina jerked out of her puppy reverie and plunged into her bridal reverie. “I found a gorgeous gown on sale last week. It’s a cocktail dress, technically, but it’s made of this flowy, creamy chiffon—”
“Don’t encourage her or we’ll end up with a veil, a six-foot train, and twelve bridesmaids.” Gil chuckled. “We’re just going to city hall and then inviting a few friends and family members to lunch. Nothing fancy. We’d like you to be there, of course.”
“Absolutely.” Trina’s smile got even wider and more sparkly. “And we have something to ask you.”
Her father shook his head slightly at his fiancée.
“Is it about Teddy?” Lara asked.
“It’s nothing that can’t wait,” her father said. “Let’s focus on one thing at a time.”
“Like potty training.” Trina winced as Teddy started gnawing on her knuckle. “I really could use any tips you could give us.”
“Tip number one: You can’t let him do that.” Lara reached over and gently pried the puppy’s teeth off Trina’s index finger. “He’s going to grow up to be a big dog, not to mention a breed with a bad public rela
tions rep, so you have to start teaching him bite inhibition right now. Nipping is not cute and it’s not funny. It’s unacceptable.”
Trina nodded, her eyes huge. “How do I correct him?”
Lara yearned to reply that it was his mother’s job to teach the puppy bite inhibition, but that Teddy’s mama had probably been unable to do so due to premature separation from her litter. She restricted her response to: “You redirect him, firmly and consistently. Also, right now he’s in a critical period for socialization, so you need to get him out and about every day. Expose him to a wide variety of experiences because his personality is going to get more rigid as he matures. If you want him to swim, start putting him in the pool now. If you want him to get along with other animals, start introducing him to cats ASAP.”
“Okay.” Trina stroked the puppy’s head as he started mouthing her wrist again. “But how do I get him to stop peeing on the carpet?”
Lara sighed, reached over, and pried Teddy’s mouth off Trina’s skin. “Do you have a crate?”
“No.” Gil smiled apologetically. “We were hoping we could borrow one from you.”
“What are you feeding him?” Lara asked.
“Right now we’re just using up the little sample bags the store gave us,” Trina said.
Lara rattled off a list of high-quality kibble brands, then said, “Rottweilers can be great dogs, but you have to be serious about training from the very beginning. Have you heard of the ‘Nothing in Life Is Free’ training theory?”
Blank looks all around.
“This whole thing was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision,” Gil said.
“Yeah, I can tell.” Lara’s annoyance must have showed, because her father shifted into his calming caretaker mode.
“Don’t stress—it’ll be fine.”
“It’ll be fine for you because I’ll take care of everything,” she snapped. The words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush, and she immediately turned to Trina. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey.” Gil’s smile never wavered, but his tone sharpened. “Take it easy, sweetie. It’s just a puppy—no big deal. When did you get to be so type A?” He turned to Trina. “This is Justine’s influence.”
The Lucky Dog Matchmaking Service Page 17