by Judi McCoy
They strolled along the rock and iron fencing of Central Park. Up ahead, people wandered in front of the Guggenheim, and she wondered if Kevin McGowan was already there watching her do her thing with Hilary. She wasn’t used to a handsome stranger taking an interest in her work, never mind remembering the buildings that housed her clients. He was either an extremely in-tune kind of person or he was actually interested in her. Since it was difficult to imagine a lawyer in either position, she had no idea how to act with him.
“Oh, no! Go on now. Shoo!” Hilary waved her free hand at a squirrel. The bushy-tailed rodent chattered, but continued to bound alongside the dogs. “Scat.” She picked up a stick and raised it high, threatening to throw it. “Get away!”
“Hilary. Stop. It’s a squirrel, not a wild boar.”
The woman dropped her arm. “I hate the little bastards. And look at all these pigeons, soiling the sidewalk with their droppings. If I had my way—”
“They’re not hurting anyone. Of course, if it bothers you so much, you could always scoop their poop when you picked up the dog waste.”
Hilary frowned. “You may enjoy doing this, but I don’t. If one of my friends spots me, I swear, I’ll die of embarrassment.” They waited while Sampson and Millie squatted. When the dogs finished, Hilary thrust the leads at Ellie, dug in her pocket, and slipped on a pair of latex gloves.
Now the woman looked like a worker at a hazmat site. Ellie sighed. Maybe Rudy was right. Hiring Hilary hadn’t been such a bright idea, after all.
Hilary pulled a few plastic bags from her other pocket, bent, and gingerly picked up the waste. They traveled another two blocks while the rest of the pack pooped their hearts out and the scenario was repeated.
On the way back to the apartment complex, Ellie again scanned the museum. Finished with the renovations on the façade, the Guggenheim was back to its original beauty. People clustered in groups of two or three, most of them taking photos. Kevin could be anywhere, or still at home. Though he’d told her his apartment was near here, she decided she really should ask him where he lived.
Hilary continued making small talk while Ellie tuned out her whining and instead paid attention to their charges, who seemed subdued. When they reached Sampson’s apartment, Hilary unlocked the door, unhooked and hung up his leash, and resecured the door.
“What about his treat?” asked Ellie.
“Treat?”
“His biscuit. Remember, I told you to buy a box and carry them on the outings. Each dog gets one when they’ve been good on a walk and are back in their home.”
“I forgot. Is it really so important?” asked Hilary.
Ellie pulled a biscuit from her bag and corrected the error. “It’s very important. I advertise special care for my guys. That means play time, biscuits, extra TLC. If you want to work for me, you have to do it, too. Ditto with the notes on how the pups did on their walk.”
They took the elevator to the next two units, where Ellie passed out treats from her tote while Hilary composed notes. Now in front of her apartment, the woman shrugged. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to remember the biscuit thing and the memo thing. I really do intend to make this work.”
Divorce is traumatic, Ellie reminded herself, curtailing her temper. “I’ll bring a box from home tomorrow. How soon do you think it’ll be before you can do this alone?”
“Maybe another day or so.” Her assistant held an un-gloved hand to her forehead. “I might be coming down with something.”
“I sent the paperwork to the bonding and insurance companies. You should be legal in a week or so.”
“Well, that’s good. Let me know if there’s a problem.”
She closed the door, and Ellie sighed. Good thing she’d left those “help wanted” sheets hanging at the local colleges. With Hilary’s lackluster attitude, paper mask, and latex gloves, she’d probably need a new assistant before the week was over.
She stood on the corner of Fifth and Seventy-eighth, waiting for the light to change, when her phone rang. “This is Ellie,” she answered, hoping it was someone calling about the assistant’s job.
“I got a ticket about your dog walker ad.” The male voice was muffled, as if the speaker held a hand or a towel over the receiver. “How about I come to your place tonight, so we can talk?”
Ellie heaved a breath. “Who is this?”
“Someone who wants the job. I’d like to come to your apartment, so we can discuss it.”
Surprised a stranger who wanted a job would sound so demanding, she said, “I don’t give people I’ve never met my address, but we can make a date for coffee. May I have your name?”
“Well, I don’t give my name to someone I’ve never met. You think about that, and I’ll call you later.”
The line went dead before she could reply. Then the traffic signal changed, and she headed across the street, regaining her composure as she walked. That guy had nerve, rudely bossing her around when he was the one who needed work. If he called again, she’d tell him she’d already hired someone and hang up on him they way he’d done to her.
Putting the call behind her, she gazed at the Guggenheim, a beautiful museum shining in the sunlight, as stately and imposing as Frank Lloyd Wright had intended, and checked her outfit in a coffee shop window. She’d dressed nicely for her appointment with Sal Cantiglia, and she didn’t want to make a mess of her dinner date with Kevin McGowan.
Ellie swallowed at the word “dinner.” How could she have forgotten about Rudy and the boys? Not only would her petite protector be annoyed that she hadn’t told him about her date, he’d be furious she wasn’t home in time for his walk and supper. She dialed Viv’s number as she continued toward the Guggenheim, and when they connected her best friend assured her she was on her way home at that very moment and would be happy to take care of Rudy and the Chihuahuas. Ellie even managed to hang up before Viv had the chance to grill her on the reason why she’d wouldn’t be home in time to feed her dog.
Tucking her phone in her bag, she spotted Kevin, reading a glassed-in notice of an upcoming art event on the museum’s front door. No doubt about it, the man was eye candy in the Godiva price range. Tall and dark-haired, with a killer set of buns, he was dressed in navy blue slacks and a pale yellow golf shirt.
She walked to him and whispered, “Think they allow dogs inside?”
He didn’t glance her way, just continued perusing the information. “Says here the only canines allowed are Yorkiepoos. Know anybody who has one?” Then he turned. “Oh, Ellie. I didn’t know it was you.”
“You’re such a kidder,” she responded, grinning.
“I try. I saw you walking a group of dogs with a woman a little earlier. Did she own all of them?”
“Hilary? Lord, no. Hers was the tiny white poodle. The rest are her charges.”
“Her charges?” He nodded toward the curb, where a taxi was dropping off passengers.
“Yep,” she said, sliding into the cab. “She’s my new assistant-in-training. Until her bonding and insurance papers come through, I have to go with her on the walks.”
“So you have an assistant. Good for you.” He gave the driver the name of a restaurant and the address. “Do you pay her enough to make a living?”
“Hardly, since it’s only part-time work. She’s just hoping it will bolster her support money.”
“But you and the judge said that anyone could make a good living at it, once they got a client list going. Correct?”
“Stanley and I have been over the numbers, so it’s possible. But he’s a financial genius, and I’m not.”
“I imagine Georgette has an opinion on the matter?”
“Too much of an opinion.” She relaxed in her seat. “According to Mother, I might be making money now, but the entire business could fall apart at any moment. She’s the one who lent me the money to keep myself afloat during the separation and first few months after my divorce became final, and I’m going to pay her back every penny if it’s the last thing I
do.”
“I take it your ex wasn’t the generous type?”
“To put it mildly.”
“And that woman—Hilary—is she having marital problems?”
“She’s heading for the same deep water I was in, so I hired her. It might work out, and it might not. Only time will tell.”
“I see.”
They pulled up in front of an Italian restaurant with outdoor seating, and Kevin paid the driver. “The weather’s good. Want to eat outside?”
The bistro had a dozen tables on the sidewalk, and it was early enough that most of them were empty. “That’s fine.”
He led her around the iron fencing and held out her chair. “Great. I’ll get a waiter.”
“I had a nice time.” Ellie stood on the first step leading up to the porch of her apartment building, which made her eyes almost level with the six-foot-tall Kevin McGowan. “Thanks for dinner, and the escort home.”
“I had a great time, too. If I didn’t have to be at work so early in the morning, I’d ask you to invite me up for a while.”
“Oh, um, maybe next time?”
“My calendar’s full for the rest of the week, but what about Saturday night?”
She opened and closed her mouth. Perhaps it was time she reread the Book of Revelation, just to be certain it didn’t mention the apocalypse was near when Ellie Engleman was asked on a second date by an articulate and handsome man.
“I’m free anytime,” she said, in case he’d made a slip and really meant a Saturday night in 2011.
“Tickets to a play and dinner? Or are you up for something less serious? I think the Yankees are hosting the Angels.”
The theater? A big-time sporting event? She almost swooned. “Either is fine with me. I just need to know which, so I’m dressed for the occasion.”
“You’ll look dynamite in whatever you wear. I’ll call you.” Holding her elbows in his hands, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across her cheek. “Thanks again.”
Frowning, she watched the taxi pull away. Kevin had just used the same line Sam had when he’d written that brush-off note, so she wasn’t holding out hope she’d ever hear from him again, but she was still amazed by the evening. Climbing the steps, she entered the building and used her key to get her mail, then turned to open the main door.
And as she did, a man said, “It’s about time you got home.”
Ellie’s thousand-decibel shriek bounced off the lobby walls, echoing like a fire alarm while she fumbled in her bag for her Mace. By the time she pulled it out, the surprise visitor had her pinned against the wall.
“Take it easy. It’s me.”
She stopped struggling, blew a flutter of curls from her forehead, and glared. “What the heck are you doing, sneaking up on me like some two-bit Jack the Ripper? I ought to get a restraining order, or better still call the cops, anything to keep you out of my hair.”
Sam’s teeth glinted in the darkness. “I am the cops, but go ahead if it’ll make you feel any better.”
She shrugged from his grasp, and he stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I thought you saw me.”
“Does it look like I’m wearing night-vision goggles? And why should I expect anyone to be hiding in the entryway of my complex at nine in the evening?” She pushed against the lobby door, but it didn’t budge.
“Why didn’t he come up?” Sam asked, changing topics.
“Now what are you talking about?”
“The guy who brought you home. Why didn’t you invite him to your place?”
“Remind me to add stalking to the list when I apply for that restraining order.” Fidgeting with her keys, she finally got the door open and stomped inside. “As for my date, Kevin is none of your business.”
They made it to her landing before he asked, “Kevin? Are the two of you an item?”
Ellie rested her back against the wall next to her front door. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets like a first-grader unhappy with the rules of a game he was forced to play. “It’s a reasonable question.”
“It’s a none-of-your-business question,” she bit out. She entered her foyer and swung around to block the doorway before he stepped inside. “What do you want?”
“We need to talk.”
“I doubt it.”
“What’s he doing here?” Rudy yipped by way of greeting. “I thought he was out of our lives for good.”
She grabbed his leash and dropped to one knee. “Quiet. Where are the boys?”
“Those bean eaters? How the heck should I know?”
“You’re supposed to keep them out of trouble,” she whispered. Standing, she said to Sam, “I have to find my houseguests. Stay here.”
Cheech and Chong were wide awake, tails wagging, in the kitchen. After hooking them to leads, she brought them to the door, where she found Sam and Rudy glaring at each other as if they wanted the same bone. Not willing to play referee, she tugged Rudy and the Chihuahuas into the hall, pulled the door closed, and led them outside for their evening walk.
Sam kept pace until the brothers stopped and found a spot to drop. “What are we waiting for?”
“Take a look, sport.” She nodded to the squatting Chihuahuas. “It’s not rocket science.”
A second passed. “Oh.”
She whipped a plastic bag from her tote and passed it to him. “Here. Do something useful.”
He squinted at the bag. “Me?”
“I don’t see anyone else making a pest of themselves. If you’re going to tag along, you might as well pull your weight.”
She grinned when he stooped and scooped. After pressing the seal, he held out the offering. “Now what?”
“Drop it in the nearest trash can.” She took off at a clip, the dogs trotting alongside. Let him run to catch up if what he had to say was so important.
“Where are we going?” Sam asked when he reached her side.
“I don’t know about you, but the boys and I are going to Carl Schurz Park.”
“At this time of night? Do you have a death wish?”
“What I have is Mace and three canine companions.” They crossed Third and continued east. “No crook worth his salt would dare bother me.”
“Those hairy hamsters wouldn’t hurt a fly—and neither would you. I had you pinned in your foyer before you pulled the can from your bag.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” She dug out the Mace and stuck it in her pants pocket. “Better?”
He mumbled a curse as he walked. Determined to make him work for the time he spent with her, Ellie ate up the sidewalk until they arrived at the gates to the park. At this hour of the night it was deserted, though she knew Sam was right about an unsavory element lurking somewhere in the vicinity. She led the dogs to the fenced run and unclipped their leashes, then sat on the nearest bench.
Sam plopped down beside her, breathing heavily. “Do you come here often?”
“A couple of nights a week. The boys have to take a trip outside before bed, and Viv claims she needs the exercise. I have the stamina, and she’s safer if I’m by her side.”
“Safer? With you?”
“Stop knocking my defensive skills. I did all right with Bibi and Fortensky, didn’t I?”
“Two women brawling like cats in a sack isn’t the same as protecting yourself from a felon with a hand-gun. You stroll this town alone. Anything could happen to you.”
She folded her arms and humphed. “Like you care.”
“I do care,” he said crossly. “Protecting the citizens of this city is part of my job.”
“Well, take me off your list of Manhattanites worthy of your concern, because I’m thinking of getting a gun,” she threatened. “That way you won’t have to lose sleep worrying about my safety.”
“God help us.” He cleared his throat when she glared at him. “Then you didn’t suffer any permanent damage after the night we found Buddy and the others?”
Yo
u’d already know the answer if you’d bothered to pick up the phone, she almost blurted. “Rudy was in bad shape for a while, but the bruises and his cracked ribs healed. I was no worse for the incident.”
They sat in silence, until Sam said, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you like I wrote in the note.”
“Don’t give it another thought. Neither of us made any promises.”
“Still, I said I’d be in touch and I—”
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” she interrupted. No way would she demean herself by whining.
He rested his elbows on his knees. “A couple of things. First, did you find an attorney and get the will registered?”
“It’s taken care of. I’m now the person of record for Garick Veridot. According to Uncle Sal, I need to gird myself for an onslaught of creditors and distant relatives, each of whom will want a chunk of his estate.”
“You have an uncle who’s a lawyer?”
“He’s the uncle of a friend, and he seems knowledgeable enough. Says I should be careful of anyone who asks about Gary and tell them to contact him if they have a problem.”
“Do you have to report what you inherited to the government?”
“Sal says until you hit two million there’s no need in this state, though it will have to go on my federal tax return, and I’ll probably have to pay some sort of estate tax. He also thinks I’ll hear from a lot of people, whether they’re related or not. Apparently, there are scam artists who investigate the will registrations weekly, hoping to find a sucker. And there still may be some folks who remember the Veridot family and their fortune.” She peered into the dog run and spotted Rudy giving the cold shoulder to Cheech and Chong. “They might cause trouble.”
“Have you made any decisions about the money?”
“I plan to sit on it for a while, like you suggested, though I’ll need some of it to have Gary cremated. And I probably should have his belongings hauled out of the park when the police say it’s okay to disturb the crime scene.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m not looking forward to the task.”