Dog Sitters

by Rozsa Gaston

  Mysterious unidentifiable objects, bottles, jars, and hair ornaments decorated its glass surface. He was at a loss for words, even inside his brain, looking at the collection of feminine paraphernalia. Maybe his sister Bibi could help him with some basic vocabulary if he ever got a chance to spend more time in this room.

  "Great. More than great," he breathed out, unsure of what he was commenting on. Then he remembered she had asked how he had slept.

  She nodded at him, taking a sip from her mug.

  "Mmm. Nice and strong. Thanks," she said. A wisp of a smile curled her mouth into the cupid's bow whose arrows had already found their mark. She reached out and lightly stroked the area around his shiner.

  "Methinks my lady looks well in pink," he said, folding his fingers over her wrist.

  "You looked good in purple and green," she said.

  "I did?" What was she referring to? Then he recalled the lavender-scented scarf. "You liked me in your scarf, huh? Do you think I could wear it again?" He took a sip of coffee, surprised at how well it had come out. At home, his coffeemaking skills were hit or miss, but with Hint's satisfaction as motivation, he'd outdone himself.

  "We'll see." She gave him a quixotic look. "Let's figure out our plan for today."

  She looked like a fresh-faced teenager, sitting across from him. How could the same woman have tied him up with a silk scarf wearing a pink panther tee shirt the thickness of a tissue just eight hours earlier?

  "So what's our Saturday schedule?" he asked. Suddenly, he recalled the message on her answering machine of the night before. Would she be traveling into Manhattan that evening? Without him? His thoughts turned dark.

  "Maybe we should go back to Tom and Nicole's neighborhood and really scour the area," she suggested, breaking into his reverie.

  "We can drive over to Scarsdale, spend a few hours, and then—" he remembered their promise to Marguerite, "—drop by my sister's place to catch the end of Marguerite's birthday party."

  "What time is the party?" Hint's eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled.

  "It's from two to four."

  "I'd love to go, but…"

  "But what?" Jack waited expectantly.

  "Well, I guess I can, if I take a train no later than six. I've got to hop into Manhattan for something early this evening."

  Something? What did she mean by something? It was like all of those somethings on her vanity table and in her bathroom. The complete mystery of womanhood shut him out once again.

  "Will you be back later?" he asked.

  "I… I should be back by nine at the latest." Her expression remained neutral. Was it carefully neutral? He hoped not. One Annabel Sanford in a lifetime, with her wiles and deceptions, had been enough.

  "Oh." He took another slug of coffee. "Can we get together when you get back?"

  "We could…" Her eyes were averted now, the coffee mug hiding her mouth.

  "How about if you give me a call from the train once you're heading home, and I can pick you up at the station?"

  She looked at him levelly then finally spoke. "That would be nice." She glanced at her watch. "It's past ten already. Give me five minutes, and we'll move out."

  "I'll be in the living room." That would be nice, all right. A repeat of the night before would be so nice, he almost couldn't bear to imagine it. He tried not to and failed magnificently as he waited for her to get ready for their final full day of dog hunting.

  On his way to the living room, he dumped the remains of his coffee mug in the kitchen sink, glancing again at the notepad on the counter. Algonquin lobby lounge, 7 p.m. Sat. Derek Simpson. The words taunted him. He needed to know who and what Derek Simpson was to her, before the day was through.

  Chapter Eleven

  Five hours later, they had combed the area near Tom and Nicole's house, watered their friends' backyard plants and bushes, and were now on their way to Marguerite's house, to catch the end of her birthday party, as promised.

  Jack glanced sidelong at Hint as he drove. Would she leave him behind in the dust after tonight's meeting with whoever Derek Simpson was? He was probably the sort of man who wouldn't lose a dog. Gripping the steering wheel, he mentally throttled his rival.

  "Whatever you're thinking I'm thinking, I'm not thinking it at all," she said, reading his mind.

  "You're not? How do you know?" She was a cipher, with a way of saying things he didn't understand but that made his heart leap.

  "I'm guessing. But I think I'm right."

  "Do you mean you aren't going to hate me if we don't find Percy before Tom and Nic get back?" he asked.

  "No, Jack, I won't hate you. They're going to be angry with both you and me. We're in this together."

  "Aren't you going to secretly blame me?" Women did that, didn't they? Except that Annabel Sanford hadn't been secretive about blaming him for just about everything. Having attention deficit disorder, for starters.

  "Jack, women secretly blame men for things all the time. There's nothing unusual about that."

  "That wasn't exactly the answer I was hoping for." He gave her points for admitting what he already suspected about her sex.

  "That was the real answer. I'll be secretly blaming you for lots of other things, too."

  "Like what?"

  "If I tell, it won't be a secret any more."

  Suddenly, he understood feminine logic. It was logical, but sort of like fighting dirty. A man never knew what kind of weaponry the opposite side was using.

  "It's better if I don't hear anyway, right?" How could he defend himself against her? Better to lay down arms, hold out his own, and hope she would walk into them.

  "You got it." She smiled at him crookedly.

  She'd been talking in the present tense. About the future. About what women sometimes do to the men they're involved with. It didn't sound like she was planning to disappear from his life.

  "Let me ask you something," he said.

  "What's that?" Her finger stopped winding the tendril of hair at the side of her face.

  He took a deep breath and bit the bullet. "Who is this guy you're going to meet this evening?"

  "Oh. Him." Her voice was steady. "He's someone I was supposed to meet in Punta Cana."

  Her hair hid her face. Unfair.

  "Uh-huh." So far, not reassuring.

  "He… I… I had a meeting set up with him for Thursday, which I couldn't make." She looked over at him. "As you know."

  "Yes. I prevented you from making it."

  "No. Percy did. But anyway — he's coming to New York today and my cousin has set it up for me to meet him at seven."

  "Huh." Was that supposed to be an explanation? Her inarticulateness charmed him less than it had earlier that day.

  "I mean — it's business. I've been trying to get his attention for more than a year now."

  "You have? What do you mean by business?" He gave her a level look then locked his eyes back on the road.

  "He's seen parts of my portfolio. And he's interested. I need to show him the rest."

  "Huh." The car swerved ever so slightly under his unsteady hands on the steering wheel. He'd seen parts of Hint's portfolio, too. And he was extremely interested to see the rest. As well as to not let any other guy see it. "What exactly do you mean by your portfolio?" he asked, trying to keep his cool.

  "My drawings. You know, my fairy illustrations. Gnomes, elves, fairies — that sort of thing."

  "Ohhh…" He let out a long exhalation. "Of course."

  What a moron he was. She was a professional illustrator. What kind of portfolio had he thought she'd been talking about? There he was, reducing the woman of his interest to a sex object. He was no better than the next guy.

  "He's the head of Story Tales Press. It's the biggest children's book publisher in the world. It's based in the UK, and I've been trying to get in with them for a long time."

  "I get you," he said with relief. "So this is your shot at the big time, right?" He turned into his sister's driveway
.

  "Right. And I apologize for taking a few hours off from looking for Percy, but I need to catch him before he leaves town. He's British, and he almost never comes to New York."

  "Don't worry, I'll hunt for the hound. You get your drawings in front of this guy. Once he sees them, he's going to hire you." And once he sees you, he's going to want you. But that was ridiculous. Were all men animals? Only some of them, some of the time. One was trying not to be, at that moment, with limited success.

  Shutting off the engine, he turned to her in his seat. Her face was unexpectedly crestfallen.

  "It'll be our last night to find Percy. Our last chance before Tom and Nicole get back," she said, mournfully.

  "Don't worry, Hint. We'll find him." He wanted to hug her, but his mind told him to proceed cautiously until after her meeting with the Englishman later that day. He was glad to see she was thinking about the dog instead of the British twit. Then he pushed away further unreasonable thoughts and leapt out of the car to open the passenger door.

  ****

  "Uncle Jack, what happened to your eye?" Marguerite shrieked, the moment she saw him.

  Hint stepped to one side to make way for Jack to embrace his niece, who had torn herself away from a gaggle of small girls playing musical chairs.

  "Sweetie, it's nothing. I just got hit. Happy birthday, Maggie May!" He lifted the little girl up over his head as she giggled and screamed, her gaze fixed on the black and blue shiner on the left side of his face.

  "Is that a black eye? Who gave it to you? Did Annabel do that because you yelled at her for canceling our Broadway date?"

  Hint couldn't help but laugh. She could well imagine the likes of the patrician blonde she'd studied the day before, hauling off and punching a man who'd ruffled her feathers. Had his ex ever hit him? She'd guess if she had, it might have been for bringing the wrong color flowers or dressing inappropriately for some society event she had arranged for them to attend. But what had Marguerite meant by Annabel canceling their Broadway show date? She watched Jack raise an eyebrow at his sister before bending down to address his niece.

  "No, Peanut, it wasn't a woman who did this to me. It was a—" He paused dramatically. "—bad guy."

  "A real life bad guy? Wow. How did you meet him? Did you beat him up?" As Marguerite quizzed her uncle, her parents came out to greet them.

  Jack's sister Bibi silently appraised his injury then looked at Hint. "Hi, how are you? Did my brother get fresh with you?"

  "Not exactly." Hint laughed, the heat rising in her face. It hadn't just been Jack who'd gotten out of hand the evening before, thinking of the purple and green scarf. Au contraire.

  "Let's put an ice pack on that. Matt?" Bibi turned to her husband, who was studying Jack's face. He looked impressed. "Can you get the ice pack from the freezer?"

  Matt returned momentarily with an ice pack in the shape of a bunny rabbit.

  "That's my boo boo rabbit," Marguerite told her uncle.

  "Thank you, Funny Bunny. Now get back to your games. I want to see who wins musical chairs."

  Marguerite turned back to her friends as her father started the music again.

  Jack sat down on a folding chair lined up against the wall and motioned to Hint to join him. She sat, automatically taking the ice pack from his hands and pressing it against his left temple. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marguerite's father give his wife a significant look. After a minute, Bibi came over to Jack.

  "What's this I hear about Marguerite's date to go see a Broadway show getting canceled?" he asked his sister.

  "Actually, it's not canceled," Bibi said. "It's just that Annabel can't make the date. She called this morning to say something had come up and she'd be out of town on the date she purchased the tickets for." She shrugged, giving Jack a look as if to say, 'What did you expect?'

  "Why would she buy tickets for a date she couldn't make?"

  "She said something totally unexpected had happened — or maybe she used another word."

  "Let me guess," Jack said, sounding sour. "Something marvelous?"

  "Exactly. How did you know?" Bibi rolled her eyes. "She said something marvelous had happened and an opportunity had come up she couldn't pass on."

  "Of course you asked what it was," Jack continued, knowing his sister would have pressed for details.

  "Well, yes. I did. It was more or less girl talk. You don't care, do you?"

  "No. I don't." he said, enunciating each word clearly. "But I'll bet Marguerite did. What did you tell her was the reason she canceled?"

  "Well, I didn't exactly say. I just told her someone else would be taking her instead."

  "So what is the reason?" he asked.

  Hint blanched. Jack seemed a little too interested to know the details of his ex-girlfriend's social life not to care. She steeled herself for whatever lay ahead.

  "She said she'd been invited to some benefit in the Hamptons, and it was a must-do event," Bibi told him.

  "I'm surprised she wasn't already going," he commented.

  "She said she'd wanted to, but when she got back from Europe in April, it was already sold out."

  "Give me a break." Jack snorted. His mouth curled up at the corners, as if laughing at some sort of private joke.

  Hint suddenly wondered if this had anything to do with the man she had directed to Annabel the afternoon before at the Stanhope café bar. Impossible. It was inconceivable that a man the commanding blonde had just met might have invited her to such a fancy society event. Then again, thinking of Annabel in her red dress, tail feathers drooping, maybe not. Careful to keep a neutral expression, she caught his eye.

  "Something funny?" she asked.

  "Just history repeating itself," he said.

  "Yours?" She couldn't help herself. She needed to know. If it was time to re-route her emotions, she could do it. She had done it before with Tim. With Jack, she already knew it would be harder, even though they had only known each other a short time.

  "No." He looked directly at her. "Not mine. Someone else's, who's no longer a part of mine."

  His answer was clear. If she'd learned anything from the past, she knew the only way to move forward was not to drag it into the present and lasso it around the neck of a brand new relationship. Loosening the noose, she pulled it off. Then she sat back and took a deep breath. She wanted to hear what Jack had to say and not some chorus line of ghostly Tims drowning out her ability to evaluate his words objectively. Not all men were like her ex-boyfriend, with his divided heart. In the next few seconds, she'd find out whether or not Jack was.

  "Marguerite must be disappointed," he commented, turning back to his sister.

  "Actually, she's not too upset," Bibi told him. "Annabel said we're welcome to use the tickets ourselves. She bought three of them for some reason." She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Jack. "We just need to figure out who's going to take her instead of Annabel."

  "What are the dates?"

  "They're for next Saturday, July 1st. It's a matinee. Matt's boss is having a barbecue we can't miss, so we're stuck."

  "Looking for a volunteer?"

  "Sure, bro." Bibi smiled at her brother, who then turned to Hint.

  "You busy next Saturday?" he asked, resting his arm on the back of her chair.

  "I… No. I mean, who knows?" she stammered, blood rushing to her cheeks.

  "Will you join us? Marguerite would be happy, and it might be fun to spend a summer day in the Big Bad Apple. What do you say?"

  Elation filled her heart. Jack was no second-guesser. Not only was it clear he no longer wanted to get back together with his ex, but he was ready to use tickets Annabel had unwittingly made available, to take Hint to see a Broadway show. She could almost taste the revenge in his mouth. It was sweet, perhaps as sweet as the feeling she now had knowing his heart was whole, with no piece of it still carrying a torch for his former girlfriend.

  "Let me check my calendar, and if it's clear, then — yes," she said, tryi
ng not to look too excited. She told herself it was only an afternoon date with him and a little girl, but she knew it was more. It was Jack reaching out to let her know he wanted to see her again after Tom and Nicole returned. He'd just put his family on notice that he and Hint weren't just dog-hunting partners any more. She kicked herself for feeling so insanely happy with Percy still missing.

  "It's decided then," Bibi said. "I'll go get the tickets."

  Hint caught his sister's quick glance at Jack's arm, slung over Hint's chair, before she disappeared into the kitchen. Bibi was back in a flash and handed her brother the tickets, smiling at Hint over his head.

  Half an hour later, the party was over, with the girls' parents arriving every few minutes to take them home. As Bibi distributed the goody bags, Marguerite whispered something to her mother then ran upstairs.

  Hint enjoyed the festive atmosphere, but her mind was turning to her seven o'clock meeting. Butterflies rose in her stomach at the thought of presenting her best work to Derek Simpson in the informal atmosphere of a hotel lounge. Was it the right setting in which to make a professional impression? Since no other choice had been offered, she'd work with it. Nervously, she glanced at her watch.

  "Need to get going?" Jack asked.

  "Sort of. I've got to take care of a few things before catching my train." Decide what to wear. Figure out my hairstyle. Which jewelry. Which shoes. Did men slave over these details the way women did? It wasn't fair. She wanted to be judged on her work alone. But that wasn't how the world worked. She had only one opportunity to make a first impression. If it wasn't good, it would be her last.

  "Okay, Bibi." Jack rose. "We're on our way. Tell the munchkin I enjoyed her party."

  "She's getting something for you now." Jack's older sister gestured to the top of the stairs. "She's got a surprise for your goody bag."

  "I can pick it up next time I see you. We've got to get going." Jack took Hint's arm to help her up from her chair.

  "No, Uncle Jack. You need this now." Marguerite excitedly clattered down the stairs. Something small and black was scrunched up in one hand.