Boomer's Bucket List

by Sue Pethick

  “Of course you did,” she said. “Just like you hurt every other woman in your life: so you could get back at dear old Mom.”

  “What?”

  “‘Guess I’m still bitter,’” she said, mocking his own words. “ ‘I haven’t forgiven Mom for getting rid of my dog.’ ”

  Nathan’s lips thinned. “You’re crazy.”

  “Am I? What other reason would you have to ridicule me in public?”

  “Julia said they’d give me my column back if I did an exposé on you and Boomer. I figured you’d lie if I came right out and asked you about it.”

  “Oh, please. This isn’t about doing what your editor wants, it’s about proving that any woman who’d love you can’t be trusted.”

  “Wrong. I was doing my job, period. Julia said there were rumors that Boomer wasn’t really sick. It was my duty to check it out.”

  “No, Nate. When you lost Dobry, you decided to show the world that you didn’t need anyone, and to prove it you used the one talent that sets you apart to tear other people down. You can’t stand the thought that Boomer is really sick because that would mean that I’m getting the chance to say good-bye—a chance you never had.” She put a trembling hand over her mouth. “When you said I shouldn’t coddle him, I listened to you. I’ve been tiring him out when I should have gone back home and let him spend his last days around the things he loved.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

  “Oh? Well, I suppose you’d know since you’re the master of saying terrible things.”

  Jennifer pointed to the door.

  “Get out,” she said. “We can figure out how to get you to LA in the morning. Assuming, of course, that that’s where you’re really going.”

  Nathan set his hand on the door and contemplated the rain outside.

  “There’s a bus station a few blocks from here. I’m sure I can find a way there.”

  Jennifer watched impassively as he zipped up his jacket and opened the door. There’d be time for tears later, she told herself. Right now she just wanted Nathan Koslow out of her sight.

  CHAPTER 28

  There were no bouquets or stuffed animals on Jennifer’s doorstep that morning, no letters of support tucked into her mailbox. Now that Nathan Koslow’s column had cast doubt upon the truth of Boomer’s illness, the only thing Stacy got when she stopped by the town house were dirty looks from the neighbors. She decided to skip having coffee on the balcony and go straight to work.

  The mood in the office was subdued. Mr. Sellwood was at his desk, quietly fuming, and clients were being ushered in and out like visitors to a funeral home. Derek Compton was meeting with Jason behind closed doors, no doubt working on a plan for damage control. Everyone knew that the burst of interest the agency had gotten from potential clients when Boomer’s Bucket List took off might very well turn ugly if something wasn’t done soon. Stacy had spent an hour the night before trying to contact Boomer’s veterinarian and have him confirm the dog’s condition, but without Jennifer’s okay, there was nothing he could do. Once this meeting was over, she had no doubt that the boss would have her call Jennifer and ask her to call the man’s office. Stacy just wished she knew how she was going to break the news.

  The thought of what would happen after that made Stacy’s stomach churn. What would Jennifer do when she found out about Boomer’s Bucket List? Would she see it, as Stacy did, as a tribute to her dog, or as a way for Compton/Sellwood to cash in on her private agony? Either way, she knew, it would be Stacy that Jennifer would blame. Without the photos she’d shared, the Web site could never have been created. Any good feelings there’d been between the two of them would be lost.

  The phone rang, and Stacy pulled her thoughts back to the present. For now, at least, she still had a job to do, and fretting about what might or might not happen in the future wouldn’t make things any easier. She adjusted her headset, put a smile on her face, and answered the call.

  “Compton/Sellwood, this is Stacy. How may I direct your call?”

  Jennifer’s voice hit her like a slap in the face.

  “Stacy, this is Jennifer. What the hell is going on out there?”

  Tears sprang into Stacy’s eyes. She’d thought she could face whatever happened, but the cold fury coming through her headset was worse than anything she’d imagined.

  The door to Derek Compton’s office opened, and Jason stepped out, giving her a questioning look. She pointed at the phone and mouthed the word “Jennifer.” He nodded, stepped back inside, and shut the door.

  “Hello? Stacy, are you still there?”

  Stacy swallowed the lump in her throat, fighting to keep her voice under control.

  “Please hold for Mr. Compton.” She reached for her console to transfer the call, then paused. “I’m sorry,” she said, and pushed the button.

  The three of them—Stacy, Jason, and Derek Compton—stood around the speakerphone in the CEO’s office. As soon as Stacy had transferred the call, Jason came back out and told her the boss was insisting she take part in the conversation. Jennifer’s voice sounded calm, almost bloodless, as she vented her frustration, devoid of the kind of animation that made her such an inspiring person to work for. Stacy felt like crawling under the desk.

  “I want it taken down, Derek—now. You had no right to use those pictures.”

  Jason shook his head and looked pleadingly at Compton. Of the three of them, he had the most to lose if Boomer’s Bucket List went away. The response they’d gotten from the Web page had been a coup for his social media team. If it ended in humiliation for the agency, there was no doubt that heads would roll, the first one being his.

  Derek Compton scowled, waving off the other man’s concern. From the way the conversation was going, Stacy could tell that the boss had already made up his mind. Jason was expendable; Jennifer Westbrook was not.

  “Sure, Jen, sure,” he said. “I completely understand where you’re coming from; that column was a shock to all of us. But believe me, the Web site was created with the best of intentions. Don’t you think you ought to at least take a look at it before we pull the plug?”

  “You don’t honestly think I’m going to change my mind, do you? Derek, Nathan Koslow accused me of perpetrating a hoax; my reputation is on the line.”

  “And I’ve already demanded an apology from his editor. As soon as your vet’s office calls and confirms Boomer’s diagnosis, the Trib will issue a retraction—”

  “Which almost no one will see. And the ones who do will still suspect that something fishy is going on. Damn it, you know how these things work!”

  As Derek Compton’s face darkened, Stacy backed away, remembering the screaming match they’d had when Jennifer told him she was taking a month off. She closed her eyes, praying that the two of them would take a step back before things were said that couldn’t be unsaid.

  “I think you’re being unfair,” he said, his voice tightly controlled. “There was no way that any of us could have known what Koslow was planning, and in spite of what you think, this wasn’t just about attracting business. Boomer’s story has touched a lot of people, and frankly I don’t think it’s fair to leave them hanging.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  There was a long pause as options were considered. Jason shook his head, mouthing the words, “No way,” but Compton raised a hand to stop him.

  “All right,” the boss said. “I’ll have it taken it down today.”

  At that, Jason turned on his heel and stomped out of the office. Stacy watched him go, her relief mixed with unease. If heads rolled after this, chances were that one of them would be her own. Where was she going to find another job in this economy?

  Jennifer was still on the line. Derek Compton sat down behind his desk and picked up a pen, staring glumly at the speakerphone.

  “If you could give Dr. Samuels’s office a call and have them release Boomer’s records, we’ll get that retraction in the works.”

  “I’ll do
that. Anything else?”

  “I’m thinking of having the agency put a full-page ad in the Trib, telling people the truth about Boomer’s illness. It may not satisfy everyone, but at least our clients will see it. No one would be doubting your honesty.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it. Do you need anything else from me?”

  Compton sighed, rubbing his temples. He glanced at Stacy; she shook her head.

  “No, I guess that’s it.”

  “Good,” Jennifer said. “Then do me a favor and transfer me to the front desk. I have a few things I need to say to Stacy.”

  Stacy’s eyes widened. She shook her head, silently pleading for him to say no. Instead, Compton gave her an admonishing look and pointed toward the door.

  “Hold on a minute,” he told Jennifer. “I’ll get her for you.”

  Stacy felt sick as she returned to her desk. There was nothing she could say to make things better, only that she was sorry for what had happened. As tempting as it was, blaming the other two wouldn’t be fair. The fact was, it had been her idea to make a memorial page for Boomer, and if it hadn’t been for her own incompetence, she’d have been the only one in trouble now. Better to just face the music and get it over with. She stiffened her resolve and answered the phone.

  “You want to tell me how this happened?”

  The tightly controlled quality of Jennifer’s voice had changed to one of injured pleading. Stacy felt her chin pucker.

  “It’s my fault,” she said, unsure exactly how the whole thing had gotten started. “I thought it would be fun to do a memorial page—a private one, just for you—but I couldn’t figure out how to do it, and I guess I was watching the GIF of Boomer eating his breakfast when Mr. Compton walked by and asked what I was looking at and I felt like I had to show it to him… .” Her voice trailed off as she stifled a sob.

  “Is that why you asked me to send you those pictures? Was that your plan all along?”

  “No!” Stacy shook her head. “That wasn’t it at all. Honest, I wasn’t lying about that. I was just really concerned about your safety.”

  “I believe you.” Jennifer sounded weary. “I just don’t know what to do now. Things out here have gotten … complicated.”

  “Because of that reporter?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “But Mr. Compton’s going to take care of that. As soon as your vet tells his editor that Boomer’s really sick, they’ll print a retraction.”

  Jennifer’s sigh was painful to hear. Stacy closed her eyes, wishing that she could turn the clock back so that none of this had happened.

  “Why not at least check out the Web site?” she said. “Mr. Compton is right. You might really like it.”

  “No,” Jennifer snapped. “I’ve wasted too much of Boomer’s life being ‘connected.’ I promised I’d be spending this time with him and that’s what I’m doing.”

  “I know. I just thought maybe, if you could see what a good job they did—”

  “That what? All would be forgiven?”

  Tears flooded Stacy’s eyes. It was no use trying to make amends. The best thing for her to do now was to apologize again and let Jennifer decide what to do about their relationship. They both knew she’d been in the wrong. Only time would tell if what she’d done could be forgiven. She wiped away a tear.

  “Any idea when you’ll be back?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jennifer said evenly. “I guess it all depends on when my dog dies.”

  *

  Jennifer put the phone down and stalked across the motel room, muttering to herself as she packed her bags. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting from the phone call, but it certainly wasn’t that. Derek Compton acted as if he and Jason had been doing her a favor, not holding her pain up to public ridicule. Did he have any idea what she’d been going through the last week and a half, waking up in a cold sweat to check on her dog, terrified that every day would be Boomer’s last? That her own employer had been capitalizing on the prospect of Boomer’s death hurt almost as badly as what Nathan had done.

  She heard a whimper and saw Boomer cowering in the corner. Jennifer had a vague recollection of her dog darting off the bed when she and Derek Compton started to argue. No doubt, he’d picked up on the tension in her voice and body language in spite of what she’d thought of as her admirable self-restraint. She put down the shirt she was folding and held out her hand.

  “It’s okay, Boomie. Nobody’s mad at you. It’s all right.”

  Boomer got hesitantly to his feet, his head down, his tail hugging his hindquarters, and Jennifer felt a stab of guilt. Between her fury at Nathan the night before and the quiet fuming she’d been doing that morning, the poor dog must have thought he’d done something wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” she cooed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Boomer’s tail came up, and he started toward her, relief evident in the happy wiggle of his body. His pace quickened, he was stretching out his neck, poised to receive her reassuring pat. Then he fell forward and collapsed at her feet.

  Jennifer screamed.

  CHAPTER 29

  The trip to the animal hospital went by in a blur. After her first horrified reaction, Jennifer was relieved to find that Boomer, though unconscious, was still alive. Her screams had yielded one unintended benefit, though, as two strong men showed up at her motel room door to offer their help. As they placed Boomer gently into the back of her truck, the assistant manager called an emergency vet service, told them they had a patient on the way, and drove them there. Jennifer sat in back, stroking Boomer’s head and whispering assurances. Once Boomer was with the vet, she forced a twenty into the man’s reluctant hand and paid for a taxi to take him back to the motel with her heartfelt thanks. Now there was nothing for her to do but wait.

  The waiting room was cramped, about the size and shape of a galley kitchen, with two rows of straight-backed chairs that faced each other across a narrow coffee table. A few ancient copies of Dog Fancy magazine and a stack of brochures for heartworm pills were all there was to read. Jennifer picked up one of the magazines, flipped through it for a few minutes, and set it back down with no recollection of what she’d read. Her thoughts were too scattered, her emotions too raw, to make sense of what was happening. First Nathan and now Boomer. Trying to imagine a future without either of them was like staring into a bottomless pit.

  She shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the furtive glances coming from the receptionist’s desk. The woman had been conducting her clandestine surveillance ever since Jennifer and Boomer arrived, and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Whatever was on this woman’s mind, she’d rather hear it straight out than sit there and imagine the worst. She walked over to the reception window and found the woman engaged in a whispered conversation with one of the veterinary assistants.

  “Excuse me,” Jennifer said. “I don’t mean to be rude, but do we know each other?”

  The women shook their heads, wide-eyed.

  “No, ma’am,” the receptionist said. “But we know you.”

  “We love Boomer’s Bucket List,” the assistant blurted. “So do our patients.”

  Jennifer bit back a retort. Wasn’t it bad enough that she had a life-or-death situation on her hands? Did she really need to be dealing with more fallout from that stupid Web site? Look at them, sitting on the sidelines like a couple of ghouls, waiting for Boomer to die. She’d have expected better from people like that.

  No, she thought, that wasn’t fair. She had no right to be judging these women. After all, they weren’t the only ones who’d been caught up in the frenzy caused by her agency’s misadventure. She forced herself to smile.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” she said. “To be honest, I’ve never seen it.”

  The two women stared.

  “Never?” the assistant said.

  “Nope.”

  “Would you like to?” the one at the desk asked. “I can show it to you on my computer.”


  Jennifer hesitated. She had to admit she was curious. She’d even been tempted to check it out on her iPhone, but had refused out of sheer stubbornness, unwilling to cede even an inch of ground to Derek Compton. With Boomer behind closed doors, though, and nothing else to do but fret, she figured she might as well take the plunge.

  “Sure,” she said. “Why not?”

  The two women hovered at her shoulders as Jennifer started scrolling through the Web site. She was speechless. Perfect strangers had sent in hundreds of pictures and videos of Boomer in only a few days! There he was at the motel, the Blue Whale, the Round Barn, and—Jennifer cringed—judging the dog show at the fair. From the steak house alone there were multiple shots: a waiter tying on his “bib”; Boomer licking the butter off a roll; snarfing down his steak. She laughed. There was even one of Boomer wrinkling his nose at the sparkling wine. No wonder they’d had so many waiters that evening, she thought. Every one of them must have been vying for a prize in Jason’s Where’s Boomer? contest.

  And as she scrolled farther down the page, Jennifer started noticing a pattern. The photos where Boomer looked the happiest were the ones where both she and Nathan were with him. She felt a lump in her throat and swallowed, trying not to think about how hard it was going to be on Boomer without Nathan around. His heart, already so weak, would be broken. It almost made her glad he wouldn’t have long to suffer.

  The receptionist was pointing at the screen.

  “Did you see the comments? Some of them are real heartbreakers.”

  Jennifer scrolled to the comment section and started to read:

  “… thank you for letting me share Oscar’s story… .”

  “Puggles was my best friend… . ”

  “Rusty never left Mom’s side… . ”

  She leaned back. So, Boomer’s Bucket List wasn’t the ghoulish spectacle she’d thought it was. Far from being a public flaunting of her personal agony, the Web site had become a celebration—not only of Boomer’s life, but of the lives of other dogs whose owners had finally found a way to express their appreciation for the joy their animals had given them. That she’d been unwilling to even consider that her colleagues had meant well made her feel small. Derek Compton was right. The people who’d been following Boomer’s Bucket List deserved to see him through to the end.