In Dog We Trust

by Beth Kendrick

  He nodded as though this made perfect sense. “How’d that go?”

  “Oh, you know how it goes when your illegitimate kid shows up at your workplace right before a client meeting. The usual.” She smiled wryly. Liam smiled back.

  “It went better than it should have, actually. I didn’t get what I really wanted, but I got his attention.” She sighed. “And a little parting gift.”

  Liam glanced toward the back of the SUV. “Kind of like cuff links?”

  “Yeah.” Her father had written her a check as fast as he could, the handwriting slanted and scrawled. When she’d accepted it with shaking hands and a trembling lower lip, he’d panicked. Keeping one eye on the clock ticking above the mantel (yes, he had an actual fireplace in the sitting area of his expansive office suite), he’d glanced around the room and yanked a small, abstract, black and white painting off the wall. He’d thrust it into her hands, still refusing to meet her gaze, and said, “Here. Take this. It means a lot to me, and I want you to have it.” When she’d asked why, he’d cut her off and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t have time for this. This is all I can give you, all right?”

  And that had been that. She’d never contacted him, he’d never contacted her, and she’d never cashed the check. She’d kept it in her nightstand drawer for two years, until her mother had found it and insisted on depositing it into Jocelyn’s savings account, saying, “It’s the least that bastard can do.” Rachel didn’t understand why Jocelyn had been so fascinated with her father’s signature, studying the cursive writing for similarities to her own. She hadn’t understood the appeal of the black and white painting, either, stating that It looks like the inside of my head during a migraine. Fearful that her mother would throw it out, Jocelyn had stashed the little painting in the back of her closet, where it still remained under piles of high school yearbooks. She didn’t really want it anymore, but she couldn’t bear to part with it, either. Like so many things related to her father.

  “I never told anybody this,” she confessed to Liam. She gazed over his shoulder at the tree line across the yard. “It must have been interesting, having Mr. Allardyce as your father.”

  “I wouldn’t really know.”

  “Why’d he leave you a tree in his will?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “It must suck, seeing some random townie move into your father’s house with all his stuff.”

  Liam inclined his head.

  “But I can promise you that I really do love these dogs. They’ll be well taken care of and you can come visit them whenever you want.”

  He regarded her with renewed interest. “You seem nice.”

  “I am.” She smiled up at him.

  “But that doesn’t change anything.” He stepped back and got into the driver’s seat of the SUV. “This house is mine by rights, and I intend to take it back.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “And then he drove off with that threat still hanging in the air,” Jocelyn reported to Chris that evening. They were sharing takeout and a bottle of wine as part of a Netflix marathon in his bedroom suite’s sitting room. “You could practically see the fumes from his tailpipe spelling out drama.”

  “You’re sure he’s really the guy’s son?” Chris asked.

  “Not yet. He has zero proof.” But she could see a strong resemblance in the jawline and the stubborn set of his shoulders. Liam’s eyes were completely different from Mr. Allardyce’s, though. Expressive and dark instead of cold and blue.

  “What’d he do to get cut out of the will?” Chris asked.

  “I don’t know. We didn’t sit down for a friendly chat about our families.” Although she had divulged details to Liam she’d never revealed to anyone else.

  “So do you think this guy will—” Chris’s question was cut off by his phone buzzing. “Hang on.” He put his plate aside, got to his feet, and checked his text messages. “Fiona wants to know if we’d like to meet at the country club later for a drink.” He turned the screen toward Jocelyn, amused. “Actually, what she said was, ‘I’d love to have drinks with Jocelyn tonight. You can come, too, I guess.’”

  “She used the wine emoji and everything,” Jocelyn observed.

  “She’s not usually one for emojis. She likes you.”

  Jocelyn rolled up the sleeve of her threadbare college sweatshirt. “I thought we were going to stay in tonight. I didn’t really dress to go out.”

  “Okay.” Chris typed out a response text. “I’ll go by myself. I can drop you off on my way.”

  Jocelyn froze, trying to figure out what had just happened. He hadn’t told her not to worry, that she looked great. He hadn’t offered to wait while she went home to change. He hadn’t insisted that he stay in with her. He was just going to drop her off on his way to socialize with other people?

  Chris settled back into the sofa. “Back to Frontier.”

  “Wait.” Jocelyn placed her hand over his as he reached for the remote. “Hang on a second. There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  His gaze remained glued to the screen. “What’s that?”

  “It’s about Paris.” She took a deep breath. “I have good news and bad news.”

  “Whenever anybody says that, it’s always bad news.”

  She forced a breezy little laugh. “The good news is, well, my financial circumstances have changed. Drastically. As you know.”

  He looked even more guarded at the mention of money. “Mmm.”

  “Which means that I can afford to buy my own ticket now.” It was amazing how not having to worry about grocery money or rent money or utility money freed up some space in a girl’s budget.

  “Sweetheart, you know I don’t care about that.”

  “Well, I do. I’d like to pay you back for the plane ticket.”

  He turned away slightly and poised his thumb over the remote button. “We don’t need to talk about this right now.”

  An icy tendril of dread unfurled in the pit of her stomach. This conversation wasn’t going well, but she didn’t know how to turn it around. “We do, actually. It’s time sensitive.” She took a deep breath and tried to remain cheery. “I know we’re supposed to go at the end of the month. But, like I said, circumstances have changed. Hester is due any day now.”

  His expression changed. He looked . . . relieved? “You can’t make it for the dates we planned?”

  “I really shouldn’t leave her alone much after this week. And after she delivers, she’ll be recovering and her puppies will need round-the-clock supervision. I’ve been reading up on puppy care. They need to be weighed twice a day, and kept at a certain room temperature, and constantly checked for signs of distress. And since it’s now my official, full-time job to take care of the dogs . . .”

  Chris digested this for a moment. “Oh.”

  “I’m sorry. The timing is terrible, but of course I had no idea when you booked the tickets that I’d be moving into Mr. Allardyce’s house and taking over dog duty.”

  “I know.”

  “I’d love to postpone the trip until the end of the summer, but I couldn’t ask your entire family to . . .” She trailed off when she noticed his expression. More, specifically, his lack of expression.

  “What?” she prompted.

  “Nothing.” He patted her hand, but he didn’t meet her gaze. “If you can’t go, you can’t go. No worries.”

  “You’re not mad?” She studied every centimeter of his face for clues.

  “Not at all. You have responsibilities. Legal commitments, in fact.” He finally cracked a smile. “That’s how it goes when you date a successful, independent woman. You can’t just go gallivanting off to Europe.”

  She smiled, too. “Maybe not right this very moment, but we’re definitely going. Just the two of us. How does the second half of October sound to you?”


  Chris’s smile faded.

  She tensed up again. “What?”

  He put the remote down and spoke very calmly. “I agree that right now is not a good time for us to go to Europe.”

  “That doesn’t sound promising.” She set her jaw and took a breath. Don’t panic, don’t jump to conclusions, and for God’s sake, don’t cry.

  He hesitated just long enough that she knew what was coming next.

  “But maybe it’s for the best. Maybe we should take a break.”

  She didn’t know what to say, where to look.

  “I’m sorry, Joss.” And he did sound sorry. Sorry but resolute.

  “But we . . .” She scrambled to arrange her thoughts. “What happened? Has something changed?”

  “No,” he assured her, his voice warming. “You’re wonderful.”

  She wanted to ask if he still loved her, but she managed to restrain herself. She couldn’t bear to look weak in the eyes of the man who had so much power over her heart.

  “Then why?” Her voice broke, and she shut up before she humiliated herself further.

  He got to his feet and turned away from her. “I’m glad you got to meet Fiona. I wish you could have met my parents.”

  Jocelyn’s desperation and disbelief started to turn into anger. “But . . . ?”

  “But we should take a break.” He said this as though it explained everything.

  She realized her whole body was shaking. “Where is this coming from? I thought—”

  “Let’s end this on a positive note,” he urged, as though coaxing a child out of a tantrum.

  “Then tell me why. I deserve an explanation, at least.”

  “Here.” Chris pulled a small, oblong box out of a dresser drawer. “This is for you.”

  He handed it to her and glanced down at her sweatshirt. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she detected a slight frown as he noted the name of the college emblazoned on the fabric.

  She held the box at arm’s length. “What is this?”

  “Open it.”

  She regarded the box as though it were a ticking bomb.

  “It’s something that I saw that made me think of you.” He gave her the smile he’d dazzled her with on the day they met. So charming, so confident. “Open it. Please.”

  So she did. Even though she didn’t want to, even though she knew that whatever she would find inside would leave her shattered, she did as he asked. She tried to please him.

  She lifted the gold-embossed lid to find a diamond-encrusted tennis bracelet.

  “Try it on,” he urged.

  “What is this for?”

  He plucked the sparkling strand off the little bed of velvet and draped it across her wrist. “Here, I’ll help you.”

  Then she understood. This extravagant trinket that had cost him a small fortune he’d never miss was her parting gift. Just like the one her father had given her.

  “You’re an amazing woman.” He gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. “We’ll always be friends.”

  chapter 12

  “And then you murdered him, yes?” Bree dropped a load of towels and stood in the middle of a rental cottage living room, arms akimbo. “His body’s in the trunk of your car and you need someone to help you dump it in the ocean under cover of night?”

  Jocelyn sighed. “No.”

  “Then you ruined his credit? Dumped red paint on his spiffy white sweater collection? Used the wrong fork at dinner just to watch him squirm?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?” Her face lit up. “Ooh, you’re playing the long game, aren’t you? Psychological torture! Requires more cunning and patience, but ultimately more satisfying.”

  “I held my head high and walked out with my dignity intact.” Jocelyn knelt down to peer under the couch, where she spotted a cluster of empty soda cans. “And I left the bracelet on the bed.”

  “Tell me I didn’t hear you right.”

  Jocelyn could feel tiny grains of sand digging into her cheek as she pressed her face into the carpet and snaked her arm into the space between the wall and the sofa. “You heard me.”

  “He broke up with you with no warning, for no reason, and you let him keep the diamonds? I’m aghast.”

  “Well, it’s not like any other guy has ever thrown a bunch of bling at me on my way out the door.” Jocelyn’s hand closed around a can, which she pulled out and tossed behind her.

  “Me, neither!” Bree raised her voice to be heard as she walked into the bathroom to collect the trash. “But if they did, I would take it, dignity be damned. My rule is: If someone offers you diamonds, always say yes.”

  “But it didn’t mean anything to him.” Jocelyn snagged the remaining two cans and placed them with the other recyclables in the bin by the kitchen. “The money he spent on that is a drop in the bucket to him.”

  “So?”

  “And it’s not like he spent a lot of time picking it out. He probably went down to the Naked Finger and snagged the first thing that caught his eye.”

  “Again, I ask: So?”

  “So, he didn’t break up with me for no reason.” Jocelyn plumped the bamboo-patterned throw cushions on the wicker chair overlooking the deck. “There’s something else going on here. I just don’t know what. Maybe I fulfilled my obligations as the scrappy working-class girl and his dad gave him his inheritance.”

  “Wait, what?” Bree’s eyebrows went all the way up.

  “I might have glossed over a few details. I’ll tell you later.” Jocelyn turned her head away so her friend wouldn’t see her eyes. “My mom was right about him. She’s always right about men. Do you know how annoying that is?”

  “It’s his loss,” Bree opined. “He adored you. Everyone who saw you guys together could see that.”

  “I think he adores a lot of people.” Jocelyn stripped the sheets off the bed and wriggled the pillows out of their cases. “And many people adore him. The truth is, ever since I hinted about needing a place to stay with the dogs, he’s been weird.”

  Bree opened the sliding glass door so that they could collect the beach towels draped over the deck railing. “Text him right now. Tell him you changed your mind about the bracelet. Then sell it.”

  “I couldn’t enjoy the money; it’d feel tainted.”

  “Fine, then give it to me.”

  “The diamonds or the money?”

  “Either/or.” Bree got serious as they lugged the dirty linens out to the van. “How’s your mom doing?”

  “She’s hanging in there. She’s not well enough to lift anything, but well enough to tell me everything I’m doing wrong.”

  Bree dabbed at her face as a sheen of sweat appeared under the brutal afternoon sun. “Once we throw these in the laundry, want to get an ice-cold sangria at the Whinery?”

  “I do, but I can’t.” Jocelyn tapped her phone. “Got to check on Hester. Behold: I installed an app that lets me monitor the dogs all day through a camera in the mudroom.”

  “You spy on them all day?” Bree sounded scandalized. “You’re like the canine NSA.”

  “Eyes and ears everywhere. I got the idea from my mom, actually.”

  “This isn’t really about Hester, is it?” Bree asked. “You just want to go and be sad about Chris.”

  “If I’m going to go cry on the couch, might as well cry on the couch with the dogs. They could use the company. They’re pretty sad, too. They keep looking around for Mr. Allardyce and whining. It’s heartbreaking.”

  “I could come over later,” Bree offered.

  “I don’t know,” Jocelyn hedged.

  “I’ll bring ice cream. Cupcakes. A giant bag of barbecue. You name it.”

  “How about all of the above?” Jocelyn smiled. “Tomorrow night. I need to be alone for a while.”

  “With
three dogs.”

  “Yeah.” Jocelyn gave Bree a quick, one-armed hug. “Thanks, though. I’ll text you.”

  “Text Chris, too!” Bree yelled as Jocelyn got into the driver’s seat of the van. “Take what’s yours!”

  “Bye.” Jocelyn closed the door, cranked up the A/C, and headed for home. The place where she would always be welcome, always be loved, always hear the words I told you so.

  * * *

  • • •

  “What’s wrong?” Rachel’s voice drifted in from the family room as soon as Jocelyn opened the front door.

  Damn, she’s good. “You can’t even see me. How do you know something’s wrong?”

  “I’m your mother, that’s how.” The house went silent as the TV clicked off. “Come in here, please.”

  “Okay, but I can only talk for a second.” Jocelyn let the screen door bang closed behind her. “Bree and I cleaned out the rental house on Points Road. I have to get everything in the laundry and then check on the dogs.”

  Rachel saw right through the piles of linens, along with the excuses. “Oh, honey.”

  “Everything’s fine. I swear.”

  “You don’t look like everything’s fine.”

  “You don’t, either.” Jocelyn eyed her mother’s pale complexion and the bottles of prescription pills on the coffee table. “Are you in pain?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” Rachel assured her.

  “I can call and have them page your doctor,” Jocelyn offered.

  “Not necessary.” But Rachel looked wan and frail amid her blankets and pillows. “I start physical therapy next week, and then I’ll be up and about again.”

  “Why don’t you come over to Allardyce’s house with me tonight?”

  Rachel grimaced. “Wash your mouth out with soap.”

  “Seriously, why not? There’s plenty of room and the views are amazing. You’d be very comfortable, I promise. And I could help you out. Freshen your water glass, help you wash your hair, paint your toenails if you want . . .”

  Rachel’s grimace softened into sadness. “You’re a good daughter.”