In Dog We Trust

by Beth Kendrick

  This open display of emotion took Jocelyn off-guard. “I try.”

  “You’re a good person, with a good heart,” Rachel continued. “You deserve much better than the likes of Christopher Cantor the Third.”

  Jocelyn rubbed the heel of her hand against her forehead. “It’s funny you should mention that.”

  “I heard that you two broke up.”

  Jocelyn dropped her hand to her side in amazement. “How . . . ?”

  “So it’s true?” Rachel pressed.

  “I barely just found out that we broke up.” And then Jocelyn remembered that the Cantor family summer home employed a huge staff. Gardeners, chefs, housekeepers, personal assistants. Seasonal staff with no sense of loyalty to an old-money family who hogged the best stretches of shoreline for themselves.

  Seasonal staff who, like Jocelyn and Rachel and Bree, saw everything that transpired behind the façade of pampered perfection. Who emptied the trash and scrubbed away the wine stains after lavish parties. Who literally whisked away the dirty laundry and returned it fresh and pristine. And who got together after their shifts and traded gossip.

  “Well, what can I say? You were right and I was wrong.” Jocelyn sighed. “You told me so.”

  “Joss, I wish so much that you were right and I was wrong this time.”

  “But you weren’t. You never are.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “You always expect the worst from men, and you always turn out to be right.” Jocelyn shrugged. “I’m the one who never learns.”

  “I don’t expect the worst from all men,” Rachel corrected. “Just the spoiled, seasonal men.”

  “Spoiled, seasonal men.” Jocelyn finally cracked a smile. “Sounds like a menu item gone horribly wrong.”

  “If you want to talk about it, go ahead,” her mother offered. “I promise to be supportive. Although I’m due to take my next pain pill in ten minutes, so I might be a little out of it.”

  “I appreciate that, but there’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Just remember, no matter how much money he has, he doesn’t determine your worth,” Rachel said.

  Jocelyn thought of the diamond bracelet—so valuable yet so worthless at the same time. “I know, I know.”

  “Yeah, you know it in theory, but I want you to feel it in your bones,” Rachel retorted. “And listen, kiddo—I wouldn’t know all this if I hadn’t been through it myself. I wasted too much time thinking about your father, wishing things could have been different.”

  Jocelyn held her breath, trying not to break the spell. She’d never heard her mother speak so openly about her father.

  “And all that time I was thinking about him, he wasn’t thinking about me. He went ahead with what he wanted and never looked back. Never worried about what happened to me—or to you.”

  Rachel closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, her vulnerability had vanished. “Which reminds me, when you move into Mr. Allardyce’s house, you better take that hideous painting with you.”

  “Will do.”

  “If you don’t, it’s going to Goodwill.”

  “Noted.”

  “Actually, it’s too ugly for Goodwill—it’s going to the dump.”

  “Consider it gone.”

  “Okay, then.” Rachel nodded and sat back. “Good talk.”

  “Definitely,” Jocelyn agreed.

  “Pass the pain pills, and do me a favor—next time, date a local boy.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Rachel lifted her chin. “Don’t just try. Go online and make a dating account.”

  “I’m not ready.”

  “You don’t need to be ready. You need to listen to your mother. In fact, I’m texting Bree right now and asking her to do it for you.”

  Jocelyn’s eyes widened with alarm. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Too late.” Her mother grinned. “It’s happening. I feel better already, don’t you?”

  chapter 13

  Jocelyn had been looking forward to the beach house all day. Peace and quiet. Serenity and solitude. A respite from heartache and online dating accounts that were created without her knowledge or consent.

  But when she pulled into the driveway, she noticed a familiar black SUV parked by the driveway . . . and a familiar figure standing by the edge of the road.

  “Can we do this later?” Jocelyn asked Liam as she got out of her car. “I have had a day, and I have a pack of Labs that need my full attention.”

  “Sorry.” He had his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t realize you’d be out here.”

  “Well, I know it’s a sore subject, but I kind of live here now.”

  “I know. I don’t want to bother you. You can go in.” But he stayed where he was, gazing at the house with evident longing. “I’m just looking.”

  Jocelyn stood beside him and shaded her eyes with her hand. She tried to imagine what he saw when he looked at the big, new house surrounded by impeccable hedging and freshly raked white gravel.

  Note to self: Figure out how to continue lawn service and arrange payment.

  “It’s pretty impressive,” she finally said.

  “That was my father,” Liam replied. “Always the best.”

  Jocelyn tried to think of an appropriate conversational segue. “I think he wanted someplace where the dogs could run.”

  “He was very into his dogs.” Liam’s voice was flat. “Up to and including leaving them millions of dollars.”

  “People can get pretty weird about their dogs.”

  “The inheritance wasn’t really about how much he liked his dogs. He did it to make a point.”

  “What was the point?” Jocelyn was almost afraid to ask.

  “‘Screw you.’” Liam shrugged. “Which is fine. He doesn’t owe me anything. But . . .” He trailed off again, staring at the house.

  “What did you want to talk to him about? The day that you showed up on the doorstep and he wouldn’t let you in?”

  Liam shrugged again. “I had some family business to discuss. I wanted to talk to him in person before I got lawyers involved. I thought I should be direct. Civil. That was a mistake.”

  “You could come in,” Jocelyn heard herself offer. “Take a look around.”

  He looked at her with a mix of gratitude and incredulity.

  “Come on.” Jocelyn pulled her keys out of her pocket. “I have to feed the dogs and let them out, but you can give yourself a tour. Just, you know. Do me a favor and don’t steal anything.”

  “You have my word. I realize that doesn’t mean anything to you, but you have it.”

  There was a wistful note in his voice that softened her. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world if, like, a stray pen or a commemorative plaque or something accidentally fell into your pocket.”

  “All your pens and plaques are safe,” he promised.

  “They’re not really mine,” she reminded him. “They’re the dogs’.”

  “I’m aware.”

  As they trooped toward the house, Jocelyn felt fatigue settling into her head and her limbs. The physical work today, compounded by the emotional strain of breaking up with Chris and then trying to put on a happy face, finally caught up with her.

  She rubbed her eyes as she unlocked the front door. Howls of delight echoed down the high-ceiling halls.

  “Duty calls.” She left Liam to his explorations and got down to the business of providing food, water, and belly rubs to Curtis and Carmen.

  “Hi guys, hi guys, hi guys.” She doled out biscuits and vitamins and kisses. “I missed you, too. I know, you’re so deprived and alone, here in your five-star abode.”

  Hester hung back behind the others, her eyes glassy and her breath a bit labored. Jocelyn moved in to give her some special attention. “Hey, girl. How�
�re you doing?”

  Hester gazed at her, panted, and thumped her tail against the doorjamb. She turned up her nose at the treat Jocelyn offered.

  “Is this it?” Jocelyn asked. “Is it puppy time?”

  Hester licked her hand, then retreated to her fleece-lined bed and walked in a little circle before heaving herself down with a sigh.

  “Hester?” Jocelyn asked. “You okay?”

  Hester had either gone instantly to sleep or was doing a very good job of faking it, snores and all.

  “I’m watching you,” Jocelyn informed her. “And I’ve got the vet on speed dial.”

  As she stepped outside to let Curtis and Carmen run, Jocelyn decided that a quick call to Mr. Allardyce’s fancy-pants “concierge veterinarian” was in order. The assistant who answered the phone explained that Dr. Moore was performing emergency surgery but offered to relay information back and forth from the surgical suite. After Jocelyn described Hester’s demeanor and behavior, Dr. Moore opined that the best course of action was to “watch and wait.”

  “What am I watching for?” Jocelyn asked.

  “If she starts whining, vomiting, or acting agitated, call us back,” the assistant said. “Dogs in labor don’t usually take naps. They’re too uncomfortable.”

  “That’s kind of what I thought. But I’ve never been through this before.”

  “Don’t worry,” the tech said.

  “And she won’t go into her whelping box. Should I make her go in the whelping box?”

  “No. Let her rest wherever she’s most comfortable. Dr. Moore will call you as soon as she’s out of surgery.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Jocelyn assured herself that she was doing everything she should be, but she was still a nervous wreck. What if Hester was already in active labor? What if there was a problem with delivery?

  Jocelyn cut the dogs’ run short and herded Carmen and Curtis back to the house. “We need to keep an eye on your sister,” she informed the disgruntled duo. “You can do an extra mile or two tomorrow, I promise.”

  On the bright side, she was no longer thinking about Chris.

  Hester continued her peaceful slumber when Jocelyn returned, so Jocelyn left her alone and paced the kitchen while waiting for the vet to call her back. In the midst of her worried laps around the granite-topped island, she heard a thump from upstairs and remembered that Liam was still there. She had invited a virtual stranger, a man she knew only from hostile estate dealings, to rummage through the house she’d been living in for a week. What could possibly go wrong?

  As she started up the stairs, she heard the low rumble of thunder in the distance. The weather forecast called for rain tonight, which would offer a welcome respite from the sweltering heat and humidity.

  “Hey,” she called when she reached the top step. “Can I get you a soda or a beer or something?”

  “No, thanks,” Liam called back. She followed his voice to the master bedroom, where she found him standing in the huge walk-in closet, staring at the racks of shoes and carefully pressed golf shirts and chinos.

  “Swanky, huh?” Jocelyn leaned her hip against the chest of drawers in the middle of the space. “It’s bigger than my bedroom at home.”

  Liam appeared transfixed by the neatly arranged belts and neckties. He’d never seen the interior of his father’s house. Or his father’s life. He was trying to piece together neckties and golf shoes to create a cohesive image of a parent he never knew.

  “Is that . . . ?” He stepped around Jocelyn, his eyes narrowing.

  “What?” she asked. She followed his gaze across a small, very expensive bit of clutter: a bottle of European aftershave, a monogrammed gold money clip, an assortment of coins.

  Liam reached out and retrieved a small maroon box tucked in the corner, almost hidden in the shadows from the shelf above. Jocelyn leaned forward as he opened it, holding her breath without knowing why.

  He opened the lid and she edged closer to discover what was inside.

  “It’s lovely,” she said when she glimpsed the delicate gold band. The ring looked much too small and dainty to be Mr. Allardyce’s. “Who did it belong to?”

  “My mother, I think.” Liam held the ring up to the light and studied an inscription inside the band. “It looks like her name in here. But that’s impossible.”

  Jocelyn took a step back, giving him a bit of space. Until this moment, it hadn’t really registered that the existence of Liam meant that Mr. Allardyce had once had some sort of love life. Mr. Allardyce had been somebody’s . . . boyfriend? Husband? One-night stand?

  Ew.

  She shook the unsavory images out of her mind. “Were they married long?”

  “No.”

  She waited for details, but none were forthcoming. “But he kept her ring all these years?”

  “I guess.” Liam seemed utterly bewildered.

  “Take it,” Jocelyn urged. “Take anything you want from here. It’s all going to get sold or donated, anyway.”

  He wasn’t even pretending to listen to her. All his attention was trained on that tiny circlet of gold. So Jocelyn left him alone and returned to the kitchen, where she poured herself a glass of pinot noir and sat down next to Hester on the floor.

  Curtis and Carmen hurried to join her.

  “People are weird,” she informed them. “Really weird. As I’m sure you’re aware.” She sipped her wine and willed her cell phone to ring. Lo and behold, it did ring, and Jocelyn pressed it to her ear. “Thanks so much for calling me back, Dr. Moore.”

  “Of course.” The vet’s voice had exactly the soothing, unhurried manner one would expect from a top-paid medical professional. “I apologize for the delay; my current patient is in crisis, but I’ll come by and check on Hester myself as soon as we finish up here.”

  “When will that be?” Jocelyn pressed.

  “Maybe an hour. How is she doing?”

  Hester, ever the sensitive sweetheart, picked up on Jocelyn’s distress and laid her blocky head in Jocelyn’s lap in an attempt to comfort her.

  “She seems fine.” Jocelyn kissed Hester on each ear. “But I’ll feel much better once you take a look at her.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” the vet promised. “And if there are any more delays, I’ll send my colleague over. You’d be in great hands with Dr. Ruggiero.”

  The rain started suddenly, a heavy downpour punctuated by flashes of lightning and a thunderclap that had the dogs on their feet and barking. Curtis, in particular, was agitated and howling, so Jocelyn went to the mudroom closet and found the vest with his name embroidered across the back.

  “Is he going out in that?” Liam walked into the kitchen.

  “Oh, it’s not a raincoat, it’s a weighted vest,” Jocelyn explained. “It helps calm him down during thunderstorms.” Right on cue, a deafening thunderclap shook the house. Curtis howled again, but with much less conviction.

  “It’s not working.”

  “Yeah, it is,” she assured him. “He’d lose his mind without it. This is the equivalent of doggie Xanax.”

  “He wears it every rainstorm?”

  “He’ll chew up the ottoman if he doesn’t.”

  Liam glanced down at Hester, who was still panting heavily and trying to worm her way under the foot rung of Jocelyn’s chair. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s going to have puppies.”

  “Right now?”

  “Not right now.” I hope. “But soon.”

  “You’re cutting it close,” he stated with authority.

  Jocelyn bristled. “Her vet is en route, and if all else fails, I can take her to the emergency vet in Rehoboth.”

  The next thunderclap rattled the windows. The dogs barked and howled. Jocelyn peered out the window, contemplating the black sky outside the windows. She sat back down on the floor an
d invited all the dogs into her lap. In seconds, she was engulfed in warm fur and wagging tails.

  “I see why he left them to you,” Liam said. “If I had dogs, I’d leave them to you, too.”

  “Do you like dogs?” she asked.

  He looked down at the three furry beasts parked on her legs. “If I say ‘no,’ I’m out in the rain?”

  “Obviously.”

  He smiled. “I do like dogs. Grew up with them.”

  “Ooh, lucky. I wanted a dog so badly while I was growing up, but my mom wouldn’t allow it.”

  “My mother was a sucker for strays,” Liam said. “We always had a few dogs and cats. My favorite was a husky mix named Banjo.” Liam’s expression softened at the memory. “Poor guy. It was rough being a husky in Florida.”

  “You’re from Florida?” Jocelyn asked. “Which part?”

  “Little town called Bexson up by the panhandle. We lived on a ranch in the middle of nowhere.”

  Jocelyn tried to reconcile her social and financial assumptions about Boat Shoes with rustic ranch life. She failed. “Huh. That must have been interesting.”

  “Definitely.” He grinned, and he was no longer just good-looking in an abstract way.

  “What did you grow on your ranch?” she asked. “Or raise? Whatever the right term is.”

  “Cattle.” His smile faded. “But it’s not our ranch. My mom and I just worked there.”

  The rain started coming down in sheets and the wind gusted, to the point that huge splashes of water were hitting the windows sideways. The thunder abated, and the dogs settled down. Jocelyn located a second wineglass and poured some pinot for Liam.

  “I didn’t know they had ranches in Florida,” she said.

  “Oh yeah. Big cattle ranches.”

  “But isn’t it, I don’t know, kind of swampy in Florida?” Jocelyn had never been to Florida. She’d never been anywhere south of Virginia or west of Illinois. But she made up for her lack of real-world travel experience with excessive binge-watching of the National Geographic Channel and the Travel Channel.

  “Cows are tough. Besides, it’s not that swampy up in the northern part of the state.” Liam smiled again, a real smile. His eyes warmed and if she wasn’t very much mistaken, he had a disarming little half dimple in his right cheek. “The landscape there is more like Jurassic Park.”