Buried to the Brim

by Jenn McKinlay

  I didn’t look out at the crowd because, at the moment, I didn’t want to know where my people were. If we lost, I didn’t want to see Aunt Betty’s disappointment. It would crush me.

  The podium, the same one Gerry Swendson had been found beneath, had three spots at different heights for the three finalists, with another two places on the floor for the third and fourth runners-up.

  I glanced across the arena to where Penelope and Jasper stood with Henry. I hoped with every fiber of my being that they didn’t rank in the top five. Anyone else would be okay but not those two.

  Mary Swendson was standing with Claudia and Liza. The three women had their heads pressed together and they seemed to be having an intense discussion. I wondered if there had been a tie. That wasn’t going to go over well, because I know that I for one was not planning on sharing the crystal bowl if I won. It was mine, all mine . . . er . . . I mean it was Freddy’s, all Freddy’s.

  I watched the heated discussion. Claudia was shaking her head while Mary and Liza looked at her. Finally, Claudia crossed her arms over her chest and glared. Whatever hill she was planting her flag on, it was clear she wasn’t budging. Given how stern she’d been, I didn’t think it boded well for Freddy. I sighed. He’d been the runner-up before. This was his year. He had to take at least second or third. Preferably second. But even if he did, it was cold comfort, knowing he was so close.

  With a sharp word at Mary, Liza turned on her heel and stomped away. She took a spot behind the judges’ table in the VIP section, and I saw her riffling through paperwork as if she was looking for something. There was an air of desperation about her. Interesting.

  Finally, Mary Swendson shook off Claudia and stepped up to the mic in front of the dais. She addressed the crowd in her usual no-nonsense fashion that I’d come to like.

  “Good evening, everyone. In memory of my brother, I am happy to invite our head judge, Claudia Curtis, up to announce this year’s winner of the PAWS dog show. I know it was a difficult decision for our judges”—she paused and looked pointedly at Claudia before continuing—“with so many fabulous dogs in the competition, and I want to personally thank each and every one of you for making this dog show the signature event that it is. The commitment you have to your canines and the world of dogs is unparalleled and Swendson’s Dog Food is, as always, thrilled to partner with PAWS in making a difference in animal shelters all over the country.”

  Everyone cheered and Mary stepped back to make room for Claudia.

  She cleared her throat once, then again, and announced the fourth runner-up. I watched as a German pointer named Archer came forward with his handler. Next was a Doberman called Kit. They were each given a medal on a ribbon and a small bouquet of wildflowers.

  “You’ve got the makings of champions,” Claudia said. “I hope we’ll see you next year.” She congratulated all of the participants for an excellent showing and then got down to business.

  “Our second runner-up is a standard poodle, Lucy, and her handler, Chris Hansen,” she said. The audience broke into applause and a man with long hair and wearing a Hawaiian shirt under his suit jacket crossed the arena, stepping out with a pretty, black standard poodle, who trotted to the podium as if this was what she was born to do.

  “Bloody American,” the woman beside me muttered. Oh, dear.

  They stepped up on the podium on the lowest step. A medal on a ribbon was put around both of their necks and a bouquet of yellow calla lilies was handed to the man.

  Okay, so we weren’t in third. Did that mean we were second? Did we even make it to the podium? My heart was thumping hard in my chest and my palms were sweating. I swallowed and tried to do my breathing exercises but I couldn’t focus.

  I glanced up into the stands, needing something. No, not something. I needed my people. This was excruciating. I wanted to win so badly. I scanned the crowd. To my surprise they were all together. Aunt Betty and Harry, who was still holding Bella. Viv and Fee, with Nick sitting in between them and Alistair on the other side of Fee. Uh-oh. I wondered how that was going.

  They were all watching Claudia, and I could tell they were just as stressed as I was. Nick was chewing a thumbnail. Alistair was fidgeting with the watch on his left wrist. Fee was twisting one of her corkscrew curls around her index finger. Viv was biting her lip. Aunt Betty was sitting on the edge of her seat and had her hands clasped together in front of her chest as if praying. I glanced at Harry. I knew his go-to anxiety gesture was to run his hands through his hair. His fingers always left big trails that I liked to smooth out. He wasn’t doing that right now, however. Instead, he was smiling at me. His bright green eyes were sparkling and as our gazes met and held, he reached down and waved the sleeping Bella’s paw at me.

  The adorableness of it filled my heart and squeezed out my fear. Yes, it would be cool to win the show but there was so much more important stuff in my life, not the least of which was all of the people sitting up there together. I grinned at Harry and gave him a wink. His smile deepened and I knew right then that everything was going to be just fine.

  I heard the click of a camera shutter and saw Andre standing nearby. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I turned my attention back to Claudia. She glanced at Liza, who was still riffling through paperwork on the judges’ table. Liza glanced up at her and shrugged. It was an annoyed and impatient gesture. Two of the other judges frowned at Liza and then at Claudia. One of them made a rolling motion with his hand to indicate Claudia should finish up.

  Claudia took a deep breath and turned to face the crowd. She lifted the mic to her mouth and said, “Our first runner-up is Muffin and her handler, Richard Freestone.”

  Richard stood still for a moment as if caught by surprise. He glanced down at Muffin and patted her head. Andre snapped pictures as Richard and Muffin stepped out of line. Richard smiled and waved to the crowd, who cheered with great enthusiasm. It was clear that Richard was just fine with his first-runner-up win. He smiled at me as he walked past and I smiled in return but it felt forced. There was no way to know if Freddy and I had won—not until they said the name.

  I watched as Richard and Muffin got their medals and a large silver plate with Muffin’s name engraved on it. It felt as if time were moving backward. How long could this possibly take? I really thought I might faint. Freddy must have sensed my distress because he rose on his hind feet and licked my hand. It brought me back, and I forced myself to breathe slow and steady. It wouldn’t do to pass out before the event was over.

  When Claudia approached the mic, I stood frozen, my breathing shallow, my heart stuttering, my insides quaking. I’m a pretty emotional person so I knew I had to prepare for the worst so I didn’t make a scene, meaning I’d burst into big gut-wrenching sobs as tears gushed out of my eyeballs if we didn’t win.

  “And the winner of the nineteenth annual PAWS dog show is . . .” She paused and I thought I’d burst into flame. “Freddy and his handler, Scarlett Parker!”

  I’d like to report that I was totally cool and gave a regal nod before stepping forward. Yeah, no, I lost my ever-loving mind. I shouted and jumped up and down. I clapped like I was a GIF of joy. Freddy did the same, except for the clapping, and then I scooped him up and hugged him while he licked my face. The crowd seemed delighted with our lack of restraint and the cheers and applause were deafening.

  Andre popped up right in front of us and snapped a million pictures as we mugged and then ran to the podium. Yes, we ran and jumped and cheered all the way to Claudia, who, to my surprise, actually smiled at our unabashed enthusiasm. When she went to pet Freddy, he got up on his back legs and hugged her with his front feet as if he knew she was the key to his win.

  We circled the podium and climbed the short steps to the top. I searched the crowd, again, for our people. It wasn’t hard. Viv and Fee were standing on their seats, waving their arms in the air, Alistair had both his arms up, looking ready to catch either
or both of them should they tumble. Nick was applauding with arms long and his hands out in front of him, as if it were the Oscars. Harry was grinning at me and clapping around an armful of Bella, who amazingly slept through it all. And then there was Aunt Betty. She had her hands to her face and I knew she was weeping with tears of joy. Freddy, her dog, had won.

  It hit me then that it didn’t seem right that I should be here. The years of training, the losses, the bond between canine and handler, that was all hers. The only reason I’d been able to step in at the last second was because she had trained Freddy so well. This moment on the podium was hers. It should be her with the ribbon and the flowers and the big crystal bowl.

  I didn’t think it through, nothing new there, I just looked at Freddy and said, “Sit.”

  He sat, still wagging, and I ran down the podium steps and across the floor, up the stairs to the bleacher where Aunt Betty stood with the others. I held out my hand. She stared at me for a moment and I said, “This is your win. Come on.”

  She wiped her face with the heels of her hands. She took a breath, grinned and then put her hand in mine. The noise of the crowd ratcheted up to deafening as I escorted her across the floor and then assisted her up the podium steps.

  Freddy jumped up to greet her and she bent down and hugged him. She let go and commanded that he sit and he did. He was positively aquiver to have her beside him and I was so glad I’d thought of it. This was Aunt Betty’s moment absolutely.

  When Aunt Betty bent down to receive her medal and flowers, she looked humbled. I noted that Richard wasn’t watching her during her moment of glory, and I found that odd. He’d said that he cared for Betty, that he hoped she won so he could ask her out. He didn’t look like that now. Instead, his fingers tightened on the flower stems he was holding so tightly that his knuckles were white. Had he lied to me? Had he feigned an interest in Aunt Betty? If so, why? To make himself more likable? To what purpose?

  In contrast, I noticed that the other runners-up were grinning and applauding for Aunt Betty. Chris Hansen, the one with the poodle, even leaned over to say something that made her laugh. I glanced back at Richard. He wasn’t sharing in the joke. Instead, his gaze was intently focused on Liza. She was still digging through the paperwork on the judges’ desk. His gaze then shifted to Claudia, who straightened her spine and stared back at him as if challenging him.

  When Mary and Tilly Swendson came forward, Tilly looked pale and rather sickly, while Mary seemed pleased. There was a small skirmish with the crystal bowl as Tilly held on to it, glancing at Liza, while Mary tried to present it to Aunt Betty. Finally, Mary wrenched the bowl from Tilly’s grasp and handed it up to Aunt Betty.

  With a look of triumph, Aunt Betty held it up over her head, Andre took a million pictures and the crowd cheered with terrific enthusiasm. I clapped and stomped my feet and let out a series of “woo-hoos” until I was practically hoarse.

  It was one of the greatest moments of my life made even more special when Harry joined me behind the podium with a sleeping Bella snuggled up under his coat. This. This was what we’d been trying to achieve, and Freddy and Aunt Betty looked amazing up there on the podium, soaking in all the glory that was their due.

  I was pretty sure my heart was going to explode out of my chest.

  “You did it,” Harry whispered in my ear. I turned to smile up at him.

  “Freddy did it,” I said. “I just followed him, trying not to hold him back.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “You were amazing. If you hadn’t stepped up, Aunt Betty wouldn’t be having her moment.”

  See? This is why I love this guy. He’s always in my corner. Always.

  Andre was working the scene, taking pictures of the five winners with their dogs. Everyone was smiling, except Richard. I supposed losing was better in theory than in actuality. I imagined he’d get over it soon enough. There was always next year.

  After pictures, the winners and their guests were invited to high tea in one of the smaller banquet rooms in the building. Personally, I was starving and the thought of a chicken or egg salad sandwich, preferably with curry, and some macarons was taking over my brain with an insistence that was impossible to ignore.

  The audience was filing out of the building and the crowd noise lessening. In my mind, I hurried them all along with a mental shooing of my hands. Go, go, go. People need to eat. And by people, I mean me.

  Nick, Viv, Fee and Alistair were making their way toward us. They’d been chosen as our guests for the celebratory high tea held after the winners were announced. I noticed that Fee had her hand on Alistair’s elbow and he was leaning over her in the solicitous way a boyfriend does. Hmm. Behind them Viv and Nick followed. Nick was chatting away but Viv looked distracted. Her gaze kept landing on Fee’s hand on Alistair’s arm and then flitted away, then returned and then darted away again. I got the feeling she was trying to figure out what it meant, but also, she didn’t want to know. Poor Viv. She was going to lose a good guy all because she’d been too afraid to try.

  The arena was half-empty when they reached us, with just the hangers-on lingering, to get pics with their favorite dogs, when Liza erupted from the judges’ table as if she’d been shot out of a cannon. She clutched two papers in her hand and she strode to the front of the podium with purpose, as if she was about to stop a crime.

  “Wait!” she cried. Her voice was as shrill as a police whistle. “Stop! I said stop!”

  Everyone froze and turned toward her as if in slow motion. The looks of shock on the faces of the people in the arena were identical to what I was sure was on my face. What the heck was the woman doing? Stop what? Surely she couldn’t mean the trophy ceremony.

  Claudia stepped forward, clearly trying to head Liza off. She reached the small podium with the mic a second before Liza did and shook her head as if to signal that Liza should stop whatever she was doing immediately. I glanced at Mary Swendson. She was frowning, looking confused, while Tilly’s eyes were wide with what looked to be hope. What was going on?

  A glance at Richard and the other winners showed that they looked bewildered as well. The only one who didn’t look surprised was Aunt Betty. Instead she looked braced as if she’d been expecting something like this.

  She held the crystal bowl in her arms and I saw her fingers tighten on the rim as she stared at Liza. If looks could dematerialize a body, Liza would have evaporated into mist on the spot. Sadly, she didn’t.

  Instead, after a quick hissed conversation, Liza wrestled the mic out of Claudia’s hand. Well, she tried to, but Claudia put up a pretty good fight. Undaunted, Liza began to speak into the mic while bent over and struggling with Claudia in a tug-of-war over the microphone, which had them knotted up and walking sideways like a crab following a receding wave into the sea.

  “I’m sorry but there’s been a mistake,” Liza said. Her voice was ragged as she struggled to keep her mouth close enough to the mic for her voice to project throughout the arena. “Freddy has two applications filled out with different handlers listed—this is a clear violation of competition rules. He is disqualified. I repeat, Freddy is disqualified. The winner of the PAWS dog show for the fourth year in a row is Muffin and her handler, Richard Freestone!”

  Chapter 16

  Pandemonium broke out! The arena erupted into shouts of outrage and indignation. That was mostly our group. Nick was shouting and gesturing as if directing traffic, and Fee was right there beside him. Alistair had his hands on his hips and was striding forward, clearly attacking the situation from a lawyerly perspective. Harry reached out and grabbed his arm, halting his progress. Viv crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Liza as if trying to determine where exactly she wanted to stick her with some long, lethal hatpins. Oh, dear.

  I hated that I was caught off guard, but honestly, I couldn’t believe what was happening. It was such a load of rubbish. Liza had done this on purpose, fi
rst by telling Aunt Betty that her registration papers would continue to be “misplaced” and then by letting me register in her place. It was almost as if she’d been planning this all along. I felt Aunt Betty’s gaze meet mine, and I knew she was thinking the same thing. We’d been set up.

  All of a sudden, I felt a chill in my bones. The note Aunt Betty had received threatening Freddy. Had that been Liza’s doing?

  The sound of boos began to increase in volume, and I noticed several of the PAWS volunteers, situated around the arena, were voicing their displeasure. No one liked to see an award get taken away by a technicality, and I wondered if Liza had factored the negative reaction into her plan. Claudia let go of her abruptly and Liza staggered. She glared at her volunteers, but they didn’t quiet down. She turned her back to them and shrugged. Liza Stanhope clearly did not care how this played out. She strode to the podium and tried to forcibly take the crystal bowl out of Aunt Betty’s hands.

  “Oy!” Harry hefted Bella up and into my arms before hurrying to Aunt Betty’s side to give her a hand. He looked back at Alistair and shouted, “Go wide!”

  Alistair took off at a run. Freddy was growling at Liza from his spot on the dais. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was protesting her attempt to take his award away.

  “Let go!” Aunt Betty said. “It’s my award. Freddy won it fair and square. I don’t want to hear your nonsense about some clerical error.”

  “It is not nonsense,” Liza huffed. She doubled down, putting her weight into tugging the bowl from Aunt Betty. Harry wasn’t having it, however, and he grabbed the bowl from the bottom and used Liza’s momentum to push her away and then pull the bowl out of her hands.