“It’s nice and cool. And it’s such a hot day.” She bent and dipped her hands into the water, flicked several droplets at Baker.
She tensed, but the water landed on her back and sank through her fur, nice and cool.
“See?” Maeve dropped a few on herself too, sprinkling them over her face. She laughed and patted her legs. “Come on. Come here, girl.”
Baker bounded over to her, and Maeve helped her into the basin.
Then she took a deep breath and mumbled to herself. “It’s okay, Maeve, you’ve got this. She’s not going to hurt you. She’s not going to—”
Baker wasn’t going to bite, not ever. She licked at Maeve’s palm to prove it.
Maeve patted her, gently, and they both relaxed.
“All right,” the human said, taking a deep breath. “Now, for the shampoo.”
She squirted a blob of floral jelly from the red bottle onto Baker’s back. As Maeve scrubbed it in, it foamed all over her, even between her ears. She lifted a paw and plopped it back into the water, splashing some of it out.
It splattered everywhere, and Maeve laughed. “Come on, Baker, we’re supposed to be washing you, not me.”
Her laugh sounded like sunshine felt. Or like fresh-baked cookies smelled.
Baker couldn’t stop wagging her tail. A bit of foam floated and landed on her nose. She sneezed, then shook herself off. White bubbles sprayed all over Maeve’s dress.
She laughed and splashed flicked more water at Baker’s side. Baker slapped the water with her paws and splashed back.
Maeve shrieked, but it was a happy sound. A yip of joy.
They splashed each other until the human's hair hung in wet strings around her face and the grass around the tub was covered in little clumps of bubbles.
“Truce!” Maeve said, still laughing as she got up to turn the hose on. “Let me get the rest of the soap off.”
As soon as she finished rinsing her off, Baker hopped out of the tub and hurried over to the fence to shake herself off. She landed a few drops of water on Macavity, who gave her an indignant hiss and jumped away into his garden.
“You’re such a troublemaker,” Maeve called, approaching with a towel.
Nope. No towel. Baker was too pleased with her wet fur to let it go right now. She bolted away, kicking up clods of dirt, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth while Maeve chased her, out of breath but still managing to call and laugh.
Finally, she ran up the steps and sat on the deck.
“Oh, now you’re done?” Maeve asked.
She toweled Baker off, and after she was dry, Maeve rubbed her ears.
Baker was so happy, for a moment she almost forget to be careful.
She could almost forget Michael kicking her, the old man who abandoned her in the park, the girl who left her for days without food.
Maeve wasn’t like the others. She fed her chicken and noticed when she was scared and never forced her to do anything.
And her fingers were always gentle.
Baker wanted to stay with her.
Now she just needed to convince Maeve that she was worthy of keeping around.
Chapter Fifteen
“All right,” Maeve said, grabbing the leash that Emma had left for her. “Are you ready to try going for a walk?”
Baker jumped off her blanket and wagged her tail.
The day had been a bit warm earlier, but now it was beautiful out, the late afternoon sunshine cooled just enough by a light breeze. The perfect opportunity to attempt walking a dog. If Baker would let her, and if she didn’t lose her nerve before getting the leash on her collar.
Don’t be silly. You washed her just an hour ago. This is nothing compared to putting her in a tub of water and scrubbing her.
That had gone surprisingly well. In fact, it had been fun, which was definitely not what Maeve had been expecting.
Who knew that dogs liked splash fights?
And the look on Macavity’s face when Baker had run over to the fence to shake the water out of her fur — Maeve couldn’t breathe, she'd been laughing so hard.
This should be way easier than that. Walking a dog was supposed to be fun.
Baker dropped her head a bit, like she was trying to make it easier to attach the leash. That was a good sign, right?
Maeve sucked in a breath, gathering whatever courage she could find, and walked over to her slowly. She clipped the leash into the metal ring, then retreated to the laundry room doorway, just in case Baker decided she didn’t like it after all. The plan, if she barked or lunged, was to drop the leash and shut the lower half of the door, keeping her there until she calmed down.
But all Baker did was look up, like she was waiting for a signal.
Phase One of Operation Dog Walk complete. Initiate Phase Two.
She led Baker to the front door, then grabbed her keys and phone before heading out. Baker stayed behind her at first, but as they turned right down the street, she pulled alongside and kept pace.
Folks strode up and down the street, some of them walking their own dogs or cats. Baker would veer away from the other animals when they came close, shrinking closer to Maeve’s leg. Probably remembering the dog in the shelter that Leslie had mentioned her fighting with.
She had a hard time imagining Baker picking a fight with another dog. Even with Macavity, she only teased. And she’d been so playful during her bath.
Taking care of a dog was supposed to be a lot like taking care of a baby: messy, intense, and a lot of work.
But Baker had been no work at all, other than the work of staying out of her way.
In fact, she’d been excellent company.
Better than most people, honestly.
Maeve thought again about that dream of her lying next to the couch while she cried and pet her until she fell asleep.
At the time, she’d told herself it was a dream. Even if Baker could tell she was sad, she’d been afraid of Maeve — how ridiculous was it to think that she’d been trying to make her feel better?
But now she was wondering how true that might be. Baker seemed happy now, trotting beside her, veering off occasionally to smell the roots of a tree or to cock her head and watch a squirrel shimmy up its trunk.
The chirp of birds, the occasional chatter from someone’s front garden, or tires passing over the asphalt — it all felt so wonderfully normal. More so than anything had felt since she’d discovered that David was cheating on her.
Her throat clogged up and tears stung the corners of her eyes, but this time, it wasn’t because she was dreading what might happen next. It was because, for the first time since David, she felt like things could get better.
What if this could be her new life?
If she could win the contest, open her bakery, and spend the rest of her days inventing new pastries with Baker at her side?
If time off could be about quiet mornings drinking coffee while Baker played in Mom’s garden, and splash fights, and walks?
If she could say goodbye forever to the Leroys and the Davids, and spend time with the people who really mattered, the Emmas and the Leslies and the Bakers?
Maeve was afraid to want that, because if she couldn’t have it, her heart might break all over again.
And it was going to hurt ten times more than losing David ever had.
How could her life look so different now that Baker was here?
All she’d done was lie on a blanket and occasionally sniff stuff and wag her tail.
No, that wasn’t true.
She’d also noticed that Maeve was upset and tried to help. Even though she’d been abused by humans her whole life, Baker had still detected her sadness and tried to comfort her, a human she barely knew.
This sweet dog wasn’t just better company than most people. She was a better person than most people.
Baker slowed to sniff a leaf — or maybe it was the dirt underneath it? — and Maeve stopped, tucking her hand into her pocket and looking up at the sky. Suns
hine warmed her cheeks, made her feel like she might actually be glowing.
It was hard sometimes to remember what happy felt like, but she thought this might be it.
Baker barked once and shifted, planting her feet in front of Maeve’s.
Maeve blinked, shading her eyes to see who was coming toward them.
Jassie St. Claire.
It was like a movie villain had swung down from a skyscraper, weapon at the ready.
Except, Jassie’s only weapon was her barbed tongue. She waved and called out, “Maeve, did you give up already?”
So much for remembering what happy felt like.
Maeve pretended not to hear. Maybe she could just walk past and Jassie would decide it wasn’t worth the trouble today. “Let’s go, Baker.”
The dog looked up dubiously, but held her ground.
Jassie stopped in front of them, carrying a huge glittery purple purse. The purse shifted, then the top flap popped open and a tiny dog poked its fluffy head out. It barked, exposing ever-so-slightly-crooked but remarkably-white teeth.
“Sorry about that, Angelina Jolie doesn’t like mutts,” Jassie said, nodding to Baker.
Goosebumps prickled across her skin. “Excuse me?”
“Mutts. Mixed breeds. That’s what your dog is, right?”
Baker wasn’t her dog, but that wasn’t the point.
“Let me guess,” Jassie continued, checking her nails while her dog trembled and blinked its rheumy eyes. “You got it from that no-hope shelter at the center? I mean, that’s really sweet that you take in charity cases and all. I guess it’s the only place that lets anyone take a dog. Right?”
Baker looked up at Maeve again, like she was trying to figure out why they were talking to this person. Then she sat down, one of her shoulders brushing Maeve’s calf. She didn’t growl or bark, but her furry eyebrows shifted as she studied the mini-dog in the purse. Maybe she couldn’t figure out what it was, either.
“Is there a reason you stopped to talk to me?” Maeve asked.
“You’re in my way,” Jassie said.
She resisted the urge to point out that no one owned the sidewalk, and started to brush past her.
Jassie shifted sideways, blocking her path.
Here we go again.
“I hear you lost your job.”
Her stomach curdled. “I’m freelance, so I can’t lose my job.”
“That’s great, because I heard from one of Daddy’s friends who works at HealthNut that your audition entry wasn’t up to par.”
“Weird, because they accepted me,” Maeve replied, plastering on her brightest smile. “Daddy’s friend must’ve been mistaken.”
Baker shifted closer and leaned against Maeve’s leg. Strangely, it made her feel braver rather than freaking her out. Like the dog was backing her up.
Who exactly did Jassie think she was, anyway? The Queen Bee of baking?
“They accepted you? What did you enter?”
“A simple peanut butter cookie. I figured it would be crazy to make something over-the-top, like, say, I don’t know, a two-tier chocolate cake with live flowers on top.”
Jassie's jaw dropped. When she’d tossed insults in the past, Maeve had never really pushed back.
It felt good to stand her ground for once.
“Clearly, making a cake like that would be too much for some people.” Jassie shrugged and touched her fingers to the top of the dog-rat’s head. “But that’s all right. You do you.”
Maeve just shrugged.
“Great attitude,” she continued. “It’s just a baking contest, no big deal. Once it’s over, everything will go on like normal.”
That was below the belt. Everyone in Logan’s Creek — including Jassie — knew that opening a bakery was her life’s dream. And by now, they probably also knew that she’d been turned down for a loan by every bank in town.
“You won’t believe what I’m entering, but it’s a winner. If you need any help choosing something appropriate for your skill level—”
“I know what I’m making.”
“I did mention that one of Daddy’s friends is a major shareholder with HealthNut, didn’t I? If you wanted me to run your thing by her and make sure it’s not going to be too basic…”
Like Maeve would ever tell Jassie her plan. The last time she’d told her nemesis anything like that was senior prom. In a weak moment in Home Ec, she’d described the gown she planned to make for herself, her own design.
Jassie went home and persuaded her father to hire a French designer to come up with a dress that made Maeve’s look like a cheap knockoff of hers, even though Maeve had spent six weeks working on it.
“You’ll find out along with everyone else,” Maeve replied.
“Oh come on, it’s not like you have the talent to win or any—”
Baker barked at Jassie, drowning out the last part of her sentence.
“Wow. Control your mutt.”
“Baker, what’s wrong?”
But Baker took a step forward and barked again, glaring fiercely at Jassie. She didn’t growl, and her hackles didn’t rise. It was a dead stare, right at the wannabe baker with the crimson lipstick.
“Seriously, this is what you get for adopting instead of buying a pedigree animal like my Ang—”
Baker barked twice in rapid succession, which set Jassie’s pedigree rat into a flurry of yipping. Jassie clamped her lips together, tossed her hair, then marched off down the street in a cloud of indignation and designer perfume.
“What was that about?” Maeve whispered down at Baker.
Baker wagged her tail in response, and the expression in her eyes was practically a smirk.
The warm melty feeling was back. Had she just barked at Jassie to get rid of her?
“In that case, thank you.” Maeve patted her head, and Baker wagged her tail so hard that her entire butt wiggled as well.
Somebody was getting a treat, as soon as they got home.
Chapter Sixteen
The two things on the plates looked the same, but Maeve wanted Baker to pick the one that smelled better. She had a tub of chicken ready, as a thank you for helping.
“Help me pick the winner. Which one smells better?”
Baker sniffed the first, licked her lips. It smelled yummy. Really, everything Maeve baked now smelled delicious. She sniffed the second one, but it smelled a little too sour. She poked her nose against the rim of the first plate and pushed it forward.
“Yes! Perfect. Okay, great. So, roly-poly number one is the success so far.” Maeve picked up the plates and set them on the counter, then poured the chicken into Baker's food bowl in the laundry room.
“Good job, Baker!” She patted her head.
Baker barked, but this time Maeve didn’t jump or give off that sharp fear scent. She smiled instead.
“We’ve done a lot of good work today. I think we should take a break. What do you say? Do you want to watch a movie with me? We could watch Lassie? That’s a classic. I’ll make popcorn. And, oh, I got these!” Maeve hurried back to the kitchen and produced a bag of crunchy treats. “You can have some while we watch. What do you say?”
Baker barked and wagged her tail, then headed for her bowl. Before she had any treats or watched a movie, she wanted to finish off the chicken, in case Macavity came by later to steal it.
As if summoned by just the thought, a trilling meow came from the door to the laundry room.
“Macavity. What on earth are you doing here?”
The cat wound away from the door and toward the kitchen table. He rubbed himself up against it, lifting his front paws and landing again.
“Do you want some chicken, too?”
That wasn’t fair. Macavity hadn’t done anything to help. Baker barked disapprovingly.
“No, you’re right, Baker. Chicken is for the dog-sniffer.” Maeve winked. “But I do have some tuna somewhere around here.”
Macavity gave another meow and blinked slowly, big yellow eyes almost glo
wing in the dimness. See? She loves me, too.
This house isn’t big enough for the both of us. A grumble rose from Baker’s throat.
“What’s wrong, Baker?” Maeve asked, her forehead crinkling with worry. “Do you hear something?”
Oh, no — she was getting scared again. Baker glared at the cat, trying to make it clear it was Macavity’s fault for the noises coming from her throat.
Macavity wandered over to Baker and rubbed against her chest. Trying to make peace for the sake of the tuna. What do you say, chum?
I’m not your chum. Another grumble, as soft as she could make it this time. I could chase you out right now.
“Macavity, are you coming?” Maeve called, bringing out a tin and a can opener and popping the can, letting out a terrible fish scent.
Fine. But no peeing. Baker licked Macavity’s ear, a show of good faith.
The cat purred for a moment, then darted off between the table legs to meow and rub against Maeve’s legs.
Baker wouldn’t chase the cat around the house because she didn’t want to worry Maeve. She seemed to like him, though why anyone could like a cat, Baker would surely never understand. Who could like a creature that smelled like their own saliva and flicked their tail when they were angry?
Hadn’t cats gotten the memo? Tail wagging was for showing joy.
It was no use worrying about it now. Macavity had his fish. Baker had her chicken. And Maeve whistled as she moved around the kitchen, smiling down at them every now and again.
Everything was good again.
“Only a few more days until the competition, Baker. I think, with your help, I’ll make the most delicious roly-poly in the world, vegan or otherwise.” She busied herself with pouring water into the basin, then started clanking and clinking dirty dishes in the water.
She did this often. And she sang along to music from her laptop and shook her bottom whenever she did.
Once Maeve had finished cleaning up all the dishes, Baker followed her into the living room.
“Okay,” the human said, fiddling with the TV on the wall, and another thing sitting on a shelf beneath it. “I only have this because my no-good ex-boyfriend left it here, but whatever.”
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