Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology

by Lisa Mondello

  “Hold on,” said Kathy. “What do you mean about winding things up? Rocky is yours. You can’t just leave him and be on your way.”

  The man sighed. “He’s really not, you know. I fulfilled my responsibility by bringing him here. I’m done.”

  Her heart broke a little. “Why did I ever think you were a great guy?”

  He snapped to attention. “Poor judgment. You don’t even know me.”

  Kathy straightened to her full five feet two inches and eyeballed him. “Right now, I don’t even like you.” Turning to the vet, she added, “Then Rocky is mine. Sheba was a rescue, too, and now look at her! She and I will take care of this newcomer.”

  Her Roadside Rescues: Chapter 3

  Next time, he’d add lightning bolts to her costume.

  In the silence that followed, Brandon could hear the ticking of the wall clock, the sound of Kathy’s breath, and the slow chewing of the rescue as he ate his chow.

  “Rocky boy needs a calm, stable home,” said the vet. “You two are oil and water. So…” He addressed Kathy. “I know most folks around here. Are you visiting someone or just passing by?”

  Her face lit up with that golden smile. “I’m definitely not passing by. Bart Quinn found the perfect place for me—a house on the beach—so I can work without interruption.”

  Quinn’s name made Brandon’s ears reverberate. The beach? No! Please no.

  “I bet you mean Sea View House,” said Fielding.

  Her eyes glowed as if backlit by the moon, and his stomach tightened. Of all the gin joints in all the world…

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  “People in small towns know everything,” continued the vet, “and everyone knows Bart Quinn. My wife stayed in that house a few years ago. That’s where I met her. Well, I really met her in a bar, but…”

  “And I could use a drink right now. A stiff one,” said Brandon.

  Startled, they both looked at him in confusion. His lips tightened. They’d both forgotten he was in the room. Well…two could play this little game.

  “Quinn has a lot to answer for.” He stared at Kathy. “Crow’s Nest?”

  Her head jerked back. Then she nodded slowly, her mouth pursed. He watched her dismay grow as she came to the right conclusion.

  “Oh. My. God,” she said. “You’ve rented the Captain’s Quarters.” In a moment, her unhappy surprise turned to laughter, which turned into giggles, and she actually held her stomach and tried to stop. “It serves you right,” she said between gasps, “to think you could escape little Rocky.”

  He hadn’t thought about Rocky in the last few minutes. Katarina the Avenger, however, would be hard to ignore.

  “We need some rules,” he said, trying to take the lead and avoid being pulled under by events.

  “Tell you what, folks,” said Fielding. “You can figure this all out later. Just make out a check or use a credit card to Greys and Strays, the small rescue center I founded behind the office. That’s where Rocky will spend the night.”

  “How much?” asked Brandon.

  “It’s a donation. Up to you. Let’s get Sara back here now so we can finish up.”

  Once at the reception desk, Brandon reached for his wallet. “I’ll take care of this,” he said to Kathy. “I imagine you’ll be spending a fortune on other stuff for the hound.”

  “Whatever makes you happy.”

  “Finding another place to live would make me happy.” After tossing his credit card to the vet, he pulled out the ROMEO business card. He’d call Quinn as soon as possible. All was not lost.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  “I think we take a right on Outlook Drive,” said Kathy, behind the wheel. “Which is coming up.” She turned onto the street and gasped. “Look at that house! It’s huge.”

  On the corner and outlined against the darkening sky, the two-story with third-floor attic loomed large.

  “Sure looks it,” said Brandon. “Pull into the driveway and take your dog for a walk. I want to make a call.”

  She gave him one of those exasperated-with-men looks. “If you’re calling the garage about your things, don’t bother. You can take my car and retrieve them. I don’t mind.”

  He was hoping not to return to Sea View House, but he just nodded. “Thanks.” He watched her lead Sheba to the curb and connected with Bart Quinn.

  A total waste of time, as it turned out. “Nothing else is available?” asked Brandon in disbelief. “Yeah, I know it’s winter at the beach. But…”

  He listened to the fast-talking Realtor. “Nothing else is winterized? Mostly summer places?” The man talked more quickly than an auctioneer.

  “Yeah, I met her. If you want more details, call your pal Joe Cavelli. His son will have filled him in by now.”

  He listened to a fast discourse on where the keys were, disconnected, and threw his head back to look at the sky. The clouds were breaking up. Stars were beginning to show themselves, some twinkling brightly, others dim. It was a big world out there. A universe. He cocked his head and listened. From the near distance, he heard a rhythmic whoosh—the sound of waves hitting the shore right behind the house. Where else could he find such a place?

  He’d been looking forward to this getaway. Grateful for it. Grateful to his uncle for suggesting it. Quinn was a character, a big personality. The man knew what he wanted and pounced while, at the same time, attracting a stable of loyal friends to help him get things done. A man’s man. And, he guessed, a woman’s man, too.

  He refocused on his immediate surroundings. On Kathy Russo, who, with her dog, seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

  Walking toward her, he extended his hand.

  “I’m Brandon Bigelow, a self-employed graphic artist, nephew of a ROMEO, recently of Boston, now of Sea View House. If we’re going to make this work, we need some rules.”

  Her hand got lost in his, reminding him that superheroes always projected larger than life. Chuckling silently, he turned so she wouldn’t see his smile.

  “Let’s decide those rules tomorrow. We’ve got other things to do first.” She waved toward the car. “If this isn’t unloaded, then you can’t fill it with your stuff.”

  “I can lease a car for—”

  “Don’t be an idiot. It’s getting late, and taking mine is more practical. But we have to figure out how we get into the house.”

  He pointed toward the left. “Side entrance. Key’s under the mat. We’re not in Boston anymore, Dorothy.”

  “And I am so glad!”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  She released the trunk lock, and he started lifting suitcases, duffel bags, and cartons of books. “Are you taking a reading vacation?”

  “I’m a working woman. Those are mostly reference books plus some fiction. I’ve got many more books on my e-reader.”

  The keys were exactly where Bart Quinn said they’d be. Kathy found the light switch and let Sheba run upstairs.

  “She’s a lot faster than we are,” she joked, as she followed with a duffel bag and her computer.

  The staircase led to a landing with another door, where Sheba sat, waiting.

  “Okay, girl. Let’s see.” Kathy turned the same key into the lock and swung the apartment door open. She found the wall switch and light flooded the space.

  “O-oh…a country kitchen! Huge. Perfect!” She ran toward the oversized table and put her computer down before reaching into the duffel bag to retrieve Sheba’s bowls. She filled one with water, then turned to see Brandon coming from the hallway.

  “Didn’t know which bedroom you wanted…” he began.

  She jogged past him, past two closed doors, and then saw one large and one small bedroom facing each other. The larger room had an oversized desk and chair. “I’ll work my day job in here.” She called out to Brandon, “Did you come across a second computer?”

  “This one?”

  She snatched it and put it on the desk. “Okay, now I’m set. Two work spaces. I’m happy. Let’s fini
sh up.”

  Twenty minutes and several trips upstairs later, not a square inch of kitchen counter space was visible. Bags of groceries covered the area.

  Brandon grunted at it. “Did you think you’d be at the North Pole? You look ready to weather a siege.”

  “That is not my doing!” Annoyance filled her. “My mother thinks I’ll starve.” She reached into a bag. “Oh, for crying out loud, she cooked, froze, and packed it.”

  “Sounds like a good mom.”

  “Depends on your definition.” She lifted plastic storage bowls of meatballs, sauce, chicken. “I know how she thinks. In this weather, food would not spoil.” She put it in the fridge. “And it didn’t. It’s safe to eat. My dad must have been in on it. He’s got a second set of keys to my place. Dang! Mom’s tentacles…she wanted them to reach to Pilgrim Cove.” She twirled in place and pointed at Brandon.

  “Do not be born into a big, noisy, nosy, opinionated, and overbearing family if you want to keep your sanity! Got it?”

  “The thought gives me a rash.” His serious voice was belied by eyes that gleamed.

  “And stop laughing.”

  “Truth is that I haven’t laughed as much in one day in a very long time.”

  Silence prevailed—for a moment. “I hope you’ll be able to laugh at the bill for your poor car.” She tossed him the keys to her Honda. “Good luck. I’ll help you when you get back.”

  “Not necessary. I travel light…er than you.”

  “Anyone would,” she admitted with a sigh.

  He shrugged. “But we still need to talk about—”

  “The rules of sharing Sea View House.”

  He nodded sharply. “No offense. But I’m not here to socialize.”

  “That makes two of us. And I wasn’t planning on having a downstairs neighbor, either.” She eyed him straight on. “Let’s keep our distance and maybe this won’t be so awful after all.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  The news about his car wasn’t good. Body work, alignment check.

  He thanked Charlie for the quick estimate of cost and pickup date, unloaded his stuff into Kathy’s car, and asked the man for directions to a grocery store. He certainly didn’t have the food supply Kathy had.

  He paused in the soup aisle and loaded up on a variety. Hot dogs, rolls, frozen pizza, milk, yogurt, coffee, bread…some bananas, apples. He went to the deli section and bought a cooked chicken. Paper products next. By the time he got to the checkout line, his cart was almost full. He’d be good for two weeks. Hopefully.

  He pulled into the Sea View House driveway, automatically checking the upstairs windows. Dark. Maybe she’d shut the hall light and gone to bed. He’d have to return the keys the next day. The temperature had dropped again, and he made quick work of bringing his groceries inside.

  As he took off his parka, a knock on the back door was followed by a “Hey there,” and suddenly the kitchen seemed crowded with people, grocery bags, and dog.

  “Woof.” Sheba trotted over and looked at him with her big brown eyes, waiting expectantly.

  “Pet her. She likes you.”

  Brandon glared at the dog’s owner. “I have no idea why.” But he knelt down to accommodate the request. “Good girl, Sheba. Good girl.”

  “Sheba gives love and expects love,” said Kathy. “She trusts people now. My grandmother saved her…”

  His ears perked up as he unloaded the food. The woman thought she was softening him up about the rescue they’d brought to the vet.

  “Quit while you’re ahead. I’m not taking Rocky.”

  “If you did, you’d have the most devoted friend for years to come. Much better than people.”

  “Now that I can believe.” As he watched in amazement, she began loading the dairy into the fridge. “So let me understand this. Sheba belongs to your grandmother, but you, yourself, don’t seem to live with man’s best friend.”

  “If you had as many brothers, cousins, aunts, and uncles dropping in and out of your place, you wouldn’t add to the chaos, either.” Suddenly, she seemed unsure of herself. Maybe tired. She didn’t meet his gaze. But, to his amazement, in the next moment, she turned on him.

  “Why are you eating all this canned soup? Don’t you know how much sodium is in each one?”

  He pushed the soup away and returned the car keys. “We’re done here. Good night. Go home.”

  She took the keys, spoke to the dog, and headed outside without another word to him.

  The silence echoed. So maybe he’d bullied her a little. But finally, peace and quiet prevailed, just the way he wanted. In fact, if he could believe what she’d said earlier about keeping distance between them, she wanted a quiet life, too. Never friends but perfect housemates.

  Her Roadside Rescues: Chapter 4

  “That short walk to the curb didn’t count, Sheba. I promised you a run on the beach, and that’s where we’re going now.” After a quick breakfast of toast and coffee the next morning, Kathy clipped on Sheba’s leash, put on her own navy parka again, and clambered down the stairs to the outside door.

  Crisp air, clear skies, and a temperature in the thirties greeted her. Kathy inhaled the clean, briny smell of early winter next to the ocean, just as delicious as she’d imagined it would be. Leading Sheba to the right and passing the backyard of the house, she crossed a row of dunes and found herself on the beach. The sand was packed down after the recent freezing rain. A harder surface than when sunbaked, but perfect for running.

  “Ready, Sheba?” She extended the leash and started to jog alongside the dog. Soon the strains of moving day disappeared, and she savored her surroundings. She waved to another hardy soul, a woman in a woolen cap, who ran with two young boys. The three waved back at her.

  “Sea View House?” the woman called.

  “Yes.”

  A victory salute and a chorus of “Yay” from all three as they passed by.

  “Weird but friendly, huh, Sheba? But it doesn’t matter since I’m not actually going to make real friends with anyone here. We’re only temporary residents.”

  She started to head back to the house, but Sheba pulled on her leash. “No chasing seagulls, sweetheart. I’m not sure you’d return to me when I called you back. I’ll have to ask Nonna.”

  “Woof.” She pulled again.

  Coming at them from behind was a familiar figure, also dressed for a run.

  “Oh, that’s why you spoke,” she said to the dog.

  Brandon nodded as he passed them and continued on.

  “Well, okay, then. Message received.”

  Once back at her door fifteen minutes later, she paused to catch her breath. “Do you even have the energy to climb upstairs, Sheba?”

  The golden retriever mix wasted no time in scampering up, then looked down at Kathy, who followed at a slower pace. “Okay, girl. You win. And what’s this?”

  Taped to her door was a handwritten note in all caps.

  VET CALLED.

  YOUR DOG IS READY FOR PICKUP. TODAY.

  “For goodness’ sakes, Sheb. I bet Dr. Fielding never used those words. Pickup. Like an order of fast food!”

  She knew she was venting, so disappointed in her housemate for not stepping up. And now, she’d have to provide poor Rocky with a home, at least for a while. Maybe Dr. Fielding would find folks who’d want to adopt him. The veterinarian did run a rescue center, after all.

  She entered her apartment, searched online for his number, and got advice about what to buy for Rocky. Looking longingly at her personal computer and array of folders at one end of the kitchen table, she sighed with remorse. Evenings and weekends were reserved for her writing. She’d earned some praise—and royalties—for her first self-published mystery and was now halfway through the second in the series. Success with readers required a steady rate of book releases. And that required her butt to be in the chair!

  Her fingers itched to be on the keyboard. She knew exactly where she’d left off in the story. “Just one peek, Sheba.�
�

  In five minutes, she was in deep, and two hours later, she stood and stretched in every direction. The apartment came into focus again. Sheba, who’d been napping at her feet, stood quietly, watching her every move.

  Kathy glanced at the clock. “Holy Toledo, Ohio! Time’s flying. And now we’ve got some shopping to do.” She rubbed her companion on the scruff. “But it was a great session. Keep your paws crossed for me. And let’s hope Rocky is a good boy.”

  She ate a quick lunch, leashed Sheba, and ran down the stairs. They’d head for the pet and supply store just outside of town that Dr. Fielding had suggested. Rocky had weighed in at fifty-two pounds but, according to the vet, needed to gain more muscle mass in a loving home with regular meals.

  “He’s a mix of poodle and black lab,” Dr. Fielding had said, “maybe with something else, and he could hit sixty pounds with the right care. That would do it.”

  “Sixty pounds? Oh, my…”

  “That shouldn’t be surprising to you. I’d guess your Sheba weighs in at about fifty-five.”

  “Really? She-she seems more delicate than that. Delightful to have around and graceful running on the beach.”

  Fielding’s laugh echoed in her ear. “Nice description. Her flowing hair can mislead you. Well, Rocky’s a good boy, too, Ms. Russo. Just needs a good home—a lot of love and knowing who’s boss.”

  She gulped. “Are you talking about me?”

  “Is Bigelow out of the picture?”

  “For sure. And not for lack of trying on my part. And let me be honest, I’ll keep him for now. But just until you find a permanent home. I’ve got Sheba, too…”

  “I see,” he said slowly. “But it’s still better for Rocky if he goes with you. Sheba is a happy girl. You know what you’re doing. The only difference is that now you’ll be the alpha of a little pack.

  “A little pack?”

  “Not to worry. We’ll talk more when you get here.”

  Kathy hung up slowly. The alpha? All she’d wanted was a quiet, calm life at the beach. Just her and Nonna’s perfect rescue. She had no experience in training a dog. Or in handling an injured one. She had no desire to be the “alpha.”