Bad to the Bone

by Linda O. Johnston

  “But that would mean fewer dogs around to eat VimPets food—although I realize most shelters can’t afford our premium products.” Wanda smiled at Billi, then at Jack. “I have a feeling, though, that Mountaintop Rescue has been feeding its wards some of our goods. And, hopefully, paying for it, since I’ve seen no files about donating to the shelter here.”

  She was now baiting both of them—Jack, in case he’d donated food to the shelter run by the woman he was dating, since in some way that was inappropriate to VimPets policies; and Billi, in case she’d used donations to the shelter to pay the premium prices charged for VimPets products.

  I noticed that everyone else around the table—Neal, Janelle, and even Reed, for this moment—were eating, trying to act as if all was fine. I took a couple bites of my own chicken Kiev and rice.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Wanda continued. “I understand what you’re saying. I love dogs. And I really hope we can get some good, healthy recipes from you, Carrie, ones we can brag to the world about since they were developed by a skilled veterinary technician as over-the-top healthy treats for all our customers’ dogs. But just like I wonder about whether Mountaintop Rescue is all it’s professed to be, I want to make sure that any recipes we get from you really are healthy and unique, and not just something anyone can find online.”

  The smug smile she shot at me made me want to stand and confront her. Or take the position right now that she, and VimPets, would never get me to sell any recipes to them at all.

  In fact, I moved my glare toward Jack with that message in my eyes. I figured he’d be able to read it.

  He did. Maybe he was expecting it. Suddenly he stood. He took Wanda’s arm and made her stand, too, facing him.

  “Back down, Wanda,” he growled at her. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to accomplish, but if it’s supposed to be helpful somehow, I don’t see it. And some of our higher-up execs might be interested in hearing what’s happening here.”

  “I’m sure they would. That’s what I’m saying. One in particular would be interested in hearing what’s happening between us.” Since she was across the table from me, I saw her expression, which appeared both joyous and challenging.

  I didn’t understand what was going on between Jack and her, but her next words confused me even more.

  “Oh, don’t worry, my dear Jack. My report to our bosses will be about what a great job you’re doing here, as we discussed. And how you’re doing such a great job wooing the veterinary technician, whose new Barkery is gaining such a following in Knobcone Heights and beyond, to sell you some very special recipes.” She paused. “Or, at least, that’s what I’ll tell them if it leads to your saying nice things about me, too. I’m ready for a promotion, just like you are. And of course, if we keep seeing each other, I’ll tell them all the stuff that they’ll like.”

  I didn’t understand what this woman was really trying to accomplish. What she was saying seemed almost contradictory. Did she like Jack romantically? Did she want him to work with her, and would she help him achieve what he supposedly was looking for here in Knobcone Heights? Or was she threatening him in case he didn’t bend to her wishes and give her lots of kudos and recommendations to their bosses?

  I wasn’t sure which way Jack was interpreting it either, but apparently not the way Wanda wanted.

  He again took her arm, perhaps harder this time since she seemed to wince and try to pull away.

  “I don’t know what you’re up to, Wanda. We’ve been working together for a while, and I’ve liked it—till now. You seem to be trying to undermine what I want to accomplish, for your own purposes and not for the good of the company. And this personal stuff? We’ve talked, yes, and you’re staying in my apartment, but not—”

  “Let’s not talk about it in front of all these people, Jack.” Wanda’s tone was harsher now than I’d heard it. “And if you think you’re going to get away with breaking things off with me to—”

  It was Jack’s turn to interrupt. “There’s nothing to break off with you.”

  “Not that you want anyone to know. But we know. And I’ll make sure you pay big for anything you do that’s not good for me.”

  “Ditto,” Jack yelled. “And who’s more senior, with the higher position within the company? Not you. You can be sure you’ll pay for this nonsense. And—”

  “Forget it. That’s enough, you pig. I’ll make sure you’re the one who’ll pay. Believe me.” She pulled away from him, shot a glare toward everyone at the table, and stomped away from the patio.

  Three

  For a long moment, all of us were quiet, even the dogs.

  I felt both stunned and confused. What was really going on?

  Who was that woman, and what was actually on her mind? She worked for a company that was all about taking good care of dogs, and she claimed to love them, yet I wasn’t certain she even liked them. She’d seemed to taunt Reed for trying to save the lives of all dogs, not only aggressive ones but the poor, sweet ones who were housed in shelters. She’d taunted Billi about that, too. Her attitude was definitely upsetting to a dog lover like me.

  Then there was Jack. She claimed to care about him, even sleep with him, yet she’d just threatened his career at VimPets. But Jack was higher up in management, wasn’t he? He told her that. How could she harm him—except by telling lies?

  And why?

  I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask.

  Turning to Jack, who’d just sat down again, I said, “What was that all about?”

  He glared at me initially, as if his hope had been to just let Wanda leave and pretend nothing unusual had happened.

  Then his shoulders sagged.

  “I’d like to say that woman is just nuts, but—well, she’s actually pretty smart. And conniving. She’s trying to work her way up the VimPets corporate ladder by any means she can.” He smiled grimly. “Any means, including sleeping with one of the highest executives—and I certainly don’t mean me. But she’s threatening to tell him that I’ve come on to her, so he’ll fire me.” He shook his head.

  “Then she’s not staying in your apartment?” That was Billi, who remained seated. Her tone was cold enough to make Biscuit stir at my feet.

  “No, actually, she is—mainly because that same executive knows I have a place here and that she wanted to come and check out what I was doing. He essentially tied me to her, here, so she could observe me and report back to him. She intends to use her position to do her damnedest to get rid of me, since the next rung on her ladder to the top is currently occupied by me.”

  I was surprised when my brother was next to dive into this conversation, since he and Janelle were the most remote observers in this group. But Neal, his light eyebrows raised as if he felt sympathy for Jack, said, “Then there’s nothing at all—well, intimate in your relationship?”

  “No, there’s not.” Jack sounded furious that someone would even ask. This time it was Rigsley who moved, standing and rubbing his back against his owner’s leg as if trying to comfort him—without success. “Wanda is staying in the extra bedroom in my apartment, just like my boss and I discussed. But she slipped into my room last night and tried—well, that’s too much information. And now she’s making it clear she’ll try to use the fact we’re in the same apartment, and the lie that there’s more to it, that I tried to initiate something, to control me. The b—” He didn’t finish but seemed to sag again.

  I glanced at Billi. Was she buying this?

  Did she care?

  I thought I read a momentary look of sympathy in her dark brown eyes, but then her expression hardened. “You could have said no, even if it was your boss who asked you to let her stay there,” she said. “It sounds fairly obvious it could lead to trouble.”

  “Sure, I could have. But you don’t know the personalities involved. I might have been canned on the spot for daring to disobey the guy.
”

  The two of them traded glares, but their expressions both softened simultaneously. Maybe Jack and Billi really did care about one another. If so, Wanda was definitely an intruder.

  Of course, if Jack did care for Billi, couldn’t he have found a way to deal with this in advance—maybe by not coming to town right now? Or by subletting his apartment, so he wouldn’t have someplace for Wanda to stay? Or …

  Okay. I was getting too wrapped up in this situation, maybe because I cared about Billi and her feelings, and I’d started viewing Jack as something of a friend, too. After all, I had fun jousting with him in our negotiations about selling him recipes. But now he sounded like a weakling within his organization, nervous about being booted out. Who knew whether he’d be able to make good on any promises about how my recipes would be promoted, even without this extra Wanda twist to the situation?

  I decided this might be a good time to change the subject. “Hey,” I said, “my chicken Kiev tonight is really good but I’m letting it get cold. Anyone else enjoying their dinner?”

  A couple pairs of eyes—Jack’s and Billi’s—seemed to regard me as if I’d just solved all of the world’s problems, and both began describing their own food: Jack’s T-bone steak and Billi’s lemon pepper chicken salad. As this discussion continued, I managed to look at our other tablemates, Reed and Neal and Janelle, and couldn’t help grinning at the relief and amusement on all their faces. Reed even took the opportunity to slip a piece of his own steak to Hugo.

  The worst of the evening was over.

  Reed drove me home, with both dogs in the backseat again. We soon pulled into the driveway and parked. “Would you and Hugo like to come in?” I asked.

  I’d checked with Neal beforehand. My brother lived with me, but he was spending the night with Janelle at her place, so Biscuit and I would be alone.

  “Sure,” Reed said.

  We took our dogs for a short walk in the cool night along the sidewalk of the slightly curving street, the streetlights sufficient for us to see our path easily. I had a fenced dog run for Biscuit but tended to walk her as often as I could. It certainly made sense for us to walk both dogs this evening. It wasn’t extremely late, only eight thirty. Plus, it was enjoyable to stroll past my neighbors’ houses. They were similar to my single-story home, most covered in attractive wood siding, stained a cedar shade, with several small wings with sloped roofs—but all had their individuality, too.

  Soon we returned to my place and went inside. “Would you like some beer?” I asked Reed. I was keyed up enough after all the emotional overtones of our miserable dinner to figure that coffee would keep me up all night. Alcohol might help me sleep.

  “Sure.” Reed followed me from my entry down the hall and into the kitchen.

  First thing, I made sure that the dog bowl on the wood-grained floor was filled with adequate water for Biscuit and Hugo. Then I strode to the metal fridge and brought out two bottles of beer imported from Ireland—part of Neal’s supply, but I’d replenish them.

  Neither of us needed a glass, and we sat side by side at my round kitchen table sipping beer and rehashing some of the nonsense.

  Until I stopped it.

  “I know I’ve got lots to think about regarding whether to sell VimPets some of my recipes, new or existing,” I said, looking into Reed’s dark eyes.

  There was definite concern and sympathy in his expression. “I gather you had some interest in it, though, to help promote your Barkery. But I also gather your business is pretty good, so getting extra publicity would be … well, icing on the cake.”

  I laughed aloud as he smiled at his own joke. “You’re right,” I agreed. “My interest in selling recipes to them has gone back and forth over time, and the VimPets management wasn’t particularly interested at first anyway. Jack wasn’t great at following up, either. He came to town often, though, for his work and even for recreation, since he likes to go boating. Now that he’s being even pushier about it—well, I gather from everything we just saw that he’s hoping that buying recipes from me will somehow help his position against Wanda at VimPets, but I don’t really see how. And now my answer is no. I certainly don’t want any part of his company’s politics, let alone to do anything that would bring Wanda back here again.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Reed lifted his bottle of beer.

  We clinked our bottles, and as we did so we began looking deeply into each other’s eyes.

  I had a feeling we were drinking to more than staying out of VimPets politics.

  And when Reed rose, and I rose, and I found myself in his arms kissing him deeply, I was sure of it.

  He knew where my bedroom was, down the hall. In fact, I let him lead me there.

  I woke up earlier than Reed the next morning, earlier than I needed to rise to get ready to run off to my shops and start baking for the day. I even preceded Biscuit and Hugo, who both slept on the floor in my bedroom.

  As I lay there, I couldn’t help thinking about the most enjoyable parts of our bedroom antics last night. Then I thought more about who I’d done them with.

  I’d started dating Reed a few months ago, soon after he joined the Knobcone Heights Veterinary Clinic in the spring. At first it was just fun, since I really liked him and admired his attitude about saving animals. But I also didn’t like the idea of settling down with one guy, so I’d dated others, too—including Jack when he was in town. As time went on, I’d still had some interest in seeing other men, but that had started to wane.

  And now? Well, now we were exclusive. And, clearly, more. In fact, I’d really come to care about this guy despite constantly reminding myself that we really weren’t in a relationship.

  Joining him in bed was one thing. Making a commitment was something else.

  I believed he cared about me, though. And if I was honest with myself, well … I was potentially really falling for him.

  So why was I hesitating? Because of my last relationship, the one that had gone so sour more than five years ago—which was when I moved to Knobcone Heights.

  I tried not to think about it much, but I’d once believed I’d found the love of my life, John—a lawyer around my age who appeared to love animals. Or so he claimed, and I believed him since he had a sweet pit bull named Rambo. But then he decided, in order to further his career, to move into an upscale condo where dogs weren’t allowed. Without telling me, he dumped poor Rambo at a high-kill shelter.

  I’d saved Rambo and dumped John, half wishing I could leave him in a high-kill shelter.

  Well, there was no possibility of that happening with Reed, who spent his life saving as many animals as he could and ensuring that those he couldn’t save didn’t suffer.

  If he hurt me at some point, animals wouldn’t be the cause.

  So did I dare, after all this time, to consider some kind of commitment?

  “Are you awake, Carrie?” asked a deep, husky voice from beside me. Since both dogs suddenly stood at attention, I would have been awakened even if I hadn’t been before.

  “Yes,” I said. “Thanks. It’s about time for me to start getting ready.”

  Reed knew my timing, so it wasn’t a surprise to either of us that it was only four thirty in the morning. In fact, he thought he was helping me by waking me. Which he was.

  And I appreciated it.

  I turned onto my side and pulled him tightly against me, and, well, things began to happen again. Enjoyable things. But all good things come to an end, and eventually I gave him the last kiss I’d be able to give him in bed this time. Too bad.

  I finally got up then, and so did he. I put on a robe and let both dogs into my fenced dog run, then got dressed.

  “Do you have a session at the clinic today?” Reed asked as I walked him and Hugo to my front door.

  “Happily, yes. A couple of hours this afternoon.”

  “Great. I’
ll see you then and we can talk about getting together for a private dinner, just the two of us, tonight. Sound okay?”

  “It sure does,” I said and gave him a goodbye kiss.

  Of course, at that time, I didn’t know what would happen at my shops that day.

  Four

  The day started out differently than usual on several counts. One difference was my delightful overnight visit from Reed. That led to the second, since I was almost never late to my stores. I always aimed to get there at five a.m. to start baking, and often had one of my assistants get there at that time, too.

  Today it was a good thing that I’d asked Frida Grainger to come in first thing. Frida lived in Knobcone Heights because her fiancé did. She’d graduated from the Art Institute of California and occasionally worked as a chef before moving to Knobcone Heights, and now she created her own gourmet people food in her off hours.

  Frida was a great asset to both Icing and the Barkery. And today I considered her extra special for arriving before me and starting the day’s Icing treats.

  I parked in the lot behind the stores, then walked Biscuit around to the front to let her perform any necessary duties, and also to avoid the kitchen. Biscuit was always permitted in the Barkery and Biscuits sales area, but not any other parts of the shops, in accordance with local law.

  As we reached Summit Avenue, I looked up and down the street, where streetlights provided most of the illumination in this early morning hour. A few cars cruised by but things were still pretty quiet. I didn’t see anyone across the street in the dimly lit town square.