Slowly, Davey slid his backpack off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. “Am I in trouble?” he asked.
My son has a very expressive face. I watched his brow pucker and realized that he was thinking through a list of recent infractions, checking for the likely crime. The mother in me found it interesting that doing so should take more than a second or two.
“Not at all.” Sam’s answer was quick. “In fact, just the opposite.”
“That’s . . . good,” Davey said carefully. He still looked confused. “What is the opposite?”
“Your mother and I have a surprise for you.”
“Awesome.” Davey’s trepidation vanished; his face split in a grin. “What is it?”
Sam glanced my way. “Maybe your mother wants to tell you.”
“No,” I replied. “It was your idea. You go ahead.” Sam and I had already discussed how we were going to play this. We’d decided that Davey and Augie should meet first. Then once we saw how they got along, we’d ask Davey if he wanted to have the puppy for his own.
“You know I’ve been missing having a dog to show,” said Sam.
Davey nodded.
“Your mom and I thought that since things are finally beginning to calm down around here, it might be a good time to add a new puppy to the family. How would you feel about that?”
“Great!” Davey agreed happily.
If there was a boy anywhere that would turn down a puppy, he certainly didn’t live in my family.
“A friend of mine has a puppy available,” Sam told him. “And guess who his sire is?”
He didn’t have to think long. There was only one male Poodle in the house. “Tar!”
“You got it.”
“Awesome!” Davey cried. It seemed to be the word of the day.
“We can go pick him up this afternoon,” I said.
Davey’s eyes widened. “Like today?”
“Right now, if you want.”
“Cool,” said Davey. “Let’s go!”
The drive to Ridgefield took half an hour. Being midwinter, it was dark by the time we arrived. Davey chattered with great animation for the duration of the trip. When he hopped out of the car at the Kirkwoods’ house, he’d already compiled more information about Augie from Sam than I had.
He skipped ahead to the house and rang the doorbell while I was still unfastening Kevin’s car seat. “I guess we don’t have to wonder how Davey feels about this plan,” Sam said with a laugh. He took Kevin out of my arms and gave me a little push. “Go on. Go catch up.”
Sandy Kirkwood answered the door. She was a slender woman about my age with pale blue eyes, translucent skin, and worry lines bracketing the sides of her mouth. She smiled happily at the sight of us, however, and we were quickly ushered into her home.
“Our kennel is in the basement,” Sandy said, leading us to the living room. “Peter just ran down to get Augie. They’ll be back up in a minute.”
We heard the muffled sound of pounding feet, and then a door slammed in another part of the house. Sandy called the puppy’s name and a low, throaty woof replied. Then Peter and Augie rounded a corner and came through the doorway together.
The big black puppy had just enough hair to require a single rubber band in his topknot and one on each of his ears. His face, his feet, and the base of his tail were clipped close. The rest of his body was covered with a plush coat of dense inky hair. His tail, topped by a round black pompon, was wagging enthusiastically.
Augie started to race toward Sandy, then abruptly slid to a stop at the sight of all the extra people in the room. I crouched down and held out a hand. Davey did the same. Sam, still holding Kevin, hung back.
It took the puppy only a few seconds to recover. His tail snapped back up. He bounded forward once more. Augie reached me first, but when Davey said his name, he quickly changed direction. Davey held out his arms, and the Poodle puppy romped straight into the embrace as if they were already the best of friends.
Davey opened his mouth to say something, but when Augie’s tongue snaked out and tickled his ear, he sputtered a laugh instead. His fingers were already stroking the thick hair over the puppy’s shoulders. Between the two of them, it was a toss-up as to which one looked happier.
“That looks like a match to me,” said Peter.
Sam caught my eye, and I nodded.
“Me too,” he agreed. “Let’s sit down and finalize the paperwork.”
The two men went off to another room. Davey remained on the floor with Augie. Sandy and I took a seat on the couch. She told me what kind of food Augie was currently eating and where he was on his vaccination schedule.
“Peter has this all written down,” she said. “He’ll give the information to Sam with the papers. But I figured I’d run through a few things in case you had any questions.”
I was already well acquainted with the breeding program that had produced Augie. Sam had received verification of Maid Marian’s genetic testing before allowing her to be bred. And since Tar was the puppy’s sire, roughly half of his ancestors were living in Aunt Peg’s house. So aside from the day-to-day details, there wasn’t anything else I needed to know.
“I was sorry to hear about you and Peter,” I said instead.
Sandy gave a small shrug. “It happens. We’ll get through it. At least we’re both managing to act like adults. And not having children makes things easier. I’m really happy that Augie’s going to a good place. That’s a huge relief.”
“He’s a beautiful puppy, and we’re thrilled to have him.” I gestured toward the pair on the floor. “As you can see.”
“Kids and dogs,” Sandy said with a sigh. “There’s nothing better.”
“Who gets custody of Maid Marian?” I asked.
“She’ll go with me. Marian’s the only one I’m taking. Peter will keep the rest of the bitches and the Kirkwood kennel name. Just getting that all separated out has been a huge undertaking. I think the Louisiana Purchase took less negotiation than we’ve been through.”
“I can imagine.”
“While we have a minute to talk,” said Sandy, “I heard about what you’re working on. You know, with Edward March.”
I looked at her in surprise. “How do you know about that?”
“Are you kidding? The dog show grapevine has been buzzing about his book for weeks.”
Oh, right, the book.
“Do you know India Fleming?” Sandy asked.
“Not personally. I know who she is. I’ve shown under her.”
“Close enough.”
In dog show circles, it was.
“If you haven’t already done so, you might want to talk to her. India’s pissed as hell about Edward’s plans, and she has plenty to say on the subject.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll do that.”
“Just don’t tell her I sent you.”
“Why not?”
“India has a temper. She also has power and the cojones to use it. Maybe it’s cowardly of me, but I’d rather not get on her bad side.”
“Like Edward March is?”
Sandy nodded. “The funny thing is, the two of them have a lot in common. India is also very aware of her stature in the dog show world and of the legacy that she’s creating. Because of that, she has no intention of letting some dumb book tarnish her reputation.”
“I’ll definitely talk to her,” I said.
I’d overlooked India before. It was beginning to look as though that might have been a mistake.
Chapter 22
We waited until we got home to tell Davey about the rest of his surprise.
He was every bit as talkative on the car ride back from Ridgefield as he had been on the way there. On this trip, however, Davey pulled the big puppy into his lap, and his steady stream of chatter was directed at Augie rather than the car’s human occupants. I listened with a smile as Davey pointed out local landmarks, extolled the virtues of our large fenced backyard, and acquainted the puppy with the names and p
ersonalities of the other Poodles he was about to meet.
As we pulled into the garage, Davey wrapped up his monologue. “The best thing is that at our house you won’t have to live in the basement.”
“I’m sure the Kirkwoods’ basement is very nice,” Sam said as he turned off the car and hit the button to close the garage door. Apparently, he’d been listening in, as well.
“Maybe, but sleeping on someone’s bed is better.” Davey let that thought dangle for a moment, then added, “Until Augie gets used to being in a new house, maybe he could sleep in my room. What do you guys think?”
I turned around in my seat. Kevin’s head was tipped sideways to rest on his shoulder. Lulled by the long ride, he was fast asleep. At the other end of the seat, Augie was still lying across Davey’s lap. Davey’s arms were clasped around the puppy’s neck, holding him close. Both boy and puppy gazed up at me hopefully.
“Up until now, Augie’s been a kennel dog,” I reminded him. “So he’s going to have to sleep in a crate until he’s housebroken. But I don’t see any reason why his crate can’t be in your room. Besides . . .”
I glanced over at Sam and gave him a nudge. In the car’s half-light, with the seat between us, Davey shouldn’t have been able to see the small gesture. Even so, he seemed to sense that something was up.
“Besides, what?” he asked.
“We think it ought to be your decision where Augie sleeps,” Sam told him. “Considering that he’s going to be your dog.”
For several seconds there was only silence. I watched Davey’s eyes grow wide. Then he tilted his head and gazed down at Augie as if he was seeing the puppy in a whole new light. Augie’s tail thumped up and down obligingly on the seat.
“Really?” Davey managed to say finally. “My dog?”
“If you want him to be.”
“Well . . . yeah!”
“Great,” said Sam. “Then it’s settled.”
“So what does that mean?” Davey asked eagerly. “Can I do anything I want with him?”
“Within reason,” I said with a laugh. There isn’t a mother in the world who would give an eleven-year-old boy total carte blanche.
“I promised the Kirkwoods that we would finish his championship,” Sam told him. “I thought you and I could work on that together. But afterward, if you want to try something different with Augie, like agility or disc dogs, or if you’d rather do nothing at all, it’s totally up to you.”
“Wow.” Davey exhaled slowly. “Awesome.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I reached around and ruffled my son’s hair, then slid my hand down and did the same to Augie’s abbreviated topknot.
“Hey, be careful with my dog’s hair!” Davey said with a grin. He’d been the recipient of many similar warnings over the years. “If we want Augie to finish, we need to start protecting his coat.”
“You’re a child after Aunt Peg’s heart,” I said.
Not everyone would take that as a compliment, but it only made Davey’s smile widen. Sam’s, too, for that matter.
Beaming like a kid who thought he’d won the lottery, Davey started to get out of the car. Then he looked back at his little brother, still asleep in the car seat, and stopped.
“What if Kevin gets upset that I have my own puppy and he doesn’t?” he asked hesitantly. “I don’t want him to feel left out. I guess maybe I could share if you guys want me to.”
I could see how much it cost Davey to make the offer. And if I hadn’t known that he’d object to a display of maternal affection, I’d have run around the SUV and scooped him up in a hug. Instead, I settled for shaking my head.
“No way,” I said. “Augie is all yours.”
“Are you sure?” he asked hopefully.
“Having a dog is a big responsibility,” said Sam. “You’re going to have to exercise Augie and feed him and help with his housebreaking. Kevin’s much too young for stuff like that. Maybe when he’s older, he’ll get his own puppy, too. But only if he earns the privilege by being a really good kid, just like you did.”
Sam slipped Davey a wink. Immediately, my son’s expression cleared. Eased of guilt, he hopped Augie out of the car, and the two of them skipped across the garage toward the door that led to the house.
“You’d better go, too,” I said to Sam as I stayed back to get Kevin. “Davey may need help with the introductions.”
“Right.” Sam had had the same thought. He was already on his way.
“Thank you,” I called after him.
“For what?” He paused.
“You’re great with Davey. I don’t know how you do it, but you always manage to say just the right thing.”
“Are you kidding?” Sam asked. “Who do you think I learned it from? I’ve been watching you all these years.”
Then, like Davey and Augie, he disappeared into the house. Good thing, otherwise he might have heard me start to sniffle.
Aunt Peg showed up early the next morning.
Like that was a surprise. I’d half expected to find her waiting for us in the dark when we arrived home the night before. Now I’d barely managed to get Davey away from Augie and onto the school bus before the front door opened and Peg let herself in.
As always, the Poodles went racing to welcome her. Only Augie—the newest and the youngest member of the pack and not yet certain of his place—hung back with me. And of course, he was the one that Aunt Peg most wanted to see.
She greeted the adult Poodles first, calling each one by name, scratching their ears, and chucking them under the chin. When that group felt properly acknowledged, Aunt Peg then stooped down, lowering herself to Augie’s level. She beckoned to the puppy with her fingers.
“What a gooood boy you are,” she trilled. All six Poodles looked around. They pricked their ears and cocked their heads. “Come over here, young man, so I can get a good look at you.”
Resistance was futile. Any one of us standing there could have told Augie that.
Not that it mattered. When it came to dogs, Aunt Peg was an irresistible force. And Augie, just like the other Poodles, was highly susceptible to her charms. He left my side without a backward glance and trotted straight into her open arms.
“What an excellent puppy you are,” Aunt Peg praised. She’s a big believer in positive reinforcement.
Her hands skimmed over Augie’s body with quick professional strokes. She checked his bite, his shoulder angle, and the depth of his chest—all the conformational details that she hadn’t been able to examine from ringside when she’d seen him at the show.
“Still happy with your choice?” Sam asked, coming to join us in the hall.
“Very much so.” Aunt Peg rocked back on her heels. Then she realized what he’d said, and arched a brow upward. “My choice?”
“You know we’d never make a decision like that without your approval.”
Peg fixed him with a beady eye. “As if I’d believe that. Not that the flattery isn’t welcome, mind you.”
“Anytime.” Sam grinned.
He held out a hand and pulled Aunt Peg to her feet. She dusted off her palms and had a look around. “Where is my nephew?”
“One just left for school,” I said. “The other is sitting at the kitchen table with a box of Cheerios. If you’re nice to me, I might not tell him that the new puppy got a very thorough greeting before you asked about him.”
The implied insult didn’t even slow her down. “Harrumph,” Peg said under her breath as she headed for the back of the house. “If he’s going to be a member of this family, he had better get used to that.”
Indeed.
I made Aunt Peg a cup of Earl Grey. Sam brewed another pot of coffee for the two of us. Kevin scrambled down off his chair and wandered into the pantry, where the cereal box he’d taken with him became the foundation for his next building project.
Several of the Poodles opted to follow Kevin, hoping for either a handout or an accidental spill. Tar went and stood by the back door; Augie follow
ed him there. No doubt about it, housebreaking is easier when you have older dogs willing to show a younger one the ropes. I opened the door and let the two Poodles outside.
“How old is that puppy again?” asked Aunt Peg.
“Six months. Barely.”
“Two males in a house with several bitches,” she mentioned. “You’ll need to keep an eye on that as he matures.”
“We will.” Sam nodded.
“You’re going to want to stop any problems before they have a chance to start.”
“We’ll worry about that when the time comes,” I said cheerfully. Through the window on the upper half of the door, I watched Tar and Augie as they ran around the yard together, bounding and leaping in unison through the deep powder. “But not today.”
“Right.” Aunt Peg’s tone was mild. “Today we’re going to talk about how it’s been more than two weeks since Andrew March died and you still don’t seem to know who was responsible.”
Way to kill a good mood.
I grabbed the cup of coffee Sam had left for me on the counter. It was my third of the day, but when my aunt’s in the vicinity, I tend to need fortification. I added a dollop of milk and joined her at the table.
“I heard from Edward earlier this morning,” said Aunt Peg. “Like me, he’s wondering how much longer it’s going to take you to figure things out.”
“He called you?”
“Why is that surprising? Don’t forget, I’m the one who offered him your services. So he holds me responsible for what you accomplish.” She stared at me over the rim of her mug. “Or don’t.”
“You offered him my services as an organizer and a coauthor,” I pointed out. “Not a sleuth.”
“Fair enough,” Peg shot back. “How much writing have you gotten done?”
A quickly muffled chuckle came from Sam’s direction. So much for support from that quarter.
“The book is on hold for now,” I told her. “And as for the murder, I’m working on it.”
Gone With the Woof Page 21
