Without Missing a Bark

by Stella St. Claire

  Lexingburg was still in that period of morning quiet. Most of the traffic was outgoing, people heading into the city to work, and except for places serving coffee or breakfast, most of the shops were still half an hour to an hour away from opening. Stanley was just unlocking the front door of the jewelry store when Olivia pulled up. Fender didn't seem all that inclined to leave the Wrangler, so Olivia kept the windows rolled down. It was a nice day, and he'd enjoy barking at everyone who passed.

  Stanley looked surprised—maybe even not pleased, for some reason—when she walked in the door to the jewelry store. "Olivia," he grumbled. "You're here early. We only just got the shipment yesterday."

  "Shipment?" Olivia cocked her head. "You have the ring I wanted?"

  "Olivia, I really think that you should give this some thought. You shouldn't be rushing into things like this.” Stanley leaned forward, his expression earnest. “Marriage is supposed to be forever. Are you ready for that kind of commitment?"

  "Seriously? Stanley, what is going on with you? I just want to buy a ring!"

  "Olivia?" Julie poked her head around the corner from the back office. "Oh, good! You're here! Come say hi to Floof Floof!"

  Glaring at Stanley, Olivia walked past him and headed to the back. The small, wrinkled pup was happily rolling around in his playpen. "I guess he's not traumatized by his time in captivity," Olivia cooed as she leaned over to scratch the little head.

  "No. We took him straight to the vet, and Dr. Roberts gave him a clean bill of health."

  Olivia laughed. "You took him to the vet? Sharon took hers to Lady Celeste. Her pup also got a clean bill of health."

  "Wonder if I need to make that appointment," Julie laughed. Walking to the small desk in the corner, she grabbed a piece of paper and handed it to Olivia. "My son drew this. You're a hero to him."

  Olivia studied the picture with a small smile. It was a child's drawing of a brunette stick figure and what looked like two stick-figure puppies. There was a medal around her neck and a cape flowing behind her. "This is amazing. I absolutely adore it!"

  "He made several drafts before he was satisfied," Julie said with a chuckle. "And he made me promise that I would get it to you as soon as possible. Really, we can't thank you enough. I know this whole business with Dear Ruby is terrible, but I just can't believe someone would steal puppies to sell. In this town!"

  Puppy-napping trumped murder. Olivia nodded. "I can't help but think that the two are connected, but it's hard to say. A lot of people weren't happy with her."

  "I wrote to her once," Julie admitted. "It didn't get published, but she did write me back."

  "Really? What was your issue? Or were you just writing as a fan?"

  Julie leaned against the desk, and Olivia thought she might be blushing. "It was before my husband and I married. We were engaged, and I was having second thoughts. Typical cold-feet stuff, but I was almost sure that Jack and I were meant to be together, and I thought she’d confirm it, just dismiss my jitters as . . . jitters." She shrugged. "Anyway, Ruby wrote back and told me to run. She said that my intuition was trying to tell me something."

  How could a romance advice columnist be so cynical? "You obviously didn't listen to her."

  "No." Julie cracked a smile. "I did the sensible thing and talked with Jack. It turned out that we were both feeling nervous about the big day, but it just stemmed from fear of change. We got married—and we're very happy. There are plenty of times when I want to strangle him, but I have never regretted marrying him."

  "Good for you—but I think that's kind of the problem. Everyone wants to blame ‘Dear Ruby’ for her advice, but they were the ones who ultimately took the steps to whatever ruined their lives. It's just easier to blame her." Olivia shrugged.

  "You're going to find out what happened to her?"

  "Nick's handling the investigation. I told him that I'd help when I could." Rolling up the picture, Olivia tucked it in her back pocket. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a ring to buy so that I can get my own happily-ever-after."

  "You go get him, girl," Julie laughed, giving Olivia a gentle punch on the arm.

  Stanley had the ring out waiting for her when Olivia returned, but he still looked grumpy. "It's Andrew's size. Look, Olivia, I'm not trying to take away your girl power or anything like that. I'm completely rooting for you and Andrew to finally make it down the aisle, but I'm just not sure that this is the way that you should do it."

  Olivia fingered the smooth, polished wood and sighed. "I do have to give it some thought. I'm not just going to take the ring over to him right now and propose. I want to get it right, so don't worry. It's going to take me some time to work out the perfect approach."

  "Good. Hopefully everything is going to work out okay," Stanley grunted.

  Olivia gave him her credit card and tried not to wince at the price. It was a good thing that the doggie daycare business was picking up.

  Pocketing the ring, Olivia headed back out to the car. Fender was sitting on the passenger side with his head hanging out the window. "Howl at any pretty dogs while I was gone?" Olivia joked as she unlocked the vehicle.

  She was about to get in when she noticed a nearby newspaper vending box. In the window, prominently displayed, she saw the mid-week edition that was paying homage to Dear Ruby. Opening the driver's-side door, Olivia grabbed a few quarters and slipped them into the coin slot. Pulling down the kiosk door to access the stack of papers inside, she grabbed a copy.

  ‘Dear Ruby’ had been writing for the paper for twenty-two years. That was a long time to rack up enemies. Tossing the paper into the Jeep, Olivia slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. It looked like today would be a good day to catch up on her reading.

  12

  “I just need you to know that even though we’ve had our ups and down, I feel like I’ve always been able to count on you. I didn’t even realize what love was until I met you. Your patience . . . and your ability to lie about my cooking has really helped me through the difficult parts of my life, and I can’t imagine my life without you. Will you marry me?”

  Goodwin whined and growled as he pushed at her leg with his paw. Olivia tore her gaze away from the mirror and looked down at him. “Not good? Should I start with the ‘will you marry me?’ Then I’m not springing it on him, and he can have time to think about it.”

  Glancing back in the mirror, she sighed. “No. I don’t want to give him time to think about it. I need a gut-reaction answer. Hopefully it’s a yes.”

  Fender immediately farted from the corner, and the smell wafted outward to fill the room. Groaning, Olivia pinched her nose together. “Honestly, if he tells me no, I’m going to assume it’s because he doesn’t want to live with the lady who has two crazy dogs.”

  Goodwin perked his ears forward, and she bent down to give him a kiss on the head. “Don’t worry, baby. I still love you. You just need a male role model around, and honestly, Andrew is the best. And don’t try to convince me that you don’t love him because I know that he sneaks you both table scraps when he thinks that I’m not looking. I’m blaming him for Fender’s gas.”

  She needed to abandon the case for a little bit, and that meant that she was obsessing about her proposal. If she didn’t get it out soon, she was going to burst. Nodding to her reflection, she took a deep breath. “Wish me luck, guys!”

  After hitting up a pizza joint on the way, Olivia headed to Andrew’s office. The ring felt like it was burning a hole in her pocket. Balancing the Jasper's Pizza box on her hip, Olivia stopped at Cora's desk before walking in to see Andrew. "Hey, Cora," she whispered. "He's still in the office?"

  The secretary gave her an amused look. "He can't hear you, Olivia," she chuckled. "And yes. He asked me to order food—which I did not, after you called me. You have him all to yourself."

  "Good. This is Jasper's Pizza." Olivia glanced at the box anxiously. "It was our fourth date. I tried to cook for him, and I failed miserably. We ordered pizza, and he told me
that he really liked me. Even though I'd burned dinner. Even though my dog had stolen half the pizza. He told me that he'd spent all day thinking about the date, and all he cared about was spending time with me."

  "Aw." A large smile split Cora's face. "That's so sweet. You guys are like the perfect couple. And it's so nice to know that you two can go through what you've been through and still be okay. It's that kind of conflict that really bonds two people."

  "I hope so. Thanks for your help, Cora."

  Strolling to Andrew's office, Olivia knocked tentatively.

  "Come in," she heard Andrew say in his most absent tone. He didn't even look up when she walked in. "Thanks for the lunch, Cora."

  "I brought lunch, but I'm not Cora," Olivia said cheerfully. Andrew looked up, and for a moment, Olivia's heart skipped a beat. There was nothing but love in his face, and she didn't think she'd ever get tired of seeing it. "Hungry?"

  "Starving.” He smiled and stretched. “You brought me pizza." Rising, he walked over and kissed her slowly. "And—even better—you brought me you."

  "Stow your thoughts of hanky-panky," Olivia laughed. "I'm just here to feed you. And read to you."

  "Read to me?" Snaking the box from her, he set it on the desk and opened it, making a show of closing his eyes to inhale the fragrance that arose, a sort of meaty, cheesy, ooey-gooey goodness with hints of tomato and Italian spices. “Ah,” he said. “That never gets old.” Winking at Olivia, he grabbed a slice. "Mystery or romance?"

  Olivia pulled out the newspaper. "A little bit of both." Clearing her throat, she started to read. "Dear L, if you really are thirty-two years old and referring to someone as a crush, then you're not emotionally ready or stable for a relationship. Go back to grade school, and don't bother dating until you can have a conversation without using juvenile slang."

  "Ouch." Andrew winced. He chewed his mouthful of pizza and swallowed before saying more. "I suppose that's one of Dear Ruby's greatest hits?"

  "Oh, it gets better." Olivia folded the paper and put it down on the desk, feature article facing up for convenient reading while freeing her hands for the serious business of pizza. Reaching over, she snagged a slice, nibbled at the end, and then continued reading, "Dear Mrs. Jones. If you wanted to remain anonymous, then you shouldn't have used your real name. Also, your husband is cheating on you. The whole town knows. Face the music."

  Andrew groaned. "Did she ever give any good advice?" He took another slice.

  "Of the twenty letters that were published in this edition, only one of them actually had any kind of heart to it." Licking her fingers, Olivia took a deep breath. "Dear K.S. It's obvious that you take your marriage vows seriously, and your husband has taken them to heart as well. Your husband was there for you during your darkest hour, and it sounds like you two just need to find a new path now that you can see the light. I'm so pleased that you're in remission, and I know that your husband feels the same way. The future might not seem certain, and you two may struggle, but I think that if you two talk to each other, you'll work it out and be just fine."

  "Wow," Andrew said through a mouth full of pizza. "When was that?"

  Olivia checked the date. "Eight years ago. The woman wrote in saying that for two years, from the time she was stricken with cancer, her husband never left her side, but now that she was in remission, they were fighting constantly."

  "Why would she be different with that letter?"

  "I had a hunch and asked Nick to pull her medical records. It would appear that ‘Dear Ruby’ was married. A year into that marriage, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and after the surgery, her husband divorced her. He couldn't hack it."

  "Oh, man. No wonder she was so cynical."

  "Yeah. She moved to Lexingburg not long after that. I pulled a newspaper from her old city, and her advice there was heartfelt and good. After the move, her advice was basically a joke. Readers were drawn into the drama."

  "Is that going to help us solve the case?"

  "Maybe. I just couldn't quite figure out why Madeline would write romance advice if she wasn't a romantic. These types of columns are meant to bring people together, but she just put a wedge in relationships." Olivia shook her head. "But to read some of her old things? They were romantic and sweet. It's hard to believe that it's the same woman."

  "People change," Andrew said softly. Olivia stared at him for a moment as the butterflies began to dance in her stomach. He was right. People did change.

  She certainly had.

  "So I actually had an ulterior motive for seeing you for lunch. I wanted to talk about dinner."

  "Thinking about dinner while you're eating lunch?" Andrew chuckled. "As it so happens, I was thinking about dinner, as well. I was going to make us reservations for BookEnds in Lowell."

  BookEnds? That was a high-end restaurant. Expensive. Romantic. The perfect place for a proposal, but it would be all wrong for what Olivia had in mind. "Actually, I'm making the plans for tonight," she said. Leaning over, she kissed him. "Will you be home by seven?"

  "Yes," he said slowly. "Will you tell me where we're going?"

  "No. It's a surprise." Snagging another slice of pizza, she stood. "See you tonight. I'll be crushing on you until then."

  Andrew chuckled. "I know at least one advice columnist who wouldn't like that very much."

  "Then I guess it's a good thing I never wrote to her." With a wink, Olivia took her pizza to go. The whole time, she had been feeling the ring in the wallet in her back pocket. If she played her cards right, tonight would be the night.

  "You turned down a fantastic steak dinner for fish and chips at Flannigan's?" Andrew laughed as they walked into the dive bar. The floor was sticky under Olivia's feet, and the Irish music was loud and raucous.

  "I had a craving," Olivia laughed as she hopped up to the high-top table. She'd orchestrated so that it was the very same table where they had sat the last time they were there. It had been a couple of years ago, but the night had been memorable. "You used to love this place!"

  Andrew wrinkled his nose. "No, you used to love this place. The last time I was here, I was sick for two days afterward."

  Olivia’s heart sank. That was right. How could she have forgotten about that?

  She immediately thought about the ring tucked away in the zipper pocket of her wallet. Ever since she'd bought the thing, she'd been terrified of losing it. The faster she got it onto Andrew's finger, the better.

  Food poisoning or not, Olivia was popping the question.

  "If I recall correctly, I told you to get fish and chips, and you went with a salad. Maybe tonight, you'll take my recommendation," Olivia said, trying to keep her tone light.

  Chuckling, Andrew opened his menu and shook his head. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll just stick with the beer."

  After the waitress stopped by and took their orders, Olivia took a deep breath and reached for her wallet—but then she paused. Men usually waited until after the meal, right? Was that what she should do? Or should she just do it now and get it over with?

  She was too nervous. She needed to do it now, or she would probably just blurt it out in the middle of the meal and ruin the whole thing.

  She grabbed her wallet and pulled it out, fingering the zipper as she began to speak. "Andrew, do you remember what happened the last time that we were here? Other than the food poisoning, I mean."

  "I didn't think that you'd want to remember," Andrew said softly.

  "What?" Clutching the wallet, she froze and swallowed hard. "Why wouldn't I want to remember it? I mean, I know that we were starting over, but I didn't think that we'd started over over, you know?"

  He knitted his forehead in puzzlement. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, but I'm talking about how you spilled your beer all over yourself, jumped up, and knocked into the waitress—who then spilled an entire tray of liquor on you. You went home smelling like a bar."

  As he laughed at the memory, Olivia breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. It stung a litt
le that he didn't seem to remember the part about telling her that he loved her, but at least he wasn't trying to avoid the memory of their dinner that night. She was about to plunge ahead and remind him when the waitress returned with their beer.

  Andrew picked up his glass, took an appreciative sip, thanked the waitress, and waited for her to turn around and walk away before saying, "So, after you left my office, I scanned the newspaper. You were right. Dear Ruby was a piece of work, but one letter stood out." He pulled out his wallet, extracted a clipping, and slid it across the table.

  She was a little disheartened that he wanted to talk about the case, but she reached out and grabbed the piece of paper. "Dear Ruby," she read aloud. "I married my husband ten years ago. It was love at first sight, and I gave up a lot for him. An education at an Ivy League school and my dreams of pursuing a career in medicine. I supported him as he followed his dreams, and now he's a successful lawyer in a prestigious firm. Now I have a chance to pursue my dreams. Should I tell him?"

  Olivia looked up with a frown. "Of course she should tell him. You're supposed to support each other's dreams in a marriage. She did her part. Now it's time for him to do his!"

  "Dear Ruby said the same thing," Andrew said with a chuckle. "Although she didn't put it so nicely. The thing is, the writer did that exactly, and she ended up losing everything. Her husband. Her job. It took her two years to get back on her feet again."

  Scanning the article, Olivia was horrified. Dear Ruby had basically told the writer that she was a spineless waif, and she probably didn't deserve to achieve her dreams. "A little harsh," she murmured. "Wait a minute, how do you know this? The writer is anonymous."

  "Because the writer works here in the hospital. Her name is Melissa Benoit, and she works as a victims’ counselor at the hospital. She talks openly about her past. Her ex-husband is James Benoit. He's a junior partner at Blane and Harris Law firm. She worked as a secretary in the firm and helped support him through law school, and he used those connections to get the job. Once he’d landed a good position, she told him that she wanted to go back to school. He told her that it was more important for them to focus on his career—and then, when he made junior partner later that year, he filed for divorce. He told her that he couldn't be married to someone who didn't have any dreams."