by Patti Larsen
Just yucksky. And, hang on a second. Daisy’s reaction this morning to her criticism of Robert… had she known Rose and my cousin were dating? Why wouldn’t she tell me? Whatever her reason, Daisy didn’t owe me an explanation, I guess. But it certainly went a long way to turn Rose over from frenemy to just plain nope. Not trusting her was pretty much exactly par for this particularly hideous course, thanks. Girl had zero personality, lacked in ambition and, obviously, had no idea what taste actually was.
“Looks like they’re ready, Sheriff.” Rose’s voice carried from the dock below, the floating decking wobbling under her feet as the last of the passengers boarded the two canoes without dumping themselves or their craft into the water. Her narrow gaze met mine, her giggle grating over my nerves about as much as that title did. We’d just see how much she liked her Robert-snookums when Crew came back.
I was about to loudly and firmly correct her on her use of the term—was I the only one in town willing to defend our actual sheriff’s honor or what?—and likely embarrass myself and start a fight I knew better than to set off when stomping footfalls caught my attention and turned me around. Just in time to avoid being shoved out of the way, though from the grim expression on the woman’s plain and angry face I wasn’t her target, just in her path and she wasn’t letting anything get between her and her goal. I followed her trajectory with my gaze and understood about ten seconds before she reached our mayor that it was Olivia Walker who was about to bear the brunt of the furious woman’s temper.
Shame on me. I didn’t defend Olivia, did I? Where was my loyalty now? Well, considering the mayor was here to defend herself… sure, Fee. Sure.
I was so transparent I could see through myself.
“This is outrageous!” The woman came to an abrupt halt, one hand swinging upward, finger shaking in Olivia’s face. “You’re having a party. A party! All of Reading is celebrating your stupid plans, aren’t they? Meanwhile, those of us suffering from your lack of care about our town’s wellbeing are kicked to the curb, right, Olivia?”
***
Chapter Seven
I eased a few steps closer, nearing the stairs to the lower deck where even normally clueless Robert turned his head to look up at the woman’s attack on our mayor, a frown on his face. I paused to listen, Petunia firmly at my side, panting as she sat on my foot and waited my curiosity out, like always.
“This is neither the time nor the place for a discussion of this nature, Wanda,” Olivia said, her best politician’s tone doing nothing to shut the woman down.
“I warned you,” her confronter snarled. “I said there’d be casualties in your little agenda. My fishing business is one of them. But do you or the council or this pathetic excuse for a yacht club care one scrap about a small business you’re supposed to be helping?” She spun, her wide shoulders and barrel chest more masculine than feminine inside her khaki shirt and baggy pants, lined face and dark blonde hair laced with gray in a tight ponytail down her back. Everything about her screamed no-nonsense, including the precisely stitched “Beaman’s Fishing” that spanned over her shoulders. “No, you don’t. You’re celebrating while I’m losing business thanks to the yahoos in this club who dump their waste and their fuel into our lake and kill my fish!”
That wasn’t good. If the status quo old boy’s club that ran the marina weren’t toeing the line that had the rest of us run off our feet…? While I was all for everyone benefiting from Reading’s boom in tourism, if some of our residents were knowingly damaging our natural beauty, something had to be done. After all, what else really was Reading’s claim to fame without the gorgeous views, the lake and our mountains?
Robert was striding past me before I could stop him, though I don’t know if I would have, given the choice. In fact, instead of getting into the fray, I got out of the way while my idiot cousin tried to throw his nonexistent weight around, descending the steps to the lower deck, Petunia huffing beside me.
To my disappointment, Rose closed the gap between us and, with her hands on her chest and her breath—I kid you not—bated in anticipation, we stood together and watched Robert try to do what would have taken Crew five seconds, hands down.
“Threatening our mayor will get you arrested,” he said, taking exactly the wrong tact against the aggressive and clearly furious woman. I glanced back and forth between Robert—scrawny but for his pot belly and clearly out of shape compared to Wanda who looked like she could lift the front end of a pickup truck with one hand—and anticipated him flying over my head and into the water. The quiet that had fallen over the two canoes told me everyone was watching, waiting to see what would happen.
Was it wrong I hoped she’d land him on his ass and maybe break something he valued in the process?
“Back off, poser boy,” Wanda snarled at him, barely glancing his way. “This is between me and Olivia.”
The mayor looked briefly concerned but quickly covered, her fake smile pulling at her lips, her eyes flickering to me with a kind of hopeful question that made me freeze in place and swallow hard. Why was she looking at me like that?
“Let’s go inside, shall we?” Olivia gestured toward the yacht club entry while the gathered crowd’s tension did nothing to make me feel better.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Wanda snapped. “You’re not brushing this under the rug. I want my problem solved, Olivia, and I won’t take garbage talk for an answer ever again.”
If anything, I knew a blowup was pending. Mom looked startled, even stunned, and would be no help. And Doreen just stood there, one hand over her mouth. As for Robert, he had a hand on his gun, started to reach out to grab Wanda by the arm. Seriously? Did he have a death wish? I grunted to myself and, to my shock, heard myself speak up.
“I’d like to hear what she has to say.” And, just like that I was the center of attention. Yay, me.
My interruption did the trick, though. Wanda spun toward me, brown eyes meeting mine and, as if for the first time, she seemed to realize there was a huge crowd staring at her waiting to see what she’d do. Olivia’s quick frown at me disappeared as fast as it came while I shrugged at her and waited for Wanda to speak.
It seemed my willingness to hear her out was all Wanda needed for validation and to shut her down. Instead of launching into a tirade publically, she grunted at Olivia and headed for the yacht club door, the mayor trailing after her, Geoffrey following with a sly grin on his face. I let them go, raising my eyebrows at Olivia on her way by. She could be pissed at me if she wanted, but I got the job done without my ridiculous cousin shooting anyone, or himself, so it was a win, right?
Right?
“You know,” Rose said, startling me, speaking up reminding me she was there at all, something I’d forgotten in the heat of the moment, “you really need to learn to mind your own business, Fiona Fleming.” And then she sniffed at me.
Sniffed. At. Me.
I pushed her. Watched her topple into the water, laughed with my hands on my hips as she spluttered and screamed for Robert-snookums to pull her out—
The vision that flashed in my head was so real I had to blink to snap myself free of it, about half a heartbeat from actually shoving the arrogant little snot as my furious brain told me I already had. Robert saved her, huffing his way down the steps and joining us, confronting me with his mustache bristling, hand still on his gun, the doofus.
“Mind telling me what that was?” He sounded pathetic so I didn’t answer, tugging my pug, looking for a way around him and Rose to the steps so I could just get out of there before I did something I’d regret. Like push both of them. Yup.
“Excuse me.” It rankled to even have to ask with that measure of not really politeness.
Neither of them moved, Robert leaning forward and getting in my face, Petunia softly growling at my side, something she never did. But she must have sensed his animosity, because I could feel the rumble of her discontent through our contact, where her warm, furry butt perched on my foot. Well, we were of
the same mind there, weren’t we?
“No one asked you, Fanny,” he snarled, poking me in the chest with one index finger. Oh my god, he actually touched me. The pit of my stomach tightened in a rush of rage that he seemed really good at triggering despite my resolve otherwise. “You might get away with butting in when Crew is sheriff, but this is my town. My rules.” He jabbed me again. “And you keep your mouth shut, you hear?”
I have no idea what I would have done next. Likely something that would have gotten me arrested. I know I was furious enough, in a red-hot rage so deep I don’t think I would have regretted a single moment, not even when they took me away and put me in prison for murdering him. Nope, would have laughed. Out loud.
Instead of being arrested, though, instead of having the chance to do something my extended family, at least, would regret, I was stopped by an unexpected interruption. That of my normally mild-mannered and contented pug, she of the quiet happiness and eager tummy, who loved everyone and never, ever took sides where the chance for food of any kind was involved—and, as far as she was concerned, food was always a possibility.
But, whatever triggered her unhappiness in that moment, she took it and ran with it, literally. With a deep growl and the kind of yipping bark that she reserved for squirrels who tortured her from behind windows, she stood up, fur bristling, and challenged Robert to say that to me again.
Shocked by her defense of my person, I looked down at her, hand slack on the leash, just as Robert grunted and his foot lashed out, impacting her firmly in the chest. Sending my pug, her narrowed eyes now gaping wide, her comical face shocked if possible for a dog in transit, over the edge of the decking and into the water.
Where, thanks to her dense and ungraceful nature, she promptly sank like a stone.
***
Chapter Eight
There was no thought, no inhale, nothing but panic and instinct. I dove into the water after Petunia, hands grasping desperately for the disappearing leash end that trailed away from me far too quickly. The water wasn’t that deep, but it was deep enough and dark, the inkiness of it engulfing me as I propelled myself beneath the cold surface of the lake after my pug’s plummeting form.
Time stood still, my chest aching from the lack of breath I’d failed to take, my eyes stinging from something tainting the water, heart pounding doing nothing to help me conserve the little oxygen I had in my lungs, in my system, to sustain me for the dive.
She hit the bottom before I ran out of air, a puff of dirt rising under her butt, the impact pushing her up toward me again and just within reach. I grasped for her harness, caught it and the end of her corkscrew tail, jerking firmly on both and hauling her up toward the light and the surface there. My eyes skimmed over something, a large rock embedded next to the dock, a strange dark symbol etched in the surface trying to distract me. But Petunia twitched in my arms, drawing my desperate panic back to her, the whites of her eyes glistening as she sagged against me.
And then I was on the surface, coughing, gagging on lake water, hands reaching out for me, many more than I expected, pulling me onto the decking and relieving me of Petunia. One of the costumed canoers laid her out, hands pressing firmly on her ribs, steady and kind as he massaged her torso with the kind of reassuring confidence that told me he knew what he was doing. Though he might look ridiculous in his clown attire and fuzzy red nose and wig, it was pretty clear he’d handled a drowning victim—maybe even a drowning dog—before.
She coughed softly, choking up water, yipping a little before righting herself and shaking firmly, moisture spraying everywhere. The cheer from the watching crowd made me sob once in relief, Petunia hobbling to me and landing in my lap, panting as she laid her heavy head on my leg and groaned.
“Robert Andrew Carlisle.” I knew Mom’s voice anywhere. Looked up, dazed and recovering from the adrenaline rush to find her shaking her fist at my cousin. He actually looked contrite while everyone glared like they knew just what he’d done. “What is the matter with you? How dare you do such a horrible thing?”
“It was an accident.” Yeah, like anyone was going to buy that.
“I saw it happen,” Rose spoke up instantly. “It was. The dog got in his way. He didn’t mean it.”
That was it. Daisy’s step-sister or not, she was dead to me.
The clown who’d performed CPR on Petunia pulled his nose free and bobbed me a nod. “She should be okay, Fee.” I finally recognized him past the white makeup and the wig. Dr. Fred Miller hadn’t been our local vet for long, but I was definitely grateful he was there. “But bring her in Monday morning just in case and I’ll give her a checkup, okay?”
I nodded in gratitude, squeezing his hand and letting him go before trying to stand up. Meanwhile, the crowd was dispersing, though Mom wasn’t done with Robert by a long shot.
“You just wait until I talk to your mother,” she said. Robert winced. I wasn’t a huge fan of Aunt Doris thanks to her favoritism of her wretched son. And it wasn’t like his mom really cared about me at all. “When she finds out you did such a despicable thing to her mother’s dog, she’ll have your liver on a plate.” Oh, right. Grandmother Iris. Petunia had been hers. Well then. Maybe I was Aunt Doris’s fan after all.
Robert and Rose hurried off then, before I could recover enough to say anything or confront him. Honestly, I wasn’t in the mood. I just wanted to get my dog home and pamper her and stuff her full of her favorite foods until she couldn’t eat another scrap. She seemed listless, but eager to keep up as always, so I let Robert go and focused on her.
I’d find a way to deal with him later.
Mom hugged me, Doreen joining me, while Robert and Rose got back to starting the canoe race. I carried Petunia up the steps to the main dock and set her down, feeling her wriggle in response, knowing she was going to be okay but hugging her an extra moment anyway. Tears burned behind my eyes, my heart pounding. I could have lost her. She could have drowned and it would be my fault for not keeping my mouth shut.
From the way Mom glared at me she knew what I was thinking and when she spoke I discovered I was right.
“Don’t you dare,” she said. “He’s an ass and he’ll pay for that.” She hugged me, trembling just slightly, enough I knew she was as worried as she was angry. When she let me go, Mom bent and stroked Petunia’s head. The pug let out a happy groan and leaned into her hand when my mother scratched her ear.
“I need to get her home.” I looked down at my soggy clothes, just grateful I’d left my wallet and phone in the car. Sucked I’d have to soak my seats on the drive, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I wasn’t driving home in my underwear.
Doreen joined us, looking horrified, tsking over the state of my clothes. “I have a t-shirt and shorts you can wear, Fee,” she said.
That was a huge relief. I smiled my gratitude at her but waved her off when she moved to lead me inside. “Just tell me where,” I said, handing Petunia’s leash to Mom.
“Same linen closet as the tablecloths,” Doreen said. “You can change in the locker room at the end of the hall.”
I headed inside before I could change my mind and go back for my pug. The urge to hug her and never let her go ever again was as powerful a feeling as anything I’d ever dealt with and I suddenly wished Crew was there. Weird. I didn’t need a man to protect me or keep me safe or anything. I was perfectly fine, thank you. But now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I could have used a little tall, dark and handsome to lean on just for a moment so I could cry my eyes out in a safe place.
But he wasn’t here and I was on my own. Okay then. Big girl panties, Fee. Or yacht club t-shirt and baggy shorts. I entered the back hall, turning the corner and getting the third shock of the day, almost enough to send me to the floor as the last bit of adrenaline I possessed surged up and smacked me in the face.
But instead of a threat, I came face-to-face with Heather Parborough. The attractive brunette gasped at the sight of me, hastily closing Lester’s office door
behind her, looking guilty enough I knew she wasn’t supposed to be here. Yes, she was a rep for one of the boat companies who hung around the club offering deals on new products all summer, but the likelihood Lester allowed her into his office on her own seemed slim.
“Hey, Heather,” I said. She was a regular at Petunia’s, staying with me right now, in fact, and I felt comfortable enough to address her with the familiarity of a sort-of friend.
“Fee!” Her guilt turned to surprise at the state of me. “Swimming? In the harbor?” Her nose wrinkled, faint smile lifting her lips. Was that a sheen of sweat on her brow? What was she up to? I liked Heather, had coffee with her a few times over the course of the last two summers. She was quiet but knowledgeable about the boats she sold, kept to herself, seemed competent and nice enough. I hated to think she was up to no good.
I winced at my wet clothes, pretended I didn’t wonder what she’d been up to because it really wasn’t any of my business. “Petunia took a tumble,” I said. “Just need to change.”
She shook her head, looking distressed. “I hope she’s okay?”
I nodded, noted Heather’s clenched hands at her sides, the way she didn’t quite keep eye contact, glancing over my shoulder and out toward the front entry of the club. “She’ll be fine,” I said. Waited. If Dad taught me anything, it was that silence had a power to it that the guilty couldn’t bear.
But rather than blurt out what she’d been doing in Lester’s office, Heather just forced a smile. “Good to hear. See you, Fee.” She turned and strode off in the opposite direction, toward the back of the building and the rear exit. I let her go, dripping on the carpet while my overactive mind begged me to investigate.
Silly brain. Investigate what? I shook my head like rattling my mind inside my skull might shut it up for once and moved on. Honestly, I wasn’t in much of a mood for curiosity and nosiness be damned. Instead, I headed for the closet, clothes and the chance to go home and forget Petunia’s near death ever happened.
