A Wedding Tail

by Casey Griffin

  Something rolled across Zoe’s foot. She looked down to find Marilyn’s blue dachshund, Picasso, rolling around in his wheelchair. While he suffered from a severe case of intervertebral disc disease, the little doggy wheelchair helped him to get around pain free.

  She bent down and gave him a scratch under his collar where he liked it. “Hi there, Picasso. How’s it rolling?”

  She noticed Piper share a glance with Addison. It didn’t seem like her friends were going to drop the subject that easily, especially since she’d filled them in on everything the night before, including Piper’s poor Marchesa dress.

  “I figured with everything going on, you might skip today,” Piper said. “Not that we don’t want the help,” she added hastily. “But we can manage without you if you need the day off.”

  “You mean because someone wants to kill me?” She waved a hand like no big deal, then she caught herself because it reminded her of Levi. “There’s not much I can do until the police are done with their investigation. Right now they have no idea who cut my brake lines, so it’s not like I can protect myself from everyone and anyone.”

  “What about your mom?” she asked.

  “I already visited her this morning. She doesn’t get released until after the weekend. And since I’m no longer in the expo, I had some spare time.”

  Piper frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want the day off? You know, to relax? De-stress?”

  Zoe groaned inwardly. If only she could relieve some stress. “I’m sure.” She signed into the logbook as though that settled it.

  Checking the chore list, she scanned it until she found something that hadn’t already been done. Seeing the fish hadn’t been fed yet, she ticked it off and grabbed the food. It was easier for her to do since she was the tallest of the bunch and the aquarium took up practically the entire wall behind the reception desk.

  When she turned around, she could have sworn everyone was trying really hard not to look at one another.

  “The girls told me about what happened with that woman yesterday,” Marilyn said as she wiped down the counter. “Sounds like your ex has his hands full with that trollop. And in my opinion, your ex deserves what he gets.”

  “Marilyn, I’m shocked,” Zoe teased the British woman, which she often did for her culturally quaint word choices. “Such language.”

  “Well,” she sniffed, “no one hurts my girls. And if that woman was able to get a rise out of my Zoe and cause all that trouble, then she must be a real piece of work.”

  “Exactly,” Addison agreed. “You’re the coolest cucumber I know. What did she do to piss you off so badly?”

  Zoe stood in front of the aquarium to watch the exotic fish dart around the tank like someone had dropped a box of colorful confetti in there. “I don’t know. I guess, she just hit the right buttons and I saw red.” She snorted. “Or rather, pink champagne cake.”

  “Well, it’s understandable,” Marilyn said. “I’m sure it hurt to find out she’s marrying Sean.”

  “That’s not it. I don’t miss him or anything.” She laughed extra hard like that proved how ridiculous the idea was. “I’m not jealous, if that’s what you mean.”

  Finished with the floor, Addison plopped the mop back into the bucket. “You may not miss him, but maybe you miss”—she hesitated, searching for the word—“it.”

  “‘It?’” Zoe arched a suggestive eyebrow. “Oh, I get plenty of it by myself.”

  Addison threw her a sour look. “Not pleasure. Love. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a boyfriend.”

  Piper frowned. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever met any of the men in your life.”

  That’s because there’s never been any, she thought. But she kept that to herself.

  It wasn’t like she was lying to her friends. She was just keeping information from them. Information that, if they knew, they wouldn’t drop it until they “fixed” her. Like they knew what she needed. What Zoe needed was to be left alone. Besides, she already got enough lectures from her mother.

  “It doesn’t mean that I’m missing something just because I don’t have a serious man in my life right now.” Or ever.

  Piper clicked her tongue and set the piebald doxie down. His toenails clicked on the floor as he explored the room. She sat down on the edge of the settee next to the fireplace, as though settling in for a good, long talk.

  “You know what we mean,” she said.

  “We?” Zoe’s eyes flitted around the room and she realized all her friends had stopped working, their focus on her. What is this? Some kind of romance intervention? She crossed her arms. “No I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Zoe how can you not be lonely for companionship?” Piper asked her. “For something more?”

  “Because I have everything I need. I have your friendships, my mother, my businesses, and a little relief from my silicone collection. Besides,”—she plucked the doxie off the ground, cradling it in her arms—“what better companionship can you get than from a loyal dog?”

  A dog would never leave you. They loved you unconditionally. Your love and affections were never wasted on them, never thrown away. It was always appreciated and returned with lots of kisses, cuddles, and tail wags.

  The doxie gave her a kiss as though proving her point. Nice to meet you, it seemed to say.

  Addison sat on one of the wingback chairs, joining the intervention. Naia automatically scrambled onto her lap, because apparently everyone was in on this.

  “But you don’t even have a dog,” Addison argued. “Not since Buddy passed away.”

  It was true. Ever since he’d died, it left a wiener-sized hole in Zoe’s life. She’d thought she’d move on by now. It’s not like she didn’t have an endless source of dogs to choose from at the center, but more than a year later, she was still returning to an empty home.

  “I’m getting there,” she said, finally. “I just haven’t found the right dog.”

  “And maybe you haven’t found the right man,” Marilyn said.

  Zoe laughed. “Isn’t that an oxymoron? Do those even exist?”

  But Piper wasn’t laughing. “Remember who you’re talking to. You don’t have to be Miss Always-In-Control with us.”

  “I’m acting in-control because I am in-control.” When they continued to give her a look, she relented. “I guess the news about Sean’s wedding kind of caught me off-guard. But I’m okay. It’s not about him,” she said.

  And it wasn’t. Maybe it wasn’t even about Chelsea. But her reaction had to do with someone. She just feared that the issue was more about herself than anyone else, that her bottle was getting too full to keep a lid on it.

  “Well, I appreciate you coming in, Zoe,” Marilyn said, thankfully changing the subject.

  She grabbed her purse from the closet and checked her graying hair in the antique mirror above the fireplace. “Now that you’re here, I might visit a couple of the usual kill centers to check for some guests.”

  Zoe knew that “guests” meant stray dogs, because the British manager liked to think of them only staying for a short period of time before finding a family. She also knew a trip to the other centers around the city meant Marilyn would be coming back with at least ten new guests.

  The centers tended to fill up fast, and abandoned pups didn’t do so well cooped up in a strange place. They would only be held so long before they were placed on the chopping block, and Marilyn just couldn’t walk away knowing that. Zoe smiled, putting it on her mental to-do list to make sure spare cages were ready to accommodate Marilyn’s outing.

  The intervention officially over, Piper got up from the settee. “We’re already dirty from chores, so Addy and I will go start baths.” She took the doxie from Zoe to carry him to the back. “Do you want to cover the desk?”

  “Sure thing,” Zoe said.

  For the next hour, she puttered around the house, picking away at the chore list. She was just doing inventory on the dog food when her cell phon
e rang. Craving a drama-free day, she was tempted to ignore it, but then she worried it had something to do with her mom, so she answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Zoe. It’s Amber.”

  The voice gave Zoe a mental jolt. Amber was a client. Her wedding was still four months away, but her voice was halting, like something was wrong. Zoe always made her brides a priority, even when it meant turning her back on her own problems.

  “Amber. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m okay,” she said, but it didn’t really sound like it.

  “You sound upset. What can I do for you?”

  “I just wanted to call to, well”—she hesitated—“to let you know that I’ve decided to go another way.”

  Zoe frowned. “What do you mean? Go where?”

  “I mean”—she took a breath—“I’ve signed with another wedding planner.”

  Zoe stared at the phone, checking the call display as though this must be a wrong number. Finally, she found her voice. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, no. You’ve been great. Perfect really. You’ve always been there for me,” she gushed. So then why was she firing her? “It’s just that our finances have kind of changed with Dean getting laid off and we’ve had to re-evaluate our budget.”

  “But you’re still going with a wedding planner? We can always take another look at cheaper flower options as well as combining the venue for both the service and reception to save some money.” She was already pulling her tablet out of her purse to open Amber’s file.

  “I’m sorry, but it just won’t be enough. Another planner contacted us and offered us a lower rate.”

  “By how much?” Her file was open and Zoe was already doing mental calculations to see how much of a discount she could give them to keep the contract. She’d already put so much time and effort into planning their wedding. To lose them now would be a huge hit.

  “Half.”

  Zoe nearly dropped her tablet. Her rates weren’t expensive by any means, but there was no way she could compete with that price. But who possibly could? Who would undercut her by that much?

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Zoe finally said. “Do you mind if I ask who you’ve signed with?”

  Amber kind of whimpered on the other end, and the line went quiet for a second. “Natalie.”

  Zoe gripped her phone until it squeaked under the pressure. But she’d let her emotions get the best of her enough lately, so she reached inside her purse, giving her Loyal Lion Fuzzy Friend a good pat, and said, “Well, I wish you and Dean all the best.”

  “Thanks, Zoe. Again, I’m so sorry.”

  Zoe ended the call and rubbed her temples. She put her phone back in her purse, automatically seeking the comforting touch of microfiber fur.

  So Natalie was coming out guns blazing. Of course she would offer introductory prices to build her client list and make a quick name for herself. And she was certainly doing that.

  The wedding circuit was a small world. Soon enough, word would get around about her cheeky tactics and sub-standard pricing. She wouldn’t make many friends that way, least of all Zoe.

  The front bell rang, interrupting her thoughts. Abandoning the inventory, she headed for the front desk. When she got there, a man was already waiting, tapping his fingers on the wood countertop as he looked around.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  He jumped, as though he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Yes. I spoke to a woman named Marilyn on the phone earlier. She’s expecting us.”

  “Us?” Zoe glanced behind the man, looking for the rest of his party.

  The man bent down, disappearing behind the tall reception desk. When he reappeared, it was with a wirehaired dachshund.

  He placed it on the counter in front of Zoe. What she’d mistaken as black and tan coloring turned out to be wild boar. He was a beautiful mix of brown and black, with a bit of gold highlighting over most of his body. Around his mouth, paws, and spots on his legs, however, tan hair grew, the color that, annoyingly, kind of reminded her of Levi.

  “Hello, there,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  “Freddy,” the man offered.

  “Hi, Freddy. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Two tan eyebrows above his chocolate eyes quirked up. He tilted his head to the side, as though trying to suss Zoe out. His oversized ears stuck out to the side quizzically as he padded a little closer and gave her hand a sniff.

  He was still a pup. By the disproportionate body, she figured he was less than a year old—not that one could ever accuse doxies of being proportionate with their stubby legs and stretched torsos. Which was why they were so damned cute.

  Once he finished sniffing her, he gave her a lick of acceptance before exploring the rest of the counter. She ran a hand over his coarse fur, just to keep a protective eye on him as he checked things out.

  “I’m sorry,” Zoe told the man, “but Marilyn just stepped out. Maybe I can help you.”

  “Oh, okay.” He frowned, glancing over his shoulder like he hoped Marilyn would come back soon. “Well, Freddy here will be staying with you for a while.”

  Not many people just waltzed in to show off their beloved dog and then bring them back home. They were a rescue center, after all. Zoe had assumed that’s what the man was there for—that would explain his guilty behavior—but his evasive words chafed at something inside of her.

  “You mean you’re giving him up,” she said, as though she were clarifying.

  “We’re not parting ways by choice,” he said. “I have to. I’m moving into an apartment that doesn’t allow pets.”

  “Of course.” Zoe nodded understandingly. “It wouldn’t be because Freddy’s moving into a place that doesn’t allow humans.”

  His forehead creased in confusion. “What?”

  “Never mind.” Zoe’s eyebrows drew together. She bit her lip to stop from saying more.

  This guy was acting as though the center was doggy daycare. A nice relaxing spa that Freddy could spend the weekend de-stressing in. The way he was avoiding the truth of what was really going on grated on Zoe, but it wasn’t her place.

  Any time she admitted new guests, she tried her best to think of Marilyn and how she would deal with it. Her manager always preached the importance of welcoming new guests warmly, and to not criticize their owner. Everyone had their reasons for giving up their pets, and maybe some of them were even good ones. She didn’t pretend to be the judge of what happened in other people’s lives.

  Maybe the guy had lost his job and he had to downsize. Maybe he was moving in with his girlfriend and she gave him an ultimatum—it was her or the dog. Maybe his kid was allergic to dogs.

  Focusing on the task rather than the person, she took out one of the record books and opened it to a new admission form.

  “Is there anything special about Freddy that we should know about?” she asked him, pen at the ready. “Has he had all his shots? Any health concerns?”

  “I already gave Marilyn all the information.” He jingled his keys impatiently, like he had things to do, or maybe the situation just made him uncomfortable. “He’s a good dog. A bit stubborn, maybe.”

  She snorted, flipping through the completed intake papers until she found the one Marilyn had prepared for Freddy. “He’s a dachshund. That’s to be expected.”

  “Right.” He chuckled uncomfortably. “Well … thanks. See you, buddy.” The man gave Freddy a scratch behind the ears before he turned and walked out the doors.

  Freddy whined a little as he watched his master leave. He shifted from paw to paw as though he wanted to follow him right off the countertop. Zoe picked him up before he got any funny ideas.

  When the door swung closed behind the man, the doxie squirmed in Zoe’s arms. She murmured soothing things to him, petting him slowly. He tilted his face up, giving her actual puppy-dog eyes. Dachshunds were fiercely loyal to their owners. It was just too bad some owners didn’t share the same trait.


  “How about we find you a treat. Do you want a treat?” Whether it was the excitement in her voice, or he understood the word “treat” well, his tail slapped against her side, beating to the rhythm of Justin Timberlake playing on the radio.

  She plied him with comfort treats as she entered Freddy’s information into the computer. Freddy was a healthy dog. His shots were up to date, he’d been tagged, and clearly groomed regularly. He was a great option for someone to adopt.

  Once she was done, she snapped a few photos of him to post on their website. Thanks to Holly Hart’s news segments about the center the year before, they’d gained a lot of local notoriety and support. Most of their guests found families through the center’s adoption page, which Zoe maintained and kept up to speed.

  While she worked, Freddy explored his new surroundings. He sniffed at the fireplace, tested the plush sitting room furniture, and even ventured a step or two upstairs.

  Zoe kept a close eye on him, but allowed him his freedom to check out the temporary digs. Most of the time, he seemed content to sit by Zoe’s feet, staring up at the massive fish tank, big brown eyes following the tropical fishs’ path back and forth. Even when she went to the kitchen to make some tea, he shadowed her.

  Grabbing her steaming mug, she stepped out onto the farmhouse’s wraparound porch. The property opened up into a beautiful sanctuary in the city. Tall privacy tress surrounded the green space, muffling the sounds of the San Francisco traffic. It provided ample room for the guests to explore and play, coming and going freely from their kennels in a longhouse if they’d been cleared to play with others. It was like a horse barn but with little doggy doors to each kennel.

  Naia ran around in the middle of the enclosure, surrounded by a writhing mass of excited fur balls. She squealed as the dachshunds chased her until she threw a tennis ball. Their deep barks echoed across the yard as they raced for it, rolling in the grass as they fought.

  “Do you wanna go play?” she asked Freddy.

  He watched his group of peers romp, as though deliberating. After a moment, he huffed and walked over to join Zoe, his tail tucked between his legs.

  Some dogs took longer to warm up to the center. Then again, he’d just been abandoned by the man he trusted most in the world. She didn’t suppose that would instill a lot of confidence, either.