by Susan Union
“Oh sure. She owns the restaurant on the beach. The Austrian girl. Goldshlager, or something like that.”
“Godenshamer.”
“What about her?”
“She’s dying to meet you. How long did you say you’re staying?”
CHAPTER TWO
“It’s tomato soup Tuesday.” Randi set a bowl of the stuff in front of her mother. “All I could find in the pantry.” She kept the on such short notice part to herself. Her mother wouldn’t get the humor.
Not only had there been no warning of her visit, when asked how long she was staying, her mother answered, “I don’t know, honey. Let’s see which way the wind blows.” Funny. Her mother was never a free spirit before. “Smells delicious.”
A white lie, for sure. Campbell’s soup and grilled American cheese on mush bread weren’t her mother’s style. She was more the French onion and Brie on a baguette type.
Randi opened a cupboard door. “I might have some dried basil for the soup. Fancy it up a bit.”
“Don’t bother.” Her mother closed her mouth around the sandwich. “I’m famished.”
She ate with such gusto even Shane sat up from his dog bed and took notice. Jojo, after a repast of mail-order kibble topped with nonfat cottage cheese, served in a delicate ceramic bowl with her name painted on the side, napped on her leopard-skin throw and didn’t seem to care what else was going on.
Her mother kept up a monologue between bites of toasted sandwich and slurps of soup. Jojo this, Jojo that. Weave poles, A-frames, tunnels, recalls, blah, blah, blah. Randi puttered around the kitchen, only half-listening when really, she conceded she should’ve been grateful. Dog-speak is a far cry better than hearing her yap about me finding a man.
Her mother practically licked the bowl clean and put down her spoon. “When do we get to see Luke?”
“I’m not sure.” Randi collected the dishes and blasted the water in the sink. Particles of food went flying.
Her mother pushed back her chair. “Tomorrow, maybe? Before the agility trial?”
“Not unless there’s a reason.”
“You need to be more proactive, hon. It’s okay for women to do that these days. Want some help?”
She shut off the water. “No, Mom. I’m perfectly capable of running my own love life, or lack thereof—whatever it is—all by myself.”
“I meant with the dishes, and you don’t have to snap at me.” With a shake of her head her mother stalked off to fuss with Jojo, leaving Randi to stew in her own guilt.
Later, they managed to get ready for bed in the same bathroom with a minimum of elbow and hip bumping. Randi’s irritation with her mother lessened a bit when she didn’t complain about the toothpaste tube being squeezed from the middle, the ratty condition of the bath towels or about the dog hair randomly stuck to the countertop.
Who was this woman and what had she done with Lee Ann Sterling?
****
Just after sunrise, the four of them, Randi, her mother, Jojo, and Shane, piled into the truck. Destination: Seaside Fairgrounds, site of Gina’s dog agility trial. Jojo sat buckled into a doggie seat belt harness contraption that had taken a good ten minutes to install in Shane’s customary shotgun seat.
Her mother had insisted. “Have to do it. If we were in an accident, Jojo would fly right through the windshield.”
Best to leave that one alone.
Jojo’s tail had plumed white hair combed with streaks of chocolate brown, like it belonged on a saloon-girl’s headpiece instead of the bottom end of a dog. A wide strip of white ran between her ears down her dainty black nose and around her mouth, giving her a loopy grin. She panted without making a sound, tiny tongue sliding over snowy teeth. If Jojo were a human, she would have been high school prom queen, head cheerleader and voted girl with the best sense of humor.
Randi’s wheels hugged the edge of the driveway she shared with Luke Andersen, her landlord and boss. Luke lived in a 10,000-square-foot mansion—actually on the small side for most of the homes in Rancho del Zorro; and she rented the guesthouse at the bottom of his three-acre lot. If he happened to glance out his kitchen window to find her chauffeuring a buckled up froufrou dog, while her mother and Shane sat in the back seat, she’d never hear the end of it. Luke was passionate about all animals, but he’d still laugh his ass off.
Shane planted his nose between his paws and refused to lift his head, even when Randi lowered the rear windows for fresh air to stream inside. What red-blooded American dog wouldn’t poke his nose out a half-open truck window?
She gave him a, don’t be so prissy, glare in the rearview.
Her mother eyeballed her seatmate with distrust. “Has he always looked so much like a wolf?”
“Don’t worry. He looks tough, but he’s a big pussycat. Only domesticated shepherd and husky blood. No wolf.”
Her mother reached over and gave Shane’s head a tentative pat. He flicked an ear. That was all she got. Her mother twisted and faced the window. “I can’t wait to see Gina run her dog. They’re such an awesome pair. You won’t believe them. They make it look so easy.”
Randi turned onto the main road and headed west toward the freeway. “Why is this trial so important again?”
“One spot left to make the U.S. team and compete in the World Agility Championships. Gina is vying for it, and so is my dog trainer.”
“Really? You have a conflict of interest?”
“Not a chance. Making it on the world team has been Gina’s dream since she quit the modeling biz. My loyalty lies with her. We’ve known each other forever, you know.”
“I was there for lots of it. I remember you two always laughing about something.”
“Over coffee or martinis, depending on the time of day, but Gina’s life was always more exciting than mine. Drugs, men, sex. She was traveling the world on model shoots while I was stuck pushing you on the playground swing.”
Randi lifted her sunglasses on top of her head. “Thanks a lot.”
“Oh, honey, don’t be so sensitive. You know what I mean.”
Right. Despite the obvious, she was rarely envious of her mother’s attention toward Gina. Gina had never treated Randi like a child to be shelved during adult time but as an equal, privy to grown-up thoughts and actions. Her visits probably gave Randi as much of a thrill as they gave her mother.
Shane let out a sigh so loud it had to be meant for Randi’s ears, and Jojo yapped at nothing. Luckily it wasn’t long before Randi pulled into the fairgrounds. Is this gonna be the seating arrangement everywhere we go? Me and Jojo up front, Mom and Shane in the back? Randi braked to a stop at the entrance and handed the parking guy a five. Jojo barked again. Shane growled. Randi rolled up the window and twisted in her seat. “We could have left the dogs at home, you know.”
Her mother shook her head. “Jojo’s trainer says she needs to go to trials and get acclimated. She’s got to soak up the atmosphere to get her ready for competition.”
“A dress rehearsal?”
“Exactly. Gina wants to see her too. It’s been a while since she was a pup, and Gina’s her second mom.” Her mother grabbed the back of the seat and pulled herself forward. “Know where the name papillon came from?”
“No.” The F150 rolled slowly down the rows of cars. “You see any parking spots?”
“It’s French for butterfly. Two reasons: The shape of her ears and the white blaze they all have.”
“Hmm.” No open spaces anywhere.
“Maybe you can use that tidbit in one of your articles.”
“Yeah, maybe so.”
“There’s a spot.” Her mother tapped the glass. “See it? Next to the red Toyota.”
“Got it.” She cranked the wheel. “Thanks, Mom. You just earned your keep.”
With Jojo unencumbered from her harness contraption and cradled in her mother’s arms and Shane on his leash, they fell in with the crowd moving as one toward the arena. The parking lot was huge and the towering grandstand visible in th
e distance. To the right were the stables. Empty now, but they’d be full come July and the summer race meet. That was Randi’s favorite time of year. It kept her and Luke plenty busy. As his only vet-tech, she put in lots of overtime when the thoroughbreds were in town.
Shane held his tail stiff. The dog could hold a grudge.
Women bustled around in T-shirts or polos, jeans or khaki shorts, and running shoes, hair shoulder length in a uniform shade of grey-blonde-brown. The men wore basically the same uniform, only with baseball caps on top. A fair amount of both sexes had neoprene braces wrapped around their knees.
The dogs, at least one per person, came in a variety of shapes, colors, and sizes. Golden retrievers, shelties, ivory Samoyeds, pepper-colored Cairn terriers, spotted Jack Russells, multi-hued cattle dogs and Australian shepherds, sleek Dobermans, black and white Border collies. Collectively, the dogs made so much noise Jojo’s yapping was only a tiny part of the ruckus.
Randi lifted her nose. Fried food and dog urine hung in the air. An interesting mix of delectable and disgusting. “It’s a weekday. Don’t these people have jobs?”
Her mother chuckled. “Most work at least part-time to fund their addiction. The fortunate ones are retired and travel the country in buses or motorhomes, going from one trial to the next.”
“Must be nice.”
“Maybe someday we can join those folks. Tour around. Me and Jojo and you and Shane.”
“Sure.” How long before somebody killed someone?
Jojo crossed in front of Shane, causing him to stumble. The hair on his topline rose. He growled at Jojo. Wouldn’t take long.
“Where do we find Gina? And what’s her dog’s name? Scoot?”
“Zoom. Agility names are short and sweet. No time when you’re running on course to call out Princess Leah or Miss Fluffy Muffin Top.”
“Cute, Mom. I can’t remember the last time I saw Gina. I think I was in high school.”
“Yep, she’d just returned from a modeling shoot in Tahiti. The one where she got three marriage proposals.”
With Gina’s height, her long thick hair, perfect white teeth, and classic bone structure, a modeling company had discovered her at a shopping mall when she was just shy of fourteen.
“Where does she live now?”
“Oklahoma City.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess she likes it there.”
“I always pictured Gina retiring in Paris, drinking coffee on the Rive Gauche with a gaggle of Frenchmen hanging on her every word.”
“When you get older, hon, you want to settle down and be around family. Gina’s got a brother and sister-in-law in OKC.”
“Fifty’s hardly geriatric. Does Gina know we’re here?” Surprise visits had always been one of her mother’s favorite pastimes. “Did you tell her you were coming?”
“Of course not. You know me, but I don’t want us to be a distraction before her run, so we’ll stay hidden. Gina’ll be busy walking the course and sketching out her plan of attack in her head anyway. She’ll need to be focused.”
“When does she go?
“First class this morning. Why do you think I dragged you out of bed so early?
They pushed through the turnstile. The grandstand was still a ways off but at this point, the fried food aroma overpowered the dog pee scent. Several vendors had set themselves up in the booths lining the promenade—corn dogs, cinnamon rolls, funnel cakes doused with powdered sugar, and spicy breakfast burritos. Randi’s stomach growled. “You hungry, Mom?”
“Oh God, no. Way too nervous to eat. We’ll get something when Gina’s class is over.”
Randi was a grown woman with two legs and her own money. She could have easily veered off, gotten some food and caught up with her mother in plenty of time to see Gina run her dog. Instead, she tagged along with blind obedience. Deep childhood roots. “So when, exactly, did Gina make the switch from runway to runaway dog?”
“They’re not runaways, dogs on the agility course are simply off leash. It’s very controlled. At least if you’re doing it right.”
“I know. It was a joke.”
“Oh. Right.” Her mother scrunched her brows. “Anyway, back to Gina. Five years ago she moved to Oklahoma to help her brother and his wife open their nightclub, but after it was up and running, she got bored and decided to take up a hobby where she could stay active and travel the country. Perfect answer? Dog agility. It sucks people in. Before you know it, you’re hooked. I’m living proof.”
“Didn’t Gina’s parents die last year?”
“Car crash. Head on. They were older, granted, but Gina and her brother, Andrew, took it hard. It’s difficult to lose a parent, no matter what their age.”
Coming upon the grandstand, covered for protection from the elements but open on all sides, her mother fell silent. The way the sun lit the lines around her eyes and the deepening jowls along her cheeks softened Randi’s heart. “I hope you’re around until you’re a hundred and two.”
“Come on, hurry.” Her mother grabbed her arm, ignoring the opportunity for a tender moment. “I’ll never forgive myself if we miss Gina’s run.”
****
Row upon row of metal benches loomed above their heads, but the bleachers were full. Seventy percent human, thirty percent dog–all sitting beside their people or on their laps. Shane’s toenails slipped as he started up the stairs. He scrambled and panicked. Randi put a hand on his back to slow him down. It seemed the more experienced dogs had already figured out if you went slow and relaxed, the going was far easier. Jojo’s little paws, however, never had to touch the metal.
A small-boned woman with tight brown curls falling just below her collarbone scooted closer to a blue merle Aussie to make room for them.
“Thanks.” Shane crammed himself in front of Randi’s knees and her mother and Jojo grabbed the last seat closest to the aisle. Randi admired the Aussie. “Beautiful dog you’ve got there.”
The woman’s thin smile grew fat. Compliment a dog-person’s dog and you had a friend for life. “Your dog’s nice too. I think my Bess has her eye on him already. He’s a handsome devil. What’s his name?”
“Shane. That’s Jojo on my mother’s lap.”
The woman tapped her chest. “Sheila Barnes.”
“Randi Sterling. My mother, Lee Ann.”
Introductions over with, Randi checked out the scene. The arena had been divided into three sections with metal barriers. Each had a judge’s table and folding chairs for the timer and scribes. In the middle ring, a group of contestants streamed onto the dirt, holding course patterns and motioning to the obstacles in numerical sequence.
A Rottweiler forged its way up the stairs, straining at his collar and breathing hard, dragging a helpless owner behind. Closest to the aisle, Jojo went ballistic and tried in vain to launch herself from Lee Ann’s grip.
Big ears, small brain.
Her mother pulled something from her pocket and Jojo switched from brave to beggar in no time flat. She gobbled the offering and licked her lips.
“What’d you just give her?”
“Dried turkey heart. Want one?”
“No thanks.”
Her mother reached over to lift Jojo’s lips and checked her teeth for no apparent reason. “How are your finances, honey?”
Though seemingly out of left field, Randi wasn’t surprised. She could tell by the way her mother scanned the barren refrigerator last night the query had been brewing. “Fairly anemic.”
“Well, that’s not what I wanted to hear. I was hoping you could at least afford some new socks.”
“Mine do the job. They cover the majority of my feet.”
Her mother made a tsking noise to which Jojo wagged her feathery tail.
“Is Jojo AKC registered?”
“Of course. Not only that, but she’s the last of a line. No more of her papa’s sperm. My precious pup came from the final batch.”
“Wow. Must have set you back a prett
y penny.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes. “Are you asking what I paid for her?”
A clear etiquette breach, blood related or not. Her mother had no qualms about asking why her fridge was bare, but permission didn’t go both ways. “Is something wrong with that?”
“I paid a lot. You’d probably think it was too much.”
“Tell me.”
Her mother stroked Jojo’s fur and didn’t look up. “Two grand.”
Randi’s eye twitched. The slogan, “Don’t buy, while shelter pets die,” ticker-taped through her head. A worthwhile debate, but she’d save it for a time when she had her mother’s full attention. She studied Jojo’s furry form, her ribcage rising and falling beneath her mother’s arms.
“That’s about two hundred a pound.”
“And worth every bit.”
“Must have been exciting to pick her out of the litter.”
“I didn’t get to.”
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t allowed. Gina did it.”
From the bleachers above their heads, a woman’s voice called, “Lee Ann!”
At first Randi was afraid Gina had spotted them, spoiling her mother’s surprise. Turned out the call came from a couple in matching American flag shirts sitting near the top of the stands. The woman smiled; the man stayed focused on the ring.
“Who are they?”
“Gina’s brother, Andrew, and his wife, Valerie.”
“Andrew looks nervous.”
“We all are.”
Down below, the judge, in a dress shirt, tie, pressed black slacks and glaringly out of place tennis shoes, strolled to the center of the arena. The ring crew took their seats on opposite ends.
“Look,” her mother whispered, “there’s Gina.”
A tall, thin woman with dark blonde hair in a thick braid halfway down her back, wearing navy nylon sweatpants and a pale yellow polo shirt, stood close to the ring. A sleek black and white Border collie pranced at her side. He wore a harness with the word ZOOM stitched in white letters across his shoulders.
Her mother bounced up and down in her seat. Jojo scrambled for purchase on her thighs. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”
