by Rozsa Gaston
"Percy hasn't spent any time with him. He doesn't know him, and he won't respond to him if he finds him. Also, Percy might be in the area where I've taken him for walks the past five days. I know where I've taken him, Jack doesn't. There's no way he can handle this by himself."
"Who's Jack?" her cousin asked.
"Jack Whitby. Tom's friend, who was going to take the dog for the final five days of their trip."
"Have you told the owners that he's lost?"
"No. It only happened last night." She neglected to tell Kim they'd called. "I'm hoping he'll show up today."
"Promise me you'll be on tomorrow's flight, whatever happens."
"I can't," she said firmly. "You've got Nina for company, Kim. I'm really sorry to do this to you, but there's nothing else I can do."
"What about your big meeting?" her cousin wailed.
"I need you to meet Derek Simpson for me on Thursday afternoon at six at the conference registration desk, if I can't make it," Hint told her. Kim was the top salesperson in her division at a large pharmaceuticals company. She could sell anything to anyone.
"What? Are you out of your mind?"
"No. You're perfect for the part. You're a better salesperson than me. Just show him my website and whatever other stuff you've got from me then work your magic."
"My magic? What magic? What about your magic?"
"Work your magic on my behalf. You know you can do it."
"Of course I know I can do it, but that's not the point. You need to be here."
"I can't be there unless we find the dog."
"That is so lame. What do I tell Simpson when he asks why you aren't there?"
"The truth. Then just go to town, girl. You know how good you are at closing."
"Closing requires being there. Eyeball to eyeball. It's a given in sales. Why else do you think I travel all the time?"
"Good. So eyeball Derek Simpson and close a deal for me. It's called 'representation,' Kim. You're a genius at representing your company. This time, represent me."
"I can't promise you anything."
Hint could tell from Kim's softened tone that she liked being referred to as a genius. "Then just promise me that you'll meet with him on my behalf. That's all I ask."
"He'll be angry when he meets me, instead of you."
"He'll be impressed that I have an agent, especially if it's you. And don't say anything about being my cousin, too."
"Hah! This will be hysterical," Kim said, a glimmer of interest in her voice.
"Listen, I'm getting another call," Hint fibbed. "It might be someone who's found Percy. I'll call you if we find him." She clicked off, knowing her cousin was hooked. Kim's competitive sense was fierce. Now that Hint had challenged her to win business on her behalf, she knew Kim would try. If anyone could stand in for her, Kim could.
She took off over the field after Jack, her heart undivided. She was now free and clear to look for her friend's dog.
****
Jack couldn't figure out what it was about Hint that was so otherworldly. Were there some tips in Other Worlds magazine she was following that made her seem like a visitor from another planet? Glancing toward her now, as she walked away from him to the side of the dog run bordering the riverbed, he saw her screw up her eyes. She looked as if she were in a trance. That was some way to look for a dog. He might as well find a dowser stick for her to carry.
For his part, he moved quickly down the field, calling Percy's name and handing out copies of the lost ad to the dog owners he passed. No one had seen the dog. Entering the woods on the other side of the small stream, he wondered how Percy would handle a night out in such a setting. The mutt would probably do fine.
Suddenly, he recalled his track buddy mentioning a coyote the park service had found in Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx the summer before. Did coyotes only eat carrion, or were they predators themselves?
The only time he'd seen a coyote outside of a zoo had been on a trip to Tucson, Arizona. An animal the size of a medium-large dog had slowly made its way across the road about fifty yards in front of his car. When he'd looked into the field to see where it had gone, its posture and muscular gait had caught his attention. The creature wore no collar. Enormous yellow eyes had peered at him from a body the color of dirt. Its stance that told him this wasn't a dog. It had a skulking, shadowy look to it, as if it knew any eyes upon it were unfriendly ones.
He hoped there were no coyotes currently in the vicinity of lower Westchester County. His only run-in with one had left such a haunting impression, he could only imagine Percy's terror, should he come across one.
"Percy, you mutt, get back here. Come on back, boy. Don't ruin your girl's vacation." He shouted and whistled, occasionally squeaking the filthy red dachshund toy in his pocket.
As he circled back to find Hint, he came across a young man of about twenty throwing a stick to a large German shepherd.
"Hey, have you seen this dog?" Jack asked, thrusting a flyer into the stranger's hand.
The younger man took a long moment to study the photo. "He looks familiar."
"He does? Have you seen him?" A shot of adrenaline ran through Jack. Percy might be just on the other side of the field at this moment.
"He belongs to a woman with long, reddish brown hair," the man said.
"Have you seen him recently?"
"Yeah. It was yesterday."
"You're kidding. Where? Here?" Jack's heart jumped. Maybe Hint would catch her flight, after all. Although he had to admit, he didn't really want her to disappear, after everything they'd been through over the past twelve hours.
"She was talking to him in some sort of special way. Like, she called him Snuggle Stuff or something."
"Do you mean you saw him with the woman you mentioned?" he said, disappointed.
"She was hot, man. Pale skin and this hair. I never saw hair that color on a woman."
"Okay, but the dog — did you see the dog again later, after you saw him with the woman walking him?"
"No. I just remember the woman. Her voice sort of tinkled when she talked. Like wind chimes or… uh… She's not your girlfriend, is she?" The blond guy looked up from the photo, squinting. A patch of blond stubble was barely visible on his chin, as if he'd gotten his face stuck in a bowl of oatmeal cookie batter.
Jack ignored the question, glancing around for signs of Hint. She was nowhere on the horizon. "Her dog is lost. If you find him, could you call one of these numbers here?"
"Sure. Which one of these numbers is hers, anyways?"
"This one." Jack pointed to his own cell phone number. It looked as if Hint attracted male attention whether she wanted to or not.
The young man turned to go, but Jack stopped him. "Listen — I'm not a dog owner, but you are. What would you do if you lost your dog?"
"I'd post signs all over. I'd describe her, but I wouldn't make her sound too great. There are people out there who'd find her and just keep her."
"Good thought. Okay, thanks, man. See you around."
"Yeah and, uh—"
"Yeah?"
"Could you let the red-haired lady know I said hi if you see her?"
"I'll let her husband know when I see him later down at the police station. He's a cop."
"Oh… uh… Skip it, dude," Smudge Chin amended, looking worried.
Jack moved on. Had he scared off the guy from calling if he found Percy? If he had, Hint would be upset. But he couldn't help himself. His instinct was to protect her from predators like pretty much every male they'd bumped into thus far that day. Some guys were such schmucks. He hoped he wasn't one of them.
****
Seven hours later, Hint was exhausted. They'd spent the day driving around lower Westchester County, visiting the nearest Humane Society, and posting flyers at all the area train stations. It had been an education, if not a rewarding one.
Hours later she mulled over the next few days as Jack drove her back toward Bronxville. She would teleconference in to t
he conference, and Kim would meet with Derek Simpson on Thursday if Percy hadn't yet been found. 'What goes around comes around' kept running through her head, reassuring her that good deeds got rewarded. She wanted to believe they did, but who knew? At the moment, she was too tired to think. But at least she could live with herself, knowing she had devoted herself to finding Percy. She just wouldn't be able to live with looking into Nicole's or Tom's eyes if they didn't succeed. Wearily, she looked out the window.
"You need a break," Jack said, glancing over while driving.
"Thanks, but I'm not taking one until we find him." The deep blue of his eyes made her think of swimming. She wished she could jump into the ocean at that moment and let the water wash away every problem she faced.
"Then what can we do that will give you some downtime but keep us on the trail?" he asked.
She liked the way he'd phrased his question. He must be as exhausted as she was, but he'd mentioned her needs, not his.
"I've got an idea." She cocked her head. "We could stop off at the butcher's on our way back to my place. I'll pick up some steaks, and we can grill them on my patio out back."
"Great idea. The smell might attract Percy. We're sweaty, too, after being out all day, so maybe he'll pick up our scent," Jack agreed.
They dropped by Ollie's, Bronxville's family-owned butcher shop.
"Stay in the car," she told him. "I've got this one. Just come up with a plan for finding our boy."
Jack laughed, his eyes crinkling at each corner. It was a pleasant sound.
Why did she feel light as air, considering the circumstances? They would attract the dog back to them, somehow. She felt sure of it as she stood in front of the counter, watching the butcher weigh two thick steaks.
One hour later, with the sun low on the horizon, she had fired up the grill in her small backyard. Looking up, she spotted Jack rounding the corner, returning from one final walk around the neighborhood. From the paper bag under his arm, he had apparently made a stop on the way back. After closing and latching the gate to Hint's backyard, he pulled a bottle of Pinot Noir from the paper bag and set it on the wrought iron patio table. Smart man.
"I'll feel guilty having too good a time with Percy missing," she said hesitantly, belying her rapidly rising spirits. Her dog-hunting partner had manners, if not subtlety.
"Okay, so let's just have a moderately good time," he mollified her. "Don't forget the power of in vino veritas."
"Why should I share my veritas with you?" she teased, liking the look of his broad shoulders encased in a red polo shirt faded almost pink.
"I want you to have a revelation this evening," he said.
"A revelation?" What did he mean?
"You're going to get an intuition about Percy. I can feel it."
"You can?" Was he teasing, or did he really believe in the kind of stuff she did?
"My intuition tells me yours is going to come up with something." He smiled. "About the dog," he added.
Of course she had intuition. As an illustrator, she relied on hers to inspire her creations. She just wasn't comfortable revealing that side of herself to someone she'd just met. But didn't she need to put herself on the line in order to find Percy? She ran upstairs and fetched salad and wineglasses.
The steaks sizzled as Jack opened the bottle of wine. He poured two glasses then held one out to her.
"Here's to finding Percy." She lightly clinked glasses with him and looked up at the sky. "We need Your help up there."
Jack's eyes followed hers upward. "Help us to help each other find him," he added.
Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction flashed into her mind. They were the words of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, the author of one of her most beloved childhood books, The Little Prince. Something inside rearranged itself then sighed. It was a happy sigh, like the sigh of a lost dog who found a comfortable spot to rest and forgotten, for the moment, that it was lost.
Jack's cell phone rang, interrupting her musings. She turned back to the steaks, but not before she saw his face darken as he took in the voice on the other end.
****
Jack's stomach lurched as he moved quickly to the far side of the patio, away from Hint. Annabel Sanford. After all these months. Or was it years? He wondered what had happened to her hedge fund manager. Maybe his fund had gone belly up. Or had it been a private equities guy? Whoever it had been, she'd dumped him for some big shot financier she'd met in the Hamptons, and he'd been relieved to let her go. What did she want now?
"Jack. It's Annabel. I'm so-o-o-o glad you picked up. I meant to call you months ago. Is this a good time to talk?" Her voice purred like the engine on a Lamborghini. He imagined she was probably driving in one at that moment, talking on her cell phone, daring a state trooper to pull her over, so she could savor the thrill of overcoming his senses in a cloud of over-spiced perfume.
She had enjoyed winning. And Jack had not minded losing, when it came to finally losing her. He had gotten tired of finding himself at the short end of her frequent power plays. With Annabel, every situation had been a win-lose one. He had often wondered what it might be like to be in a win-win relationship with a woman. Wasn't that what being in love was supposed to be about?
"What's up?" he said curtly. It wasn't a good time to talk, but he might as well get it over with and get rid of her. They had nothing left to talk about, having discussed their profound incompatibility repeatedly in the final months of their relationship. His jaw hardened.
"Darling, how've you been?" she gushed into his ear. "I've missed you. It's been awhile — I mean, a long time — since things fizzled out with… um… the East Hampton person. Have you been dating?"
Just because he hadn't hung up on her didn't mean it was okay to call him 'darling.' She had incredible nerve. One of the things he'd found attractive about her. Then. Not now.
"Uh-huh." For all she knew, he was on a date that very moment. He was grilling steaks with an attractive woman, right? Never mind that they were hunting down a lost dog. Why did the sound of her voice irritate him so much? He felt like ripping out one of the slats of the white picket fence he leaned on as he carefully hid his face from Hint.
"Darling… could we possibly get together?" Annabel asked. "I really need to see you. It's been a long, long time."
"Yeah, I know." And that's a good thing. What was he supposed to say? She must really be having a dry spell to be calling good old Jack Whitby, her chump standby, the man without a hedge fund.
He burned just thinking of her sitting around with her girlfriends, downing Cosmopolitans and devouring pictorials in the latest society magazine in their search for Mr. Gazillionaire without an Attention Deficit Disorder. Dream on. She might as well be on a mission to find a camel without a hump.
"Are you happy, Jack? You seemed so content when we were together. I was silly not to appreciate it at the time…" Her voice trailed off.
"You're right. I am." And you're right that you were silly and still are. Why was he getting so hot under the collar? He'd been thrilled when she'd done him the favor of tossing him aside. He wasn't interested to be picked up again, like an old blanket that a child leaves out in the backyard over winter and rediscovers in the spring.
It wasn't spring in Jack's heart. It was still wintertime, and when the spring thaws came, they were not going to be ushered in by Annabel Sanford, no matter how good she looked in a red dress.
"So when can we meet? Can we do our Friday afternoon G & Ts at the Stanhope? I miss our Friday afternoons so-o-o-o much, Jack-Jack."
"I… uh… can't say right now." He hated being called Jack-Jack. Remembering various circumstances under which she'd used that nickname, he felt a blush crawl up the back of his neck.
"I loved our Friday afternoons, sweetie. Remember how they flowed so smoothly into Friday evenings?" Her laugh trilled suggestively.
"Uh-huh." He would rather not remember those times right now. He
had a dog to catch. He wanted to get off the phone, with Hint right behind him. Listening to every word he breathed, no doubt. What woman wouldn't? What man wouldn't? He knew he would.
"I want to see you again so much. I can't tell you. Would you promise me we'll do the Stanhope this Friday? Please, Jack-Jack?"
"I'll take it under advisement."
"I'll take you under advisement, Baby Boy. On Friday afternoon I'm putting on my red halter dress — you remember the one — and going over to the Stanhope around half past five. I'll sit at our favorite table. You're advised to show up."
"Mm-hmm…"
"Was that a yes?" she whispered.
"No. It was not," he enunciated clearly into the phone.
A short pause ensued.
"You're not with someone right now, are you?" Her voice rose, suddenly sharp and screechy. The multi-faceted, lightning fast mood changes of his former girlfriend jolted him once again. Why was he allowing her to get to him? It was time to throw her off before she confused him any further.
"Actually, I am." Jack chose not to explain exactly what he meant by 'being with someone right now.' The days of explaining himself to Annabel Sanford were over. Long gone. Over and done like a steak that had sat on the grill too long. It had been a good steak before it had burned.
"Oh. I see." Another pause. She seemed to be remembering for the first time in their conversation that he was no longer actually her boyfriend. "Well, great to hear your voice, darling. I'd better get back to the party." The dulcet tone had returned, all sweetness and sunlight, like tiny purple flowers covering the permafrost in the Arctic Circle.
"Good to hear from you," he lied. Irritating to hear from you. Confusing to hear from you. Upsetting. Definitely not good.
He clicked off. Sweat covered his forehead and pooled in his armpits. She'd probably been drunk-dialing. He hoped not, for her sake. But it wasn't his business anymore.
Running nervous fingers through thick hair he steeled himself against the image of the tall, shapely blonde who had been his girlfriend for the worse part of two years. She'd been a fluid, endlessly moving weathervane, always ready to change course with the latest prevailing wind.
