“Oh, you can be very persuasive when you set your mind to it, Sher. The incentive is having a house to yourself. If we get married, it’ll be all yours.”
“Married? That’s a big step when you haven’t even gone out with the man yet. Has hunting for Emily’s wedding dress scrambled your brain?”
“Unlike you, I want to be a wife.”
Sherry had a hard time visualizing Yvette as a dean’s wife. But, hey, that wasn’t her problem. Maybe Yvette was serious this time. “Okay,” Sherry sighed, and pulled a file of papers out of her briefcase. “But the decision will have to be Lock’s.”
Yvette opened the door with a jangle of gold bracelets. “Here’s the movie. Tell Garrett to drop by here for a drink. If I get lucky, you may have to spend the night with the kid.”
“No.” Sherry shook her head. “I’m sleeping in my own bed tonight and that’s final. You want somebody to stay all night, you’d better call a babysitting service.”
“Okay, okay. No overnighter. Just go.”
As Sherry rang Garrett’s bell, she wondered how she’d let herself get talked into this. But if they’d truly had a date and he’d forgotten— She almost jumped out of her skin when he bellowed, “Come in!” She eased open the door.
He had a cell phone tucked against one ear and two mitted hands wrapped around a smoking pot. Behind him, the room was blue with smoke. Even as he waved her inside, the smoke alarm bleated. “Oh, no,” he said, gesturing helplessly with the blackened pan. “No, not you,” he said into the phone. “I’ve got a crisis here,” he snapped. “All right, I’ll continue to hold.”
By now Sherry saw that Keith wasn’t in bed, but huddled in the leather recliner. He had his arms around the most disreputable excuse for a dog Sherry had ever seen. The boy’s nose was red as that of Santa’s lead reindeer. Huge tears made muddy furrows down ashen cheeks, and giant sobs shook his skinny chest.
Sherry closed the door quietly. Or maybe it only seemed quiet because the alarm made such a racket. Dropping the printouts and the movie on the glass-topped coffee table, she went straight to the alarm box, set a straight-backed chair beneath it, climbed up and pried the top off, dropping the batteries.
“Thank you,” Garrett mouthed, and went back to talking on the phone.
Sherry hurried to open the front windows, then the back door to let the smoke out. The kitchen was in chaos, she noted as she waved her way through the smoke and navigated around nearly empty packing crates. Dirty cereal bowls still sat on the table. She even tripped over one on the floor. Gazing at it blankly, she finally decided either Keith or Garrett had fed the dog Lucky Charms. She gingerly picked up the bowl, put it in the sink and ran it full of water as Garrett came in and dumped the charred kettle into the other half of the divided sink.
With a dazed expression, he punched the phone’s disconnect button. “That was the Humane Society,” he announced. “They claim they can’t tell me if anyone called about a missing dog, because I don’t know what breed this one is.” He closed the phone and tossed it on the counter. “I’m not even sure it is a dog, except the thing barks. I know it has fleas because the manager of the day care is going to make me pay to have the facility sprayed. She spent ten minutes lecturing me on health regulations. Then she suggested I find a new day care for Keith.”
“Oh, no. By now most of the good ones are full and have waiting lists.”
“Right now that’s the least of my worries. First I have to get rid of the dog. Will you go tell Keith I’m not lying about the rules? We can’t keep the dog and that’s that.”
“Slow down.” Sherry placed a hand on his arm to calm him. “You have two bathrooms. I’ll bathe the dog in the tub. You stick Keith in the shower. Once the pup’s clean, we should be able to tell the breed.”
“You think so?” Garrett scowled. “If it didn’t growl every time I got close, I’d say it was a mop someone threw out with the dirty water.”
“So you don’t like dogs?”
“Me? I love them. I didn’t make the rules here. I do obey them. I can’t afford to be thrown out before my deal on this places closes.”
“Did you feed the dog sweet cereal?”
“Keith did even after I said not to. I put bean soup on to heat for us and went to phone the animal shelter. Keith insisted the dog was hungry.”
“He probably is. I have a solution,” she said, all memory of Yvette’s mission flying out of her head as she walked over to Keith and knelt to look at the dog. “No collar. Very likely he is a stray.”
“Your solution?” Garrett prompted.
“Oh...I was going to say my folks have an old dog who’s pretty easygoing. They’re well stocked with dog food, flea soap and combs. Let’s take the pup there. My mom’s home all day. I’m sure she’d keep him while you run an ad.”
Keith brightened considerably at that. He scooted forward, his tears abating.
Garrett gazed at Sherry as if she’d lost her mind.
She stood and faced him. “Do you have a better idea?”
“No. But what if no one claims him? Then what?”
She waved a hand airily. “Cross that bridge when you come to it.” She offered the boy an encouraging smile.
“All right,” Garrett agreed slowly. “We’ll take my pickup. It already has muddy paw prints on the seats. Don’t say I didn’t warn you about fleas.”
The dog whined, burying his nose in Keith’s neck the minute the truck door closed. Sherry absently scratched behind the pup’s matted ears. She was rewarded with a hearty lap and Keith’s grateful smile.
“It’s hard to tell, but I think the dog is part poodle and maybe terrier.”
“Ninety percent ragamuffin,” Garrett muttered.
Keith glanced up in surprise. “I’m calling him Rags. I think it’s his name. He came the first time I used it.”
Sherry sympathized with a lonely boy’s desire to own a pet. During her own childhood, with her parents and Nolan spending long hours at work and school, she didn’t know what she’d have done without Murphy, their lop-eared beagle. “Exactly where did you find Rags?” she asked, inspecting a tender pad on the dog’s right foot.
“When Dad dropped me off, Rags was lying outside the fence. He was still there at recess. At lunch I gave him half my sandwich. He crawled under the fence and followed me. A big kid kicked him.” Keith’s lower lip trembled. “It hurt him, Dad.”
Garrett glanced over at his son, eyes dark and enigmatic. “Nevertheless, Keith, what you did was dangerous. You should have told the playground teacher or gone to the office. He might have bitten you. Strays can have rabies.”
“Turn here,” Sherry said when it seemed Garrett was so intent on lecturing Keith he was about to drive past the Campbells’ street.
“He didn’t bite me,” Keith said stubbornly. “He’s scared and hungry is all. He needs a home. If you won’t let me keep him, me’n Rags will run away.”
“Nonsense, Keith. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“The driveway’s coming up on your left.” Sherry raised her hand to point and managed a warning squeeze to Garrett’s shoulder before she dropped it again. She might not have kids, but she’d worked with enough parents and children to know that too often such threats weren’t idle.
“Let’s not make plans until we have him bathed and fed,” she said. “Rags will be safe, Keith. I know you’d rather not think about the fact that he might already have a home. But what if he belonged to you and accidentally got out and became lost? Wouldn’t you want the person who found him to try and locate you?”
The boy’s skinny arms tightened around the dog. “I guess.”
Garrett felt himself relax at Sherry’s touch. Did she think he didn’t realize the seriousness of this mess? He did. Before the move he’d thought himself capable of handlin
g anything that came up with Keith. Carla’s demands to be let back in her son’s life changed all that. And where was she? If she’d taken Keith to see the stern-wheelers as she’d promised, this entire episode with the dog would probably have been avoided.
Secretly though, Garrett didn’t mind that Sherry Campbell had come by a bit early. Or rather, he wouldn’t mind if she figured out a way to extract him from this debacle. No, a little voice argued, that’s not entirely true. It helped having someone around when push came to shove. Someone as calm and unruffled as Sherry. This was a new side of her. A nice side.
Garrett slowed, peering into the darkness. “Did I miss their driveway? Last time we were here it was daylight.”
“After the next block.”
Keith slid forward and tried to see around Sherry. “I wish we had a house out here or closer to Nolan. They don’t have stupid rules that say you can’t have dogs.”
“Your dad didn’t have much choice, Keith. How about your mother? Will her home accommodate Rags? Provided no one claims him when you run the ad?”
Keith hunched. “Her house is big ’nuff. Everything in it’s white. Crawford’s afraid I’ll get stuff dirty. Don’t think he’d like a dog. But I’ll ask. Can I call her, Dad?”
Garrett glared at Sherry over Keith’s head. He took the corner into the driveway pretty fast and was forced to brake harder than he’d intended. “Let’s get this smelly mutt washed first, shall we?” He killed the engine and was none too gentle setting the emergency brake.
Sherry got the message that she’d overstepped her bounds. Boy, was Lock a hard man to please. He didn’t want the dog. She’d thought the idea of pawning Rags off on his ex might please him. Obviously not. Well, at least Mark and Megan’s presence ought to ease the tension some. It might turn out to be a lucky thing that Nolan had insisted Emily and the kids stay here until after the wedding.
Leading the way through the side gate and into the mudroom off her parents’ kitchen, Sherry called out a greeting. Nan Campbell appeared at once.
“What have we here?” Nan aimed the question at Sherry, but smiled at Keith.
“Keith found a dog today, Mom. No tags. He’s in bad need of TLC.”
“Well, we have plenty of that. If I had a nickel for every stray you dragged home, Sherilyn, I could retire in style.”
Keith cocked an ear. “What happened to the dogs you brought home?”
Nan tweaked his button nose. “Practically everyone we know is blessed with man’s best friend. Sherry found them all good homes.”
Sherry backed out of the pantry, dragging a bag of kibble. “Got a bowl, Mom? After a good meal we’ll bathe this little guy—and see what we have under the grime.”
“Where’s Mark?” Keith glanced around. “I wanna show him my dog.”
“Not yours, son,” Garrett was quick to correct him.
“He’s gonna be. Look at him eat, Dad. I bet he hasn’t had food in a long time. We can’t let him go back to bad people, can we?”
Sherry waited to see how the man with all the answers worked his way around that logic. Turned out he didn’t have to. Nan offered him an out.
“Ben’s in the family room watching a football game, Garrett. He’d love company. Nolan, Emily and the kids went out to dinner and a movie. I’ve been making favors for the wedding. Ben came in here during the quarter and said it’s too quiet.”
Garrett’s eyes lit. “I forgot about the game. I’ve waited all week to see the Chiefs play the Cowboys. Nothing like starting the season out with divided loyalties.”
Nan made a face. “Better not venture into the family room if you aren’t rooting for the Chiefs. Few things turn my mild-mannered husband into a snarling beast. One of them is anyone making even a slightly disparaging remark about his team. I swear you’d think he owned them.”
“Thanks for the warning, Mrs. C. Man, switching allegiance is tough. Keith, do you think we can go in there and not root for Troy?”
“You go, Dad. I’ll stay with Rags.”
Garrett frowned. “What? But you love watching the Cowboys play.”
“It’s okay,” Sherry urged the boy. “I’ll take good care of Rags. However, I make no promises that you’ll recognize him after a bath.”
“I want to help.” Keith thrust out his jaw. “Dad doesn’t think I can take care of a pet. Mrs. Curtis in the school office said keeping dogs clean is important. Even Dad said Rags smelled. Can I stay and watch how you give him a bath?”
Sherry shrugged. “You may. And it’s time. Look, Rags licked his bowl clean. Cleaner than clean. Nab him before he licks a hole in Mom’s dish.”
They all laughed watching the pup lick the bowl across the floor. All except Garrett. Sherry eyed his frown with some misgiving. For his sake, she hoped Rags did have an owner. But not for Keith’s.
* * *
“WOW, HE’S ALMOST white,” Sherry said half an hour later after she’d changed the water in the tub twice. They’d bathed him first with a flea soap, then with a better-smelling herbal doggie shampoo.
Keith sat back on his heels and shook water from his shirt and hair. “Boy, is your mom gonna be mad. We got water everywhere.”
“I’ll clean it up—” Sherry laughed “—while you dry him with the blow-dryer set on low. I hope the noise doesn’t scare him, but I don’t like seeing him shiver.”
“He won’t catch cold, will he?” Keith draped the towel around the bedraggled-looking dog. “Dad’ll never let me keep him if he gets sick.”
“We’ll dry him. Keith,” Sherry said. She stopped her mopping up long enough to be sure she had the boy’s attention. “Keeping him isn’t definite.”
“I know. I know,” he said impatiently. “If somebody owns him. Bet they don’t.” As if agreeing with his new master, the dog wriggled out from beneath the towel and licked Keith’s nose. The boy hugged the wet pup and laughed gleefully.
Sherry sighed. She wished she hadn’t gotten involved. Garrett Lock had an iron will and so, it appeared, did his son. Woe to anyone who got caught in the crossfire, she thought dolefully, plugging in a blow-dryer she recognized as Emily’s. Sherry aimed it at the dog, rather than handing it to Keith, in case Rags objected.
He didn’t, but settled on Keith’s lap. If a dog was capable of smiling, this one did.
Nan stuck her head into the room once Keith had dried and fluffed most of the silky hair. “Oh, isn’t he precious?” She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Sherry, I think he’s a bichon frise. He hasn’t been trimmed, but he’s got the curled tail and the buff coloring.”
“You mean he’s not a mutt?” Sherry left the wet towels and tried to see something of pedigree in the animal sitting so contentedly on Keith’s lap.
“I’m not saying he’s a purebred. He could have mixed bloodlines. One of the secretaries in your dad’s office has one.” Nan ran her hands over the soft floppy ears.
“It’s not a poodle mix?” Sherry couldn’t exactly say when she’d started rooting for Keith’s ownership of the little dog. But she realized she had. Chances of a dog with a highfalutin name like bichon frise being a stray were slim to none.
“Don’t think so. Dorothy belongs to some state-wide club of bichon owners. If you want to know more, give her a call.”
Keith shut off the dryer. He hugged the little animal, the sparkle gone from his eyes. “Will the lady know if somebody’s dog ran away?”
“She may,” Nan said. “I believe her club has a registry.”
Sherry tried discreetly signaling her mother to be quiet.
Nan was clearly puzzled by Sherry’s signals a moment before understanding dawned. “Oh, Keith, honey. I didn’t mean to imply this pup was dognapped or anything.”
“Dognapped?” Keith’s horror was evident in his voice.
“Thank you, Mother dear,” Sherry muttered under her breath. “Give him something else to worry about, why don’t you?” Sherry helped the boy up and turned him toward the door. “Keith, why don’t you go show Rags to my dad?”
“You’re gonna call that Dorothy person, aren’t you?” Keith asked, eyes watery, lower lip quivering.
“No.” Sherry held up her hand in the scout’s-honor fashion. “Stay in here if you’d rather. I intended to ask Mom to rent Rags a room at the Campbell hotel for the night.”
“For me, too?” Keith telegraphed Nan a hopeful look.
Sherry rushed to nix that proposal. She had a pretty vivid idea of what Garrett’s reaction would be.
“I promise I won’t be any trouble. I won’t even eat breakfast.”
Garrett showed up in the doorway in time to hear Keith. “Whoa. What’s this about not eating breakfast, champ? Tomorrow’s our morning for chocolate-chip pancakes. It’s ritual on weekends,” he told Sherry.
If Keith was torn, it was only for a moment. “Fix ’em for Sherry, Dad. I hafta stay here with Rags. I don’t want him to think I dumped him with strangers.”
Judging by the way Garrett’s brows drew together over the bridge of his nose, Sherry knew she hadn’t underestimated his reaction one iota. Frankly she doubted Keith had only one night’s stay in mind. “Is it halftime?” she asked. At Garrett’s curt nod, she hustled her mother past him. “Mom and I will go pop a couple of bags of corn. I’ll pour sodas all around.” Never had two women beat a hastier retreat. They’d disappeared before Garrett could open his mouth.
Shortly afterward, a disgruntled man and his son followed them into the homey kitchen. The popcorn filled the air with an irresistible aroma that Sherry hoped would trigger an opportunity to sit around the table and talk convivially.
No such luck. Nolan, Emily and the kids returned just as the last kernels popped. Greetings weren’t even complete when Nolan helped himself to the steaming bag and a stack of bowls. “We suffered through a terrible science-fiction flick and missed the first half of the ball game. C’mon, guys. Last one to the TV gets no popcorn.”
The Boss Next Door (Harlequin Heartwarming) Page 13
