In Dog We Trust

by Beth Kendrick

  “Then let’s get serious.” Liam rounded the granite island with newfound intensity. “You want to make a deal? Let’s do it. No threats, no lawyers, no falsified reports to the cops about stolen cuff links.”

  “Finally.” Jocelyn put one hand on her hip. “What’s your price?”

  He moved in closer, so close she could feel the heat from his skin on her bare arm.

  “Don’t.” She shook off his hand. “You’re not going to charm me into giving away my beach house. You’re not James Bond.”

  “If I were James Bond, I wouldn’t be charming you; I’d be seducing you.”

  She lifted her chin. “Well, if you were James Bond, I’d be the deadly sexy double agent, and I’d seduce you into dropping your claim.”

  He looked intrigued.

  “This whole night was a waste of my time and makeup.” She strode to the door and flung it open. “I’ll see you in court.”

  chapter 25

  “Here’s a hypothetical,” Jocelyn said to Bree as they walked the dogs down the shoreline the next afternoon.

  Bree winced. “Oh no.”

  “Let’s say that you’re my real lawyer.”

  “I thank God every day that I’m not.”

  “But let’s just imagine that you are. And let’s say that I’m fighting a lawsuit brought by a hot but contentious man.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And let’s say that I go over to the hot but contentious man’s house to make him a settlement offer. And let’s further imagine—”

  Bree clapped her hand over her eyes. “Oh no.”

  “That I ended up, um, thinking impure thoughts about him. And there might have been a little bit of accidental touching. Would I be obligated to tell you about it?”

  “Yes,” Bree answered immediately. “Every gory, graphic detail.”

  “No, I mean legally. Do I have to tell my lawyer about this kind of conflict of interest?”

  “I can’t believe this!” Bree started hopping up and down in consternation. “Why would you have impure thoughts about a man who’s trying to steal your whole life out from under you?”

  “Well. He looks good in boxers, and apparently, he cooks.”

  “Is he dropping the lawsuit?” Bree demanded.

  “Um . . .”

  “What the hell, Joss? Don’t lose your mind, your heart, your dogs, your house, and your cash flow over a bulge in boxers.”

  “That’s not very nice,” Jocelyn muttered.

  Bree looked heavenward for divine intervention. “You are forbidden to see him again, do you hear me? I am putting my foot down.”

  As if punctuating Bree’s sentence, Jocelyn’s phone dinged.

  “Who’s texting you?” Bree held out her hand. “Is it him? Hand it over.”

  “You can’t take my phone,” Jocelyn countered. “You have no authority.”

  “Oh yeah? Well then, how about I tell your mother what you just said?”

  Jocelyn felt the blood drain from her face.

  But Bree wasn’t finished. “Or maybe I’ll tell my grandmother.”

  “Don’t tell them,” Jocelyn begged. “I’m not going to see him again.”

  “You better not. If you do, I will know. And then the wrath of your mother and my grandmother will rain down.” Bree pursed her lips. “And I’m still waiting for your phone.”

  Carmen chose that moment to bolt, yanking so hard on the leash that her thin leather collar snapped. She dashed toward a nearby cluster of cars parked along the sand. Jocelyn followed the trajectory of the dog’s run and knew exactly where she was headed.

  A familiar reddish brown dog was clambering out of a Subaru parked by a trio of pine trees.

  “Be right back,” Jocelyn told Bree as she dashed after Carmen.

  “You need to get a better leash for your dog,” Friday’s owner remarked when Jocelyn caught up with Carmen, who was nuzzling and licking her long-lost love’s face.

  “It was the collar this time, not the leash.” Jocelyn leaned over, trying to catch her breath. “I’ll have to get a replacement made from titanium mesh.”

  “She’s quite determined, isn’t she?” The older woman, again wearing her sun hat, patted Carmen’s head.

  “She’s a desperado.”

  Friday’s owner seemed pleased by this description. “Well, as long as they’re both here together, why not let them play?”

  Because this dog is only supposed to associate with upper-crust, aristocratic purebreds and her previous owner would come back from the dead to haunt me if he knew that his pampered little princess was palling around with a roughneck with no papers? “Sure, why not?”

  “This is Friday,” Jocelyn announced to Bree as the dogs and their human chaperones made their way down the sand dunes. “And this is Friday’s owner—what is your actual name?”

  “Violet Kilgore.” She offered a handshake to Bree. “I’ve been coming here every summer since I was twenty-two.”

  “I’m Bree.” Bree obliged the handshake after a moment of reluctance. “I’ve lived here all my life.”

  “Every year I rent the same house by the point.” Violet pointed to the edge of the bay. “You must love living by the beach all year round.”

  “I live inland,” Bree said. “On the other side of town. Most of the locals can’t afford an ocean view anymore.”

  “What about you?” Violet asked Jocelyn. “Do you live nearby?”

  “Right there.” Jocelyn jerked her thumb in the direction of the Allardyce mansion.

  And with that, Violet stopped talking to Bree and addressed herself only to Jocelyn, a phenomenon Jocelyn had come to think of as “The Tunnel Vi$ion Effect”: When a new acquaintance found out you had tons of money, other people became invisible.

  “How long have you lived here?” Violet asked.

  Jocelyn glanced at Bree, who was rolling her eyes. “Oh, not that long.”

  “And what is it you do for work, dear?”

  Jocelyn smiled. “I’m an entrepreneur. Run my own business.”

  Next to her, Bree perked up. “She’s brilliant and so resourceful.”

  “My goodness.” Violet sounded awed. “Are you in tech? The Internet and whatnot?”

  “No, I got my start in the lifestyle and hospitality sector,” Jocelyn said. “I saw some needs not being met, and I filled the gaps.”

  “And what about the young man you were with at the beach the other day?” Social boundaries were not something Violet seemed to be very familiar with. “Is he an entrepreneur, too?”

  “Oh, him?” Jocelyn scoffed. “No, he’s just my kept man.”

  Violet’s brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

  “He’s a hottie, isn’t he? Abs of steel.” Jocelyn winked. “And a surprisingly good conversationalist. I gave him a subscription to the Wall Street Journal so he could keep up at the breakfast table.”

  “Oh my.” Violet’s voice quavered. “If you’ll excuse me, I . . . I have to . . .” She drifted away, pretending to fiddle with her cell phone.

  Bree started cracking up. “Lifestyle and hospitality. You’re the next Martha Stewart.”

  “It could happen,” Jocelyn assured her. “Martha Stewart has dogs. Chow chows, I think.”

  “Speaking of dogs, look.” Bree nodded over at the sandy bluff, where Carmen and Friday were capering. “They’re in love. The show dog and the pound puppy. It’s very Lady and the Tramp.”

  “Except she’s not supposed to fall in love with a mutt. The last romantic prospect she met was European nobility.”

  “No wonder she’s having a summer fling with a bad boy,” Bree said. “It’s very Dirty Dancing.”

  “This is never going to go anywhere. The relationship is doomed.” Jocelyn watched the dogs frolicking. “She’s supposed to get knocked up and have
a bunch of puppies with another show-quality Lab. That’s literally her job. Plus, he’s neutered.”

  Bree clasped her hands to her heart. “It’s very The Sun Also Rises.”

  “That’s it—we’re not friends anymore.”

  “You should be happy that she found her soul mate,” Bree said. “They’re obviously meant to be together. Is it the end of the world if she doesn’t breed?”

  “Listen, I’m already in trouble with Lois for not taking this stuff seriously enough. If I let Carmen waste her fertility on a sterilized shelter mutt, she’ll probably kill me with her bare hands.”

  “Fine, then what about IVF?” Bree asked. “Shell out a few bucks on more frozen dog sperm.”

  “The vet said if it hasn’t worked by now, it’s probably never going to work. I need to find another Lab to make her forget about Friday. A Lab with champion lines and virile, nonfrozen sperm.” Jocelyn watched the pair of pups, who were literally rolling around in the sand together.

  “I’ve got it.” Bree snapped her fingers. “You set up a steamy, no-strings-attached liaison with a good-looking Labrador she’ll never see again. Then she and her beloved can raise the puppies together. Like that Heart song from the eighties. She’s like Nancy Wilson and—”

  Jocelyn held up her palm. “Stop talking.”

  Bree grudgingly obliged as Violet approached them again.

  Violet looked directly—and solely—at Jocelyn and stated, “I’ve got to run, but I’d love to arrange another time to meet up with the dogs. How does tomorrow morning work for you?”

  “That should be fine,” Jocelyn said. “Right here? Ten o’clock?”

  “Assuming you’ve finished your shareholder meeting,” Bree cautioned.

  “I’ll wrap that up in plenty of time.” Jocelyn beamed. “After all, my dogs are always my priority.”

  “I completely agree,” Violet said. “Friday should get to spend as much time as possible with his new friend before we leave for home.”

  “And home is where?” Jocelyn asked.

  “Just north of Chicago.”

  “And you’re leaving when?”

  “Next week.” Violet clapped her hands until Friday trotted over, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. “See you soon!”

  “Oh no.” Jocelyn regarded Carmen with sympathy. “They’ll never see each other again. She’ll be heartbroken.”

  “See? It’s totally Dirty Dancing.”

  “Yeah, well, nobody puts Carmen in a corner.”

  chapter 26

  After a whirlwind weekend of late-night stakeouts, early-morning dog shows, legal wrangling, and boxer bulges, Jocelyn was ready to get back to real life. Saturday morning was checkout time for most of the local rental properties, which meant she had a metric ton of laundry to pick up and process. Plus a prescription run for her mother, a vet checkup for Hester and the puppies, and a trip to the grocery store. Jocelyn always made the drive to the supermarket in Bethany Beach because the local grocery, a small emporium by the boardwalk, carried fresh, organic, artisan foods at obscenely high prices. No matter how good her cash flow situation was, Jocelyn would never be able to justify spending what used to be an hour’s wage on a single jar of jam.

  By the time she finished her errands and was leaving the grocery store, it was nearly three o’clock. She was wheeling her shopping cart across the parking lot when a high, feminine voice called her name.

  Bride-to-be Krysten waved from the next aisle of cars, hopping up and down to be seen over the row of minivans and coupes. “Jocelyn! Come here!”

  Jocelyn cast a wary glance at her groceries, which included fresh fillets of sole and a carton of ice cream, but obliged. She threaded her way through the cars to find Krysten accompanied by Dan and another guy. Specifically, the guy they’d all been spying on the other night.

  “You guys, this is one of the girls I’ve been telling you about.” Krysten gestured to Jocelyn as though she were a newly acquired accessory.

  “We’ve met,” Dan reminded her.

  “Oh right, at the shower,” Krysten said.

  “And also all the way through school.” Jocelyn raised her hand in greeting to Dan. “We both know Bree.”

  Dan’s eyes brightened a bit at the mention of Bree’s name. “How’s she doing? We didn’t get a chance to catch up at the party.”

  “Well, of course not—she was the entertainment.” Krysten giggled.

  “She’s great,” Jocelyn said to Dan. “She’s hoping to start law school in a few months.”

  “Oh yeah? Good for her. Where does she want to go?” he asked.

  “Philadelphia.” Jocelyn named the school, and Dan perked up even more.

  “I’m going to be doing my fellowship at the hospital right near there. We should exchange contact information since we’ll be neighbors.”

  “Bree was the palm reader at my shower,” Krysten was telling her other male companion. “And Jocelyn was her assistant. They were amazing—everybody had such a good time. We totally want to hire you guys again. Maybe for my next book club meeting.”

  Jocelyn turned to face the guy she’d been surveilling. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jocelyn Hillier.”

  “Brian.” His posture and body language were entirely different than the last time she’d seen him. He kept a measured, almost formal distance between himself and Krysten.

  “Are you new in town?” Jocelyn asked. “Or just visiting?”

  “I live near Lewes.” Brian shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at Krysten. Jocelyn started to wonder if she had the wrong guy. Could this stiff, mild-mannered stick in the mud be the same hand-holding, lip-kissing canoodler she’d witnessed under the cover of darkness?

  Jocelyn smiled cheerily. “And how do you know Dan and Krysten?”

  Krysten looped one arm through Brian’s and the other through Dan’s, nearly blinding Jocelyn as her diamond ring gleamed in the sunlight. “Brian is our peer counselor.”

  Jocelyn nodded. “Oh, like a . . . What is that, exactly?”

  “It’s part of this thing we’re doing through church,” Krysten explained. “There’s a whole class for couples who are engaged. Communication, conflict, stuff like that.”

  “Sounds like a good idea.”

  “And Brian here is the group leader.” Krysten beamed. Dan nodded. Jocelyn felt one eyebrow inch upward.

  “You’re like a relationship counselor?” Jocelyn clarified.

  Brian laughed. “I don’t have any fancy degrees, but I do my best to help.”

  “He’s too modest,” Krysten gushed. “He’s so smart and funny. He always has the best advice.”

  Dan’s smile dimmed a few watts. Krysten must have sensed this, because she turned toward her fiancé and rested her hand on his cheek. “And what a great fiancé I’ve got to work with.”

  “You two are going to have a bright future together,” Brian said a bit too heartily.

  Jocelyn took in the arm linking and the gushing and the peer counseling for a minute and tried to imagine what good could possibly come from continuing this conversation. “Okay, well, I’ve got some frozen stuff I need to get home.” She turned her shopping cart around and headed back toward her car.

  “Okay, but before you go, I want to set up a time for book club!” Krysten called.

  “We’ll be in touch. Bye!” Jocelyn opened her trunk and started piling brown bags in. She slammed into her car, cranked up the air conditioner, dialed Bree, and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as the phone rang and Bree’s voice mail came on.

  “Breaking news, Bree. The perp is the peer counselor. Call me back!”

  * * *

  • • •

  When she made it back to the beach house, she had to park under the portico by the side door because there was an unfamiliar sedan b
locking one end of the circular driveway.

  “Again?” Jocelyn muttered as she cut the engine and started hauling groceries out of the trunk. “What now?”

  As she was offering up a prayer that she wasn’t about to be embroiled in yet another legal drama, a lilting female voice behind her called, “Let me help you with those.”

  Jocelyn turned around to see a lithe middle-aged woman in cowboy boots and a pristine white T-shirt striding toward her. She had no idea who this lady was, but the newcomer had a bouncy blond ponytail swinging out the back opening of her baseball cap and the kind of tan that only came from working all day, every day in the sun.

  “I’ve got it,” Jocelyn insisted. “I don’t need any help.”

  “Too late.” The woman wrestled a pair of bags out of Jocelyn’s grip, beaming all the while. “Oh, you’ve got frozen food in here. Better get that inside before it melts.”

  “Yes, good point.” Jocelyn seized the opportunity to slip inside and lock the doors behind her. “If you’ll excuse me . . .”

  The woman adjusted her grip, shifting both bags to her left hand so she could offer Jocelyn her right. “Honey, I am being so rude and I apologize. Here you are in a puddle of melting ice cream and I haven’t even introduced myself.”

  “No worries.” Jocelyn tried to grab all the remaining bags at once so she wouldn’t have to come out here again. “I’ll just be—”

  “I’m Nora Sheridan.” The woman paused as if waiting for Jocelyn to make some sort of acknowledgment. “You must be Jocelyn. Liam’s told me so much about you.”

  Jocelyn almost dropped a bag of fresh peaches on the brick pavers. “You know Liam?”

  Nora laughed, full and throaty. “You could say that. I’m his mother.”

  Jocelyn took another look at Nora, trying to reconcile the woman’s warm, friendly vitality with Liam’s guarded reserve. How could those two be from the same family? Her confusion must have shown on her face, because Nora laughed again. “I know, I look much too young to have a son his age.”