In Dog We Trust

by Beth Kendrick

  After nearly forty-five minutes of running, Jocelyn’s mood improved and her mind cleared. She headed back toward the beach house with renewed energy and optimism, confident that whatever little plot twist life threw at her next, she was ready. She was smart, she was capable, and she had legal possession of this house and its contents. She was in control here.

  As she started up the sloping dune toward the back patio, the dogs strained at the leashes, whining and yelping.

  “What’s up, guys?” Jocelyn asked. “Aren’t you tired out yet? I am.”

  As soon as she slid open the back door, she identified the source of their consternation. Eighties pop music was blasting from the kitchen, glasses were clinking, pots and pans were clattering, and . . . was that Bree’s voice?

  “What are you doing here?” Jocelyn demanded when she dashed into the kitchen to find her best friend, Liam, and Nora chopping vegetables and sautéing chicken.

  “You can’t just call me and yell ‘peer counselor’ and not expect some follow-up.” Bree popped a cube of tomato into her mouth. “I called you like fifty times.”

  “I didn’t have my phone with me.” Jocelyn retrieved it from her purse and started to untether the dogs. She shot a sidelong glance at Bree, who was glancing sidelong at Liam. “Don’t bond with him.”

  “I’m not,” Bree promised. “I’m bonding with Nora here. I’m about ready to buy a big shiny belt buckle and move out to the ranch.”

  “You really should come down,” Nora yelled over the sizzle from the sauté pan. “Both of you. Come in the spring, during calf season.”

  Liam appeared at Jocelyn’s elbow, smelling of black pepper and paprika. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Not so fast,” Bree said. “You want to talk to her? Take a number, pal, there’s a line.” She raised her eyebrow at Jocelyn. “Peer counselor. Start talking.”

  “Peer counselor?” Liam glanced at Jocelyn for clarification.

  “Yeah, that’s who the bride we’ve been surveilling is two-timing her fiancé with.” Bree moved her knife in a circle, indicating they should move this story along. “Right?”

  “I ran into them in the grocery store parking lot,” Jocelyn said. She summarized the introductions and the awkward tension. “I mean, I can’t swear under oath that there’s something shady going on, but it didn’t look good.”

  “It didn’t look good when they were kissing outside her house, either.” Bree’s eyes darkened. “How can she do this to Dan? She has no idea how lucky she is.”

  “Who’s Dan, again?” Nora was gamely trying to keep up with the story.

  “A brilliant, handsome doctor who takes care of sick children.” Bree clicked her tongue.

  Jocelyn turned to Nora. “Bree’s a little bit in love with Dan.”

  “I’m picking up on that. How long has the bride-to-be been together with the brilliant, handsome doctor?” Nora wanted to know. “When’s the wedding? And why do they have a peer counselor?”

  While Bree explained the backstory to Nora, Liam pulled Jocelyn aside. “Let’s talk.”

  chapter 28

  Jocelyn followed Liam into the formal dining room, where they each pulled out a heavy hardwood chair at the oval table. Everything in here was polished and Windexed to a glossy sheen, from the windows to the European porcelain to the tabletop. Jocelyn felt like she was sitting down in the Palace of Versailles for a treaty meeting.

  “Fajitas are getting cold,” she told him.

  “You heard those two—they’re not going to eat dinner anytime soon.”

  “I wasn’t expecting Bree to drop by,” Jocelyn said.

  “I wasn’t expecting my mother to drop by, either.”

  “But they did.” Jocelyn spread out her hands. “And you did. Now what?”

  “We have a lot to talk about.” His dark eyes flashed.

  “I don’t. No offense, but you’re a plague on my life.” She took a moment, then added, “Actually, you can go ahead and take offense.”

  “I’m not the enemy, Jocelyn.” He lifted his chin to indicate his mother. “I don’t want to take anything from you. I want to give back what was always hers.”

  “Motivation doesn’t matter.” Jocelyn shrugged one shoulder. “Outcome matters. And your desired outcome is kicking me and the dogs out of our rightful home.”

  He regarded her for a moment before opening his mouth again. “I told you, it’s not p—”

  “If you say it’s not personal, I’ll throw you out the back door and into the ocean.”

  “Fine. It is personal, and it’s not right.” He held her gaze while he admitted this. “But the ranch is up for sale and I don’t have enough cash to cover the whole down payment right now. Bids are due at the end of the month.”

  Jocelyn looked around at the crystal and antiques and imported marble. “Believe it or not, I understand what you’re doing. I’d do the same thing for my mom.”

  He waited for her to finish the thought.

  “But my mom is staying here, too. She took the shuttle to Dover for two days of orthopedic appointments, but she’ll be back. As much as you want to keep the ranch for your mom, I want to keep this place for mine. There is no moral high ground here.” She pushed her chair back from the table. “There’s only what’s written in the will. Nothing personal.”

  “Joss.” His gaze softened. “I don’t want to take you to court.”

  “Awww.” She pretended to swoon. “Flatterer.”

  “There are other ways to resolve this,” Liam said. “If we work together.”

  “Working together.” She scoffed. “What could go wrong?”

  “Hear me out,” he urged. “The reason I focused on this house is it’s worth a lot of money. The mortgage is paid off and the land is well situated. But I don’t actually want to live here.”

  She nodded, waiting for him to continue.

  “You want to keep living here and I want enough liquid assets to buy the ranch.” He leaned back in his chair as though surveying a room full of potential investors. “Both of us can have what we want.”

  Jocelyn rested her chin on her hand. “You want me to take out an equity loan?”

  “Short-term,” he said.

  “But why would I do that?” she asked. “I hate your guts.”

  He didn’t even blink. “Yeah, but you like money at least as much as you hate me, right?”

  “Eh.”

  “We’d go through the bank and sign all the legal documents. I’ll pay you back every penny, plus interest.”

  She mulled this over. “That seems reasonable, assuming the co-trustee will cooperate.”

  “Who’s the co-trustee?” Liam produced his phone, ready to Google.

  “Some high-powered lawyer in Virginia. I can’t remember her name offhand.”

  “She’ll probably approve if you tell her you’re in favor. It ultimately benefits the estate, especially if the interest rate is better than what you’d get from a commercial lender.”

  Jocelyn was shocked to realize that she was actually considering this. For Nora’s sake, not for Liam’s, obviously. But still. “Why didn’t you just ask me about this in the first place?”

  He finally shifted his gaze down to the table. “It’s possible I was a little angry.”

  “With me?”

  “With my father. Even though he’s dead.” Liam sounded more uncomfortable—and more honest—than she’d ever heard him. “Especially because he’s dead.”

  “That, I understand.” Jocelyn reached out to rest her fingers on his wrist.

  He nodded. Neither one of them wanted to keep going with this topic.

  Jocelyn pulled her hand away. “Look at us, pretending to be adults.”

  He reached out and recaptured her hand. “My father got one thing right, at least. You deserve to live
here. No one else could care for the dogs like you do.”

  She slid her fingers to the inside of his wrist. “Are you sure you don’t want to try to seduce me out of it one more time?”

  He leaned forward. “We can work together on that, too.”

  Her body reacted as though she’d just downed two shots of vodka. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled away, shoved his chair back, and stood up. “Get your purse. We’re going out.”

  She shoved her chair back, too. “Moonlit stroll with the dogs? Romantic stakeout for two?”

  He laughed. “I was thinking more like dinner and drinks.”

  “It’s the least you can do, considering you had me served with legal papers at the crack of dawn.”

  He yelled toward the kitchen, “Hey, guys? Go ahead and eat without us.”

  The chatter and clatter in the kitchen hushed for a moment, and Jocelyn knew that Bree was whispering to Nora about the state of affairs between Liam and herself. Then, after a minute or two, the sounds of dishes being placed on a marble counter commenced. “Will do!” Bree called. “Have fun, you crazy kids.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jocelyn ducked her head to hide a grin. “We will.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Three hours later, Jocelyn and Liam returned to the beach house with a rough draft of a lending agreement and a doggie bag full of leftovers that would literally go to the dogs.

  They opened the front door as Bree was preparing to leave. She paused, one arm into her hoodie, and gave them both a good once-over, noting the take-out bag, fistful of papers, and starry eyes. “I see dinner was a success.”

  “I’m going to be rich,” Jocelyn informed her. “Richer than I already am.”

  “I’m going to be a rancher,” Liam added. “Again.”

  “I’m going home to bed.” Bree didn’t bother trying to cover her yawn. “Liam, your mother is a hell-raiser. I like it.”

  He looked around the dark, quiet rooms. “Where is she?”

  “Sleeping. We partied hard until eight, and then she hit the wall. She was falling asleep at the kitchen table. I put her in one of the guest rooms.” Bree turned to Jocelyn. “The one with the green quilt and all the pictures of conch shells.”

  “I can drive her to my house,” Liam offered.

  “No, no, it’s fine.” Jocelyn waved this away. “Let her sleep. We’ve got plenty of room. Bree, you’re welcome to stay, too, if you like.”

  “Nah, I’m heading home.” Bree slid on the other sleeve of her sweatshirt.

  “You can take your pick of rooms,” Jocelyn offered. “I know how you like the one with the blue toile.”

  “Tempting, but I’ll pass. I’ve got to go unclog a garbage disposal first thing in the morning. I want my own coffeemaker and my own crappy play clothes in the morning.” She explained to Liam, “When I say ‘play clothes,’ I mean ‘work clothes.’”

  “Call me if you need help,” Jocelyn said. “I love a good garbage disposal unclogging.”

  “We love a good garbage disposal unclogging,” Liam corrected.

  “‘We.’” Bree smirked. “Look at you two. Offering to unclog a disposal together. When did you stop wanting to murder each other for real estate purposes?”

  “Stop it.” Jocelyn shook her head. “No one wants to murder anyone.”

  “Yeah, we were both just hoping the other one would get abducted by aliens.”

  Bree scrunched her nose in disgust. “Get a room.”

  Jocelyn held the doggie bag up high as Curtis scented steak and came running. “Did you and Nora come up with a plan for dealing with Krysten, Dan, and the peer counselor?”

  “We discussed it,” Bree replied. “At length. The problem is, there’s no good way to explain all this to Dan without incriminating myself.”

  “Really.” Jocelyn quirked a brow. “Why’s that, do you suppose?”

  Bree ignored her and told Liam, “The best option we’ve got right now is an anonymous letter, but that lacks credibility.”

  “You could stay out of it,” Liam suggested.

  “Staying out of it isn’t really my style.” Bree fished her car keys out of her pocket. “I’ll keep you posted.” She opened the door and stepped out into the humid night air. “And I might call you in the morning, depending on how horrific the disposal turns out to be.”

  “Cool. The only thing I’ve got scheduled is an appointment with a family who’s been promised one of Hester’s puppies,” Jocelyn said. “They’re a big deal in the Labrador world. They get the pick of the litter.”

  “Have fun. And just FYI, we left half a bottle of wine in the kitchen. I have no idea what kind it is, but I took it from Mr. Allardyce’s stash from the cellar. The man might have been stingy with his employees, but he was willing to splurge on the vino. It’s red, it’s French, and it goes down smooth like silk.” With that, Bree disappeared into the night.

  “With a sales pitch like that, I guess we should taste it.” Jocelyn led the way to the kitchen, which was immaculately clean. All the pots, dishes, flatware, and glassware had been washed, wiped, and put away. The only trace of the earlier meal was the faint smell of spices. “This is what happens when Bree comes over for dinner. When your job is cleaning up after other people’s messes, you tend to be rabidly neat in your own house.”

  “My mom is the same.” Liam uncorked the bottle of Bordeaux on the counter. “Everything in its place, all the time.”

  “She seems pretty amazing,” Jocelyn said.

  “I can wake her up and drive her back to my place,” Liam offered again. “It’s no trouble.”

  “Let her sleep.” Jocelyn pulled out two wineglasses. “She’s exhausted from traveling. You should stay over, too.”

  “Done,” he said before she’d even finished the sentence.

  She noted the speculative gleam in his eyes and clarified, “In a guest room. I don’t sleep with people I’m doing business with.”

  He grinned, his eyes still gleaming. “Then I guess we’ll both have something to look forward to when we wrap up this deal.”

  chapter 29

  Jocelyn awakened early the next morning to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Even over the hum of the ceiling fan, she could hear the soothing sound of the surf pounding on the shore. She eased out of bed, careful not to disturb any of the slumbering guest room occupants, and headed downstairs in her bare feet.

  The first floor of the house was quiet—too quiet. Where was all the barking and whining? Where was the customary breakfast riot? She quickened her pace as she approached the kitchen, which turned out to be empty. All the dogs were MIA, even Hester and her puppies.

  With a mounting sense of alarm, Jocelyn checked the laundry room, the mudroom, the living room and dining room—all empty. She grabbed her cell phone, debating. Should she call 911? And if she did, what was the appropriate answer to “What’s your emergency, ma’am?”

  An intruder made off with a whole pack of giant, slobbering Labs that would willingly go with anyone with a biscuit in their pocket. Right after he brewed coffee.

  While her fingers were still hovering above the screen in indecision, she heard Curtis’s deep, booming bark through the triple-paned window. She raced out to the deck and followed the canine noises to the pine bluff by the edge of the beach.

  Nora had set up an artist’s colony for one in the sand. Somehow, she’d managed to rustle up a sketchbook and pastels, plus two sawhorses and a large plywood board to rest everything on. She wore an elegantly draped pink robe and her white baseball cap. The dogs were strewn about at her feet in various states of relaxation. Curtis and Carmen were sitting and Hester was sprawled on a sand dune with her puppies.

  “Good morning!” Nora waved when she saw Jocelyn. “Isn’t it beautiful out here?”

  Jocelyn squinted in
the piercing morning sunlight. “It’s . . . early.”

  “I hope I didn’t wake you.” Nora frowned in concentration as she selected a dark blue pastel. “I tried to be quiet, but this crew makes it hard to be stealthy.”

  “No, you were quiet,” Jocelyn assured her. “I almost had a heart attack when I got down there and everyone was gone. But then I figured a hardened dog-napper probably wouldn’t make coffee.”

  “I made orange juice, too. Squeezed it fresh from the oranges in the bowl. It’s in the glass pitcher in the fridge.”

  “You’ve already done more than I’m going to do all day,” Jocelyn marveled.

  “I’m an early riser. Can’t help it—all those years of getting up with the sun on the ranch.” Nora gazed into the distance and smiled.

  “You love the ranch,” Jocelyn said. It was more an observation than a question.

  “Yes.” Nora returned her focus to her artwork. “I don’t need to own it, but I’d hate to leave.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have to. Liam and I got to talking last night, and I think—well, I hope—we’ve found a way for me to keep the house and you to get the ranch back.”

  “Is that what you two were doing last night?” Nora’s tone was teasing. “Talking?”

  “For now.” Jocelyn tilted her head, examining Nora’s seascape-in- progress. “You really have talent.”

  Nora glanced up, her expression almost rebuking. “You’re too kind. I dabble.”

  “Liam said you studied art.”

  “It’s true.” Nora laughed. “I spent my summers studying the masters in Paris, London, New York . . . and look where it’s gotten me.”

  “There are lots of art fairs out here in the summer,” Jocelyn said. “Have you ever considered selling your pieces?”

  “Lord, no. No one would pay for this, and I wouldn’t dream of asking them to.” Nora put down the blue pastel.

  “I’d pay for it.”

  “Then, darling, you can have it. I’ll mail it to you when I’m finished.” Nora’s eyes sparkled beneath the brim of her white cap. “I like the poetic justice of it—one of my drawings hanging in Peter’s house. He’d hate that.”