In Dog We Trust

by Beth Kendrick

  They headed out together, laden with lavender-scented sheets, as the sing-along segued to “Union of the Snake.”

  As she climbed into the passenger seat of Liam’s car, Jocelyn’s phone buzzed.

  “Hey, Bree. What’s up?”

  “What are you doing right now?” Bree sounded tense.

  Jocelyn frowned with concern. “Hanging out with Liam.”

  “Can you ditch him and meet me? I’m at a bar in Lewes called Davy’s Dive.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah.” Bree cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  “Okay, I’m leaving in two minutes. What’s going on?”

  “I’ll tell you when you get here. Come alone, and hurry up.”

  chapter 32

  “ Thanks for meeting me here and not asking any questions.”

  “No problem.” Jocelyn glanced around at the bar, which featured straw wrappers and bottle caps strewn about the sticky floor tiles, and drink specials with names like “Sand in the Crack.” “Can I ask questions now?”

  “In a second. I have good news and bad news.” Bree patted the barstool next to her. “Which do you want first?”

  “Good news.” Jocelyn sat down and glanced at the menu.

  “The good news is, I’ve decided what to do about Dan, Krysten, and the peer counselor.” Bree cradled a mug of coffee with both hands. “I was up all night, tossing and turning and weighing my options.”

  “And?”

  “Bottom line: There are lots of cowardly ways to tell Dan what’s going on.” Bree paused to slug back the rest of the coffee. “I mean, we’ve all seen this play out on TV, right? I could leave a note in his mailbox. I could threaten Krysten to tell him or I will.”

  “But you’re not going to do that?”

  “No.” Bree put down the empty mug and sighed. “Because, when I actually look at my behavior here, I’m not proud of myself. I’ve crossed a few lines.”

  “I did, too,” Jocelyn admitted.

  Bree lifted her chin in determination. “Dan deserves better than what he’s getting from Krysten, but he also deserves better than what he’s getting from me. He deserves honesty, transparency, and accountability.”

  Jocelyn blinked. “Well. That’s very mature of you.”

  “I’m trying.” Bree glanced longingly at the array of liquor bottles lined up behind the cash register. “A shot of Bailey’s would make this easier, but I need my wits about me. Dan will be here any minute.”

  “Dan’s meeting you here?”

  “Yeah, I called him and told him I needed to talk to him about something.”

  “Why here?” Jocelyn pressed. “Why not someplace that meets health code standards? Was this your secret rendezvous spot in high school or something?”

  “No, I’ve never been here before. That’s the point. We have no memories here and I won’t be back, so it’s not like I’m tainting a coffee shop I visit regularly.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Yeah. I noticed this place yesterday when I was driving through town, and I thought, there’s a good place for the truth to come out.” Bree indicated the booth on the other side of the bar. “Can you go sit over there before he shows up?”

  “You invited me here to make me sit somewhere else?” Jocelyn glanced at the booth’s worn and torn upholstery. “That’s not very friendly.”

  “I need you here for moral support. Since Dan’s probably going to hate me and all, I thought it’d be nice if you could help scrape me off the floor afterwards.” Bree caught the bartender’s eye. “Hi! We’ll have two more cups of coffee, please.”

  “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think,” Jocelyn said. “Maybe he’ll be grateful you told him. Maybe he’ll realize that he’s loved you all along.”

  “That also only happens in Hollywood. But I have to do this.” Bree set her jaw. “Even though I really, really, really don’t want to.”

  “Let me do it,” Jocelyn urged. “I’ll say it was me who hunted Krysten down. I’ll tell him I acted alone.”

  Bree peered at her with supreme skepticism. “What would your motivation for all that be?”

  “Uh . . .”

  “Exactly. Everyone involved in this whole steaming sewer pipe of a mess has lied and evaded enough. There is truth to be told, and I’m telling it.” Bree checked her phone. “He’ll be here any minute.”

  “I’ll be over here.” Jocelyn pointed to the booth across the bar. “Question: What if he notices me?”

  “Here.” Bree picked up a discarded newspaper from a nearby stool. “Read this. Hold it so it covers your face.”

  “Stealthy.”

  “Oh wait.” Bree snatched back the newspaper. “Before you go, what’s happening with Liam?”

  “We had a long talk with Nora about the lawsuit and why he was filing it, and I think we’ve worked out an arrangement that lets everyone get what they want.”

  “What? So you’re not archenemies who can’t help succumbing to the passion between you?”

  “Nah. We’re business partners who are going to succumb to the passion between us with no qualms whatsoever.”

  Bree stuck out her tongue. “Boring.” She made shooing motions as she spotted Dan through the bar’s front window. “Go, go, go!”

  Jocelyn went, sequestering herself in the booth and shielding herself with the sports section. She heard, rather than saw, Dan sit down at the bar with Bree, and strained her ears to pick up every word above the low, mournful twang emanating from the jukebox.

  Bree had never been one for idle chitchat and today was no different.

  “Dan,” Bree said as soon as his back pockets hit the vinyl seat, “let me ask you something. Have you ever watched a Lifetime movie?”

  Dan laughed. “Hello to you, too. What’s going on?”

  “Anything else to drink, hon?”

  Jocelyn startled as a waitress peered over the top edge of her newspaper. “Just some more coffee, please.”

  The waitress glanced at the seat Jocelyn had just vacated, but didn’t remark on her relocation. “You want me to bring you a new cup?”

  “Yes, please.”

  By the time the waitress departed, coffee carafe in hand, Bree was getting to the good stuff:

  “What would you say if I had a premonition that day I read palms at Krysten’s shower?”

  Dan didn’t hesitate. “I’d believe you.”

  This threw Bree off. “You would?”

  “Sure. Remember that time in high school when you told me that Mr. Turner was going to have a heart attack in the middle of the final exam? And then he did?”

  “Could’ve been a lucky guess.”

  “You’ve always had something special,” he said. “Everybody could see it but you.”

  There was a long pause. Jocelyn shifted, crinkling the newsprint, wishing she could whirl around and check out Bree’s face.

  Finally, Bree replied, “Yeah, about that. I have to tell you something.”

  “Okay.” Dan made a big show of bracing himself . . . just as the door to the bar swung inward. Krysten and Brian strolled in, holding hands.

  Dan’s eyes widened. Bree froze. Jocelyn’s phone rang, blaring a merry digital tune. She seized the phone behind her flimsy paper shield and answered in a whisper. “Hi, Mom, I’m right in the middle of something. Can I call you back?”

  “No need.” Her mother’s voice sounded distant and tinny. There was a distinct rushing sound on her end of the line, like wind through open car windows. “I just wanted to let you know we’re leaving for a few days.”

  “Leaving for where?” Jocelyn asked. “And who’s we?”

  “Nora and I.” Rachel stated this as though it were the most obvious conclusion in the world. “We’re taking a road trip.”r />
  “Is this a joke?”

  “No. She mentioned that there’s a great Duran Duran cover band at a casino in Connecticut, and one thing led to another, and next thing you know, we jumped in my car.”

  “Hi, Joss!” Nora’s voice chimed in from afar.

  Jocelyn hunched down in the booth, trying to hold her phone and the newspaper simultaneously. “You’re just up and going to Connecticut? What about your back? What about your hip?”

  “Don’t make me sound so old,” Rachel admonished. “I’ll be fine. Nora’s doing all the driving. I’m the DJ.”

  “Did you even pack?” Jocelyn asked.

  “Who’s the mom here, you or me?” Rachel shot back.

  “When are you coming back?”

  “When we’re done.” Rachel sounded exhilarated.

  Jocelyn digested this for a moment. “You’re going to call me from jail tonight, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll call Liam instead.” Both moms cracked up.

  Jocelyn had no idea what else to say except: “Thanks for letting me know. Have a good time.”

  “Oh, we will.” And in a flurry of laughter and life, Rachel clicked off. If it hadn’t been for Caller ID, Jocelyn wouldn’t have recognized her own mother. Rachel didn’t do anything reckless or spontaneous. She didn’t talk to strangers, and she certainly didn’t road-trip with them on a whim.

  Until now, apparently.

  Meanwhile, things were heating up at the bar.

  “What are you doing here?” Krysten was demanding, her voice shrill.

  “I asked you first,” Dan shot back.

  Brian was nowhere to be seen.

  “I don’t know what you’re accusing me of, but it’s not what it looks like,” Krysten said. “I can explain.”

  Jocelyn waited for Dan’s response, the newsprint crinkling as she clutched the paper in suspense.

  But all she could discern of his response was a low, dark-toned murmur. She wanted to turn around to read the body language but didn’t dare. And then, with his ball cap low on his brow and ramrod posture, Dan strode out of the bar. He didn’t look back or make eye contact with anyone. He left with his fists jammed into his pockets and his head held high. Krysten trailed after him, still protesting her innocence.

  Jocelyn threw down the paper, shoved out of her booth, and slid back onto the barstool next to Bree. “What was that?”

  Bree’s expression was shell-shocked. “I don’t know.”

  “Tell me everything. I only heard the beginning because my mom called and I thought there might be an emergency.” She waved all this away. “Start talking.”

  “You pretty much saw all you needed to see. The only big thing you missed was Brian fleeing the scene like a criminal caught in the act.”

  “Dan looked so hurt,” Jocelyn said.

  “Yeah, but he didn’t look surprised, did he?” Bree drained the last dregs of her second cup of coffee.

  “Hmm. I guess not.”

  “He said a few things . . . I don’t think that this is the first time Krysten’s done this.”

  “Then why would he propose to her?” Jocelyn asked.

  “We didn’t have time to get into a long, detailed psychoanalysis,” Bree said drily.

  Jocelyn thought about the people in her life who she’d desperately hoped wouldn’t let her down . . . right before they let her down. “Poor guy.”

  “What are the odds, though?” Bree smoothed out the creases in a paper napkin. “I mean, I picked this place at random. How is it possible that Krysten and Brian showed up at the exact time Dan and I did?”

  “Gee. Maybe we should ask your grandmother for some insight on that.”

  “I feel awful.” Bree dropped her forehead into her hands. “It’s like I had this burden of truth, and I shifted it from me to Dan, and now he has to lug it around.”

  “But it’s still the truth,” Jocelyn said. “What else could you have done?”

  “So many things.” Bree closed her eyes. “But this is for the best. The prospect of having to admit to Dan’s face that I surveilled his cheating fiancée in a black SUV is enough to get me to leave this town forever. The shame has set me free. Philadelphia, here I come.”

  Jocelyn decided that this was not the right time to remind Bree that Dan was moving to Philadelphia, too.

  “Well, what’s done is done.” Jocelyn tossed a twenty-dollar bill down on the table. “Let’s get out of here. Want to go to the Jilted Café and get some coffee that doesn’t taste like mop water?”

  “No, thanks. I have to go curl up in the fetal position for the next few days.”

  “Come over to my place,” Jocelyn offered. “Go fetal in style.”

  “No. Solitary confinement is the only way.”

  “You can have it,” Jocelyn promised. “The blue toile bedroom is all yours. You can close the door and no one will bother you. Just text me every time you want me to leave some food outside your door.”

  “I can’t.” But Bree lacked conviction.

  Jocelyn upped the ante. “Text me every time you want me to leave a bottle of booze outside your door.”

  “All right, all right. But it’ll have to be booze I don’t like. I’m doing penance.”

  “Then look forward to your peach schnapps.”

  “Peach schnapps.” Bree recoiled. “Hang on—it’s not like I murdered someone.”

  They gathered their bags and stepped out of the darkened bar and into the sunny, sea-breeze-scented afternoon. Bree’s spirits lifted for a moment—and then panic took over.

  “Come on.” She took Jocelyn’s hand and dragged her toward the car. “Move it along.”

  “What?” Jocelyn glanced around in confusion, then realized that Dan and Krysten were seated right across the street on a wooden bench. They were in the midst of what could be tactfully described as a “heated discussion.” Hands were waving, tears were flowing, voices were raised.

  They both stopped arguing long enough to stare directly at Bree. Jocelyn clicked the button on her key fob to unlock the car, and they dove inside.

  Bree hunched down in her seat. “Drive.”

  Jocelyn jammed the key into the ignition and revved the engine.

  “Drive more subtly.”

  “I’m trying.” Jocelyn pulled out of the parking lot and didn’t glance back.

  “Ugh.” Bree sounded as though she was going to be sick at any moment. “That was . . .”

  “Yeah.”

  “I feel . . .”

  “Yeah.”

  Bree pressed her fingers to her temples. “I’m never, ever going to do anything like this again.”

  “Me, neither,” Jocelyn agreed.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to face him again,” Bree said. “Or her. Or anyone.”

  “It won’t always be this awkward, I swear.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do. You did the right thing. It sucks right now, but it’ll be okay. Everything will work out in the end.”

  Bree scoffed. “I wish I could believe you.”

  “You can. Life is about to get so much better.” Jocelyn’s sunny optimism dimmed when she turned into her driveway and an unfamiliar man materialized next to her car.

  He established eye contact and knocked on the window.

  “Gun it,” Bree ordered. “Run him over if necessary.”

  But Jocelyn had already lowered her window a few inches. “What?”

  “Are you Jocelyn Hillier?”

  Jocelyn knew exactly what would be coming in the aftermath of the question. But she also knew there was no point in trying to escape. “That’s me.” She lowered the window farther and held out her hand.

  There was a dry slapping sound as the envelope hit her palm.

 
“You’ve been served.”

  chapter 33

  “Dear lord, what now?” Bree took a swig of peach schnapps straight from the bottle and offered it to Jocelyn, who managed a tiny sip before gagging.

  “I can’t believe this.” Jocelyn’s rage mounted with every sentence she read. “That conniving, two-faced traitor.”

  “You’ll have to be more specific.”

  “Lois Gunther. The dog handler.” Jocelyn’s chest tightened. “She’s actually doing it. She’s suing for custody of the dogs.”

  “Dog custody? Is that even a thing?”

  “Her lawyer seems to think so.”

  “On what grounds?” Bree demanded. “You’re the best dog owner I know.”

  “Lois disagrees.” Jocelyn kept reading through the complaint. “Oh, this is interesting. She doesn’t just want the dogs. She wants the full benefit of being the dogs’ guardian.”

  Bree gasped. “She’s coming for your beach house!”

  “Looks like it. She wants the house, the stipend, all the entitlements.” Jocelyn put the papers aside. “This is a money grab.”

  “Call your lawyer,” Bree advised. “Now.”

  “I had no idea being rich was so much work.” Jocelyn picked up the phone. “I thought it’d be all bonbons and spa days. Turns out, it’s nothing but phone calls and lawsuits.”

  Bree coughed and put aside the schnapps. “Start dialing, moneybags.”

  “I’ll dial, but this is a triage situation. Before I call the lawyer, I have to call Liam.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “I’m freaking out.” Jocelyn met Liam at the front door of his rental house with a copy of the legal documents.

  “Don’t freak out.” He leaned in for a kiss. “Why do you smell like peach schnapps?”

  “Bree and I were punishing ourselves earlier today.”

  “You must have done something really bad.”

  Jocelyn summarized the fiasco at Davy’s Dive. “As you can imagine, Dan didn’t take it very well. He and Krysten had a huge fight. And then I got served with this.” She handed him the papers.

  He skimmed the first two pages of the complaint. “Come in and you’ll get served with lasagna.”