Carol of the Bellskis (12 page)

“A breeze,” Seth said, lying while showing them to the door.

Sally seemed to know he was full of it, because she raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

Seth smiled reassuringly. “Not a problem at all. It's the least I could do.”

The second he shut the door, the latest catastrophe occurred.

It should have been obvious to him from the start. There has been a distant echo to Doctor

Mister's incessant barking that morning. But he hadn't registered this improvement until he saw

old Ben Berkowitz frantically searching the house.

“Doctor Mister!” he cried, opening cupboards, checking in rooms. He approached Seth

with a wild look in his eyes. “Seth, Doctor Mister is trapped somewhere!”

Seth tilted his head and listened. It sounded like Doctor Mister was beneath his feet. “Have

you checked outside?”

“Ah!” Ben clutched at his heart. “Don't say that! He could be eaten by eagles!”

Chaim Siegel made a face at that. “Wouldn't you be more worried about bears or bobcats?”

“Or wolves or coyotes,” Mendel Rosenbaum offered.

“Ah!” Ben collapsed in the lounge chair in front of the fireplace. “I can barely breathe. I'm

so worried!”

“Well, now that I'm an expert on missing persons,” Seth said, “let's see if we can apply our

newfound knowledge to dogs.” And with that he started a search of the property.

Lars, Sharon, Heidi, Ben, Rita, and Mendel joined in the search. Doctor Mister was found

almost immediately, his muffled but insistent yapping coming from under the house.

He had indeed gotten loose. And clearly followed something small into the crawl space.

“Doctor Mister!” Ben cried in through the hatch, desperate. “Why isn't he coming out?”

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“I can do it,” Seth said, moving to the hatchway. “I used to get our Weimaraner to come to

us all the time.” He called Doctor Mister's name, but the dog didn't come. Seth tried threats. Still

no luck. He scratched at the surface. He made meow sounds.

“You don't know what you're doing,” Lars said, crouching next to the hole with him.

“Here, let me do it.”

“Oh, you're a dog whisperer now?”

“I've trained dogs, you know,” Lars said.

“Who, Buddy, your golden retriever?” Seth scoffed. “Training a golden retriever to come

is like training a cockroach to survive a nuclear winter. It's automatic.”

Lars snorted. “So what makes you an expert?”

“I told you. I had a German dog growing up. They require expert trainers, since they listen

to you fifty percent of the time and the rest of the time they are calculating the pros and cons of

murdering you in your sleep.”

“Well, that's what you get for raising a German dog.”

“Ha-ha.” The two of them were on their hands and knees, calling Doctor Mister with

cheerful tones, excited tones, angry tones. Lars went inside and returned with a chicken leg,

which he pretended to eat loudly.

“You can't give a dog chicken bones!” Ben Berkowitz wailed.

“I'm not
giving
it to him; I'm
luring
him.” Lars ripped off a piece of skin and threw it into

the entrance. Nothing happened.

“This is terrible, terrible!” Ben Berkowitz cried.

“Get out here, or I'll sue you!” Lars shouted under the house. This made the Neidlich

sisters laugh, but Doctor Mister was unmoved.

Seth sighed. “Someone has to go under there and get him.”

One of the guests brought out a flashlight, as it was already getting dark. Ben tried to crawl

through the opening, but his stomach proved too great an obstacle for early-twentieth-century

design standards.

Seth cursed into the snow and grabbed the flashlight. “Fine. I'll do it.”

“If he bites you, I'll pay your expenses,” Ben told him.

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73

Seth rolled his eyes. “Wonderful. Look, just start the celebrations without me, all right? It's

almost dark.”

“We can wait,” Ben said, frantically staring into the dark hole from which his dog's barks

could be heard.

“No, we can't, or Rabbi Chaim is likely to give us another lecture, and I for one won't be

able to stand it.” Seth patted Ben's bulky, down-covered shoulder. “Don't worry. I'll get him out.”

Ben nodded sadly and went into the house.

“Do you want me to hold the flashlight?” Lars offered.

“There's another one in the kitchen drawer by the sink. Can you grab that?”

Lars ran inside, and Seth slithered through the cold entrance. Outside, the ground was

frozen and hard and cut at his jeans and puffy winter coat. But under the house, it was warm

enough to be muddy, and Seth felt his knees and elbows sink into the ground as he crawled,

using his arms, light swinging from side to side.

He paused for a moment. It was dark in here. The pipes overhead were very close.

Touching-his-head close.

It had been a long time since Seth had felt claustrophobic, but he did so now, fear washing

over him instantly, paralyzing him. The house could fall on him. He could get stuck like Doctor

Mister and die. He could run out of air.

“Seth?”

Lars's voice calmed Seth somewhat, and he inched forward. Lars shone the more powerful

flashlight into the hole and caught sight of movement and white hair. Seth aimed for the dog,

whose tail waved frantically. Doctor Mister panted, eyes wild and wide in fear. His collar was

caught on a water pipe, and the poor dog was nearly strangling himself trying to get free.

“Silly thing. What were you doing down here?” Seth whispered. “I found him!” he shouted

up to Lars. When he didn't get an answer, he shouted again.

Still no response.

“Lars? Are you out there?” he said, annoyed. He suddenly had the thought that his aunt

and uncle were down here in the crawl space.

“Lars!” Seth shouted.

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Astrid Amara

“I'm here, baby. Stay cool.” The voice was very close. Seth heard rustling and turned his

flashlight. Lars was crawling under the house with him.

“What are you doing?” Seth asked.

“Coming to rescue you,” Lars said. He shone his flashlight into his own face and grinned.

“You sounded panicked.”

“I wasn't panicked,” Seth said defensively. “I was just…not in the mood to be left alone.”

Seth scowled at Lars. Somehow, despite having just crawled under a house, Lars's clothes

remained spotless. He looked like a rosy-cheeked and cheerful model on an L.L. Bean catalog,

not an attorney under a house.

Lars kissed him. Seth couldn't think of a less romantic place to be kissed than in the spider-

filled, rat-shit-infested crawl space under a house, but Lars had a weird concept of romance.

“Feel better?” Lars whispered, breaking their kiss.

Seth felt cold, stunned, and in love, actually.

“Strangely, yeah,” Seth said with a little laugh. He shook his head. “But I never thought

spending a week with you would be so trying.”

“Think of it as intensive trial by fire.”

Seth rested his forehead against Lars's.

“Let's get the little bastard and get out of here.”

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Chapter Seven

“So what do you think about filing a petition for deferred prosecution in the Webster

case?” Lars asked.

He and Seth sat at Judi's kitchen table, hiding from the other guests and the tremendous

mess in the dining room. It was a sunny day, below freezing but clear, and everyone had eaten

quickly and rushed outside to enjoy the spectacular views. Lars had gone for a run and now

finally had a chance to eat his own breakfast. Seth sat with him, drinking his coffee, still amazed

that Lars was even here. It had been two days since Lars had answered his phone or checked his

e-mail, and it had been six days since he had last stepped foot in the Finch and Varga Law

Offices. Surely people had to have figured out what was going on by now?

Seth smiled at Lars's question, surprised and flattered that Lars would ask for his input.

“Well, let's see. The benefit is that he can get the company cleaned up and avoid prosecution,

assuming they can reform in time. And they can stay in operation.”

“Yeah.” Lars looked out the window, thinking.

“But he's admitting wrongdoing,” Seth added. “And they have to waive attorney-client

privilege, which leaves them vulnerable. So I wouldn't in this case.” Seth sipped his coffee. “If it

were up to me, that is.”

Lars's silent, studious profile made Seth uncomfortable. “Of course, I could be completely

off, but—”

“That's what I planned on telling him,” Lars said suddenly. “I'm glad we agree.”

“That's what you pay me the big bucks for, right?” Seth laughed, but Lars frowned.

“I'm just kidding, Lars.”

“Well, I'm not. I've been thinking about it.” Lars sipped his coffee and stared out Judi's

window at the frozen landscape. “I don't think I want you as our general office paralegal

anymore.”

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Seth felt instantly cold. Holy shit. Was Lars going to fire him?

Fury rushed through him, flushed his face red. Lars looked at him and scowled.

“I'm not going to fire you, dumb-ass; I'm giving you a raise. I want you to be my personal

paralegal, on a schooling track.”

“A…what?” Seth had been so ready to be furious, he didn't know how to respond to the

offer.

“You're smarter than Nancy or Rich in the office, and I know you have to do shit for them.

I'm tired of you taking on tasks that a receptionist can do, when your research skills are far

superior to anyone else's. Besides, no one works as hard as you do. So effective the end of your

vacation, I'm promoting you to my personal researcher.” Lars grinned. “Raise included.”

Seth didn't know what to say.

Lars watched him carefully. “Are you mad? Would you prefer I didn't take you all for

myself?”

“What? No. That's not it. I'm just surprised, that's all. Don't you think that's going to be

suspicious?”

Lars's jaw clenched. “Maybe.”

“What's a schooling track?” Seth asked to change the subject so Lars wouldn't change his

mind.

“It's something Finch and I set up years ago but never followed through on. We wanted to

start a schooling track for promising employees who were interested in getting fully educated

and licensed as attorneys. We'd pay for your education and allow you a flexible work schedule so

that you could study while working, and of course we'd pay your bar-exam fees, with the hope

that, once certified, you'd work for the firm.” Lars smiled. “We always liked the idea but never

found anyone we thought would be interested.” He looked at Seth. “I don't know if you're

interested. Maybe you don't want to be an attorney. But I want you to know the option is open to

you.”

Seth was dumbfounded. “I have to think about it.”

“Of course.”

“It's not… Lars, this isn't some sort of consolation prize, is it?”

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77

Lars scowled. “No! It's something I have wanted to do for a long time, but after our fight I

realized you probably think I want you gone, and that's not true.” He reached across the table,

and Seth took his hand.

Someone screamed outside.

Their hands dropped, and both of them stood. “What the hell was that?” Seth shouted,

grabbing his coat and forcing his feet into his boots.

“Help!”

Lars was out first, dashing into the snow in his socks. Seth joined him seconds later to see

Rita Rosenbaum flat on her back at the base of the stairs to the porch. Mendel Rosenbaum

crouched beside her head.

“Help!” he cried again, frantic.

“What happened?” Lars demanded, dropping to his knees beside Rita as well. “You all

right, Mrs. Rosenbaum?”

She was unconscious.

“She stepped on the bottom stair and slipped on the ice. She fell back and hit her head!”

Mendel said.

“I'll call an ambulance.” Seth rushed inside for his cell phone.

When he returned, Rita was conscious and trying to sit up.

“I'm fine, really.” She blinked at them, looking dazed.

“At least she's talking,” Lars said.

Seth looked at the icy, deadly stairs up to the B and B front door and slammed his fist

against the railing. “Damn it! I forgot that Carl deices every morning. This is my fault.”

Mendel looked about to cry. “Don't move, Rita; it could be serious.”

“Don't be silly; it's just a bump on the head!” Rita sat up slowly. There was no blood, and

when Lars and Mendel helped her to stand, she seemed all right.

“Don't bother with the ambulance, Seth; I'm fine,” Rita insisted. “I'll just go in and lie

down for a minute or two.” She blinked.

“No! You aren't supposed to take a nap after a head injury!” Mendel shouted. He helped

her over the icy steps.

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Lars followed, almost slipping in his socks. “Fuck. That's a lawsuit waiting to happen,” he

told Seth.

“Yeah. I get that.” He looked behind him. Mendel settled Rita in front of the fireplace.

“Keep an eye on her. I'm going to fix this before someone else cracks their head open.”