Authors: Laurien Berenson
Dog Eat Dog (10 page)
“What about Sharon?” I asked.
“What about her?”
“If she and Louis have been breeding together for all that time, presumably she's as knowledgeable as he is. Doesn't she want to judge, too?”
“You know,” Aunt Peg said thoughtfully. “I have no idea. Judging is the sort of intellectual exercise that appeals a great deal to some people and not at all to others. Louis has always seemed to be the brains of that pair. Not that Sharon might not be smart, I really don't know her well enough to say one way or the other. But she's always played the supporting role.”
“She certainly supported him at the meeting when he had to explain about the missing checks.”
“Precisely. You get the impression that whatever Louis is doing, you'll always find Sharon standing two steps behind. She's the perfect corporate wifeâgood at small talk and totally non-controversial. Both of them are highly respected. Which makes this business about the dinner checks seem all the odder.”
She slanted me a look. “By the way, I thought you were going to look into that.”
I'd been hoping she wouldn't remember. “I was thinking about it. Then Monica's murder put the whole thing right out of my mind.”
“Maybe they're connected,” Aunt Peg said hopefully. “Then you could solve both problems at once.”
Her belief in my abilities was gratifying. It was also self-serving, manipulative and hopelessly naive. But it had the intended effect. As long as she kept prodding me, I'd keep asking questions.
When we got back to the set-up, Aunt Peg decided to band Hope's ears, take her home and undo the rest there. Davey and I helped her pack up her car and we all left.
It was just as well we hadn't made a day of it at the dog show. Bob had said to expect him in the late afternoon; but as usual, his timing was off.
When we pulled into the driveway, there was already a car there. A cherry red Trans-Am, with an irate ex-husband leaning against the hood.
Thirteen
He hadn't changed much.
He still had the same lanky build and casual grace I'd always admired. And I remembered those dark brown eyes, fringed by a row of even darker lashes. The laugh lines were new, creasing either side of his mouth. On him, they looked good.
Bob had been leaning stiff-legged against the hood of his car, booted feet crossed at the ankles, arms similarly crossed over his chest. You didn't have to be a psychologist to read those signals. As the Volvo coasted to a stop, he levered himself up.
Davey had been staring with rapt fascination at the bright red Trans-Am. Now he seemed to notice Bob for the first time. “Wow,” he said. “Who's that?”
“He's your father.”
Silence. I'd expected screaming. Judging by the response I'd gotten earlier, I'd thought Davey would launch himself from the car and wrap his arms around Bob's legs. But now that the time had finally come to meet his father, my son was feeling shy.
“Let's get out,” I said.
But Bob was already there. He opened Davey's door and leaned his head inside. I saw him start to reach for his son, then hesitate. If I wasn't such a cynic, I'd have sworn there were tears in his eyes.
“Davey?” He swallowed heavily. “I'm your Dad.”
“I know.” Davey's tone was matter-of-fact, but he still hadn't moved.
“Do I get a hug?”
Davey thought about that. He looked away and made a show of unfastening his seat belt. Then, when Bob withdrew, Davey climbed past him and out of the car. Standing beside his father, he looked up.
“You're pretty tall,” he said.
“So are you.” Bob knelt beside him and held out his arms. “How about that hug?”
Decision made, Davey threw himself forward. An embrace like that would have knocked me over, but Bob stood firm. He wrapped his arms around my sonâaround his sonâand held on tight.
I got out and slammed my car door. Just for effect.
The two of them broke apart. Bob walked over and fished through a worn canvas back-pack he'd left sitting on the ground.
“Look what I brought.” He held out a shiny toy car that looked much like the Trans-Am sitting in the driveway. “Do you like cars?”
“Wow!” cried Davey, snatching it away. In seconds, he was zooming it down the driveway.
I watched, not happily. It was flat out bribery. Not only that, but it was working.
Inside the house, Faith was jumping on the front door, barking to be let out. As Davey came zooming back, he heard her, too. “Hey!” he cried. “We have a dog, a real live Standard Poodle. Want to see?”
“Sure.” Bob grinned. “Where is he?”
“It's a she, and her name is Faith. She's in the house.”
“Here Davey.” I handed him the keys. “Why don't you let her out for a run in the backyard first? Bob and I ... Your father and I will be along in a minute.”
“Okay!” Holding his new car carefully, Davey snatched the key-ring and ran for the steps.
That left the two of us. Standing there. Staring at each other. It wasn't until that moment that I realized that on some level, I'd been half afraid that there'd still be some sort of a spark.
There wasn't. I held out my hand. “Hi, Bob.”
“Mel!”
He ignored my outstretched hand. Two long steps was all it took and I found myself wrapped in Bob's arms just as Davey had been. Maybe with his convenient memory, my ex-husband had forgotten how we parted, but I certainly hadn't. I stood stiffly until he let me go.
“Yes, well ...” He stepped back awkwardly. “It's been a long time.”
“Years,” I said succinctly.
To my surprise, Bob had the grace to blush. I felt myself softening. “How did you know about the toy car?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Davey loves cars. You brought him his favorite thing.”
“Lucky guess,” Bob said, shrugging. “I was nuts about them when I was his age.”
Father and son. Maybe even after all this time apart, the bond was stronger than I had guessed. Or cared to admit.
An uncomfortable silence fell. We were on my turf. I figured that meant I didn't have to break it.
Left to his own devices, Bob cast around and settled on the first thing he saw. “Don't tell me you're still driving this old heap.” He patted the Volvo's worn gray fender. “You got that car when you were in college and it wasn't new then.”
I knew he was fumbling. A nicer ex-wife would have helped him out. Maybe one who hadn't been abandoned with a ten month old child.
“As opposed to what?” I let my gaze drift in the direction of his shiny sports car. “Something like that, maybe?”
He swallowed and I knew he saw the trap coming. It still didn't stop him from putting his foot in it. “Well, yeah.”
“Cars like that cost money, Bob.” I smiled sweetly. “So does food. Sometimes it's all a matter of priorities.”
“Give me a break.”
He looked up at the small cape behind me, yellow with green shutters. They were white when he lived here, but I'd since taken them down and repainted them. I'd also planted a new row of rhododendron bushes out front. Neither improvement totally disguised the fact that the house itself needed painting and the driveway was beginning to crack.
“I left you the house,” said Bob, working hard to sound like an aggrieved good Samaritan.
“You left me the mortgage.”
“You had a job.”
“Part-time.”
“And a graduate degree. You could have taught.”
“I
do
teach. That's why we're not out on the street.”
do
teach. That's why we're not out on the street.”
Bob frowned, pulling his denim jacket more tightly around him. It didn't look as though it would offer much warmth. “Look, I didn't come here to fight, okay?”
“Maybe we have to get the fighting out of the way first. Maybe after that I'll be able to be civil.”
“Jeez Mel. Do we have to go back over all that? It's been four years.”
“Did you think I'd forget how you left me?”
“Maybe I just hoped you'd be over it by now.” Bob sighed. “Look, do you mind if we continue this inside? I'm freezing out here.”
I came around and closed Davey's door. The anger was fading, I could feel it draining away. Bob was right, what had happened was in the past. It belonged to a totally different part of my life, one I was happy to have left behind.
“Sure, let's go in. But I don't want to argue in front of Davey.”
“Suits me fine.” Bob paused on the walk so I could precede him to the door. “He looks like a good kid, Mel.”
“He's a great kid. The best.”
“You've done a good job.”
“In spite ofâ” Hand on the door knob, I stopped. Put it behind you, I told myself firmly. I looked back and gave Bob a small smile. “Yes, I have. Thanks.”
On that note of cautious rapprochement, we found Davey and Faith in the kitchen. The new toy car was on the counter. The back door was sitting open so I guessed the puppy had already been out. Davey was pouring himself a glass of milk and they seemed to be sharing a box of shortbread cookies.
Faith takes this guard dog business very seriously. She took one look at Bob, a stranger in her house, and leapt toward him, barking ferociously.
“Good God!” Bob stumbled backward. “That's not a Poodle. That's a bear!”
I looped my arms around Faith's neck and caught her mid-pounce. “It's really mostly hair. And she's very friendly once you get to know her.”
Bob righted himself in the doorway, trying to look nonchalant, as if an oversized Poodle puppy hadn't just scared him off his feet. He stared at Faith, who was now sniffing his legs.
“Do you realize she's wearing earrings?”
“Yes.” Like I hadn't heard that before.
“Ear wraps,” Davey said importantly. Aunt Peg must have been teaching this child more than I'd realized. “They're for keeping the hair out of the way. Faith's my dog. Isn't she great?”
“Great.” Bob smiled at his son.
“You couldn't have gotten him a German Shepherd?” he mouthed at me, over Davey's head.
“Trust me,” I said. “You had to be there.”
Bob glanced at the refrigerator. “Do you suppose ... ? I got up in Pennsylvania this morning and drove straight through. Is there any chance you could make me a sandwich?”
“Not much,” I said. Fostering domestic independence in the male half of the population had begun to seem important to me lately. Probably because I was raising a male who seemed to think that his every wish should be catered to. “But you can help yourself. I'm pretty sure there's some turkey and swiss.”
As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. Turkey and swiss. Bob's favorite. Now he'd think I'd remembered that on purpose; when it was really just a fluke, fate's way of having a good laugh at my expense.
Bob dug around in the refrigerator, then laid the supplies he'd found on the counter. “Bread,” he muttered, crossing the kitchen and pulling open the right drawer. I cringed inwardly at his familiarity. Too bad I was such a creature of habit. It would have been nice to see him fumble around. Instead, getting out a plate, silverware, and a napkin to go with it, Bob looked right at home.
“Hey!” cried Davey. “How come you know where everything is?”
Bob slathered a heavy coating of mayo onto a slice of bread. “I used to live here.”
“When I was a baby,” Davey prompted.
Bob nodded.
“When I was only this big.” Davey held his hands about a foot apart.
Piling turkey onto the bread, Bob nodded again.
“You used to be my daddy. Then you went away.” Bob stopped what he was doing and turned to face his son. “You're right, I did.”
“Mommy said you had to go.”
Bob spared me a glance, then hunkered down in front of his son. “At the time I thought I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I was confused. Because I was scared. Because suddenly it seemed as though my whole life was rushing by and I was just standing there watching it.”
I wasn't sure Davey would grasp all that, and he didn't. Instead he walked over to the counter and picked up his new car. Then he looked at Bob's sandwich and said, “Can I have a bite?”
“Sure, when it's ready.” Bob stood up and went back to work.
I stared at my ex-husband's back, frowning. Davey may not have understood, but I did. Communication had never been a strong point between us. That was the first time I'd ever heard him voice the feelings that had driven him away. Having gone through something similar myself recently, I knew how he must have felt.
That didn't make me like what he had done, however. Nor did it make me forgive. But it did lessen the hurt, just a little bit.
“You must be hungry.” Bob had offered Davey half the sandwich and watched as his son bit off a piece a good deal larger than he could comfortably chew.
“We ate lunch at the dog show,” Davey informed him, talking happily around his full mouth. “With Aunt Peg.”
“Aunt who?”
“Do you remember my father's brother, Max?” I asked.
“Not really.”
“He died last summer. Peg was his wife.”
“She has Standard Poodles,” said Davey. “A whole house full. And even more in a kennel out back.”
“Standard Poodles as in ...” He nodded in Faith's direction.
“You got it.”
“Aunt Peg takes us to dog shows,” Davey announced. “And she let me drive her car.”
Bob and I both stared.
“She did not,” I said.
“Did too.” If he hadn't still been chewing, he might have stuck out his tongue.
“She sounds like an interesting woman,” said Bob.
“She is.”
I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down. “So, how long do you suppose you'll be staying in Connecticut?”
“How long?” Bob repeated. “Didn't I mention that?”
Something-intuition maybeâcurled in the pit of my stomach. “Mention what?”
“I figured on a couple of weeks, or so. After that, I've got to be heading back. I guess I didn't get around to telling you. I'm getting married at the end of next month.”
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