Last But Not Leashed, page 9
“By the way. What exactly does Glenn do for a living?”
A laugh-like snort erupted from my countertop companion. “Sorry. It’s just something Sookie wondered about, too. Glenn does a number of things—all of them self-employed. He speculates in the stock market, does some day-trading. In college, he got his real estate license and sold time-shares. That’s where they met, by the way. Whenever you speak to him, either everything is the greatest or his investments have tanked. No moderation. It drove Sookie crazy, which was another reason she had decided to file for a divorce. Their life was like a soap opera.”
“What about Sookie’s boyfriends?”
“Well,” Irene said somewhat defensively, “she needed some joy in her life, and I guess Morris, the guy from the city, was a lot of fun. Of course he’s married, but I think Morris and his wife have some kind of understanding—at least that’s what Sookie implied.”
Fighting to remember who was with whom, I swallowed the last bit of soup. Irene went quiet, weighing whether to tell me anything more. Finally, she leaned over and added one final tidbit. “Don’t tell anyone, but that’s why I wasn’t surprised to find out Sookie took all their money. She rescued Glenn financially so many times; believe me, she deserved it all—especially her Apple stock.”
“Stock?”
“I’m not sure how true it was, but she bragged quite often about her personal financial portfolio. In college, I think, they both invested in Apple stock early on. She—kept her shares, but Glenn sold his the first time the market went down. Some great financial consultant he is.” Irene chuckled. “Sookie told me after it split, the value skyrocketed, and…”
The restaurant door opened and a voice called out, “Hey, Mom.”
Irene put her cup down. “Lucky, come over here and meet my friend.”
Swallowing the last of my scone, I turned to find myself staring into sky-blue eyes that widened in surprise at seeing me. The neon pink tips of his dirty-blond hair stuck out from under his wool cap.
“Meet Dr. Kate, Midnight’s veterinarian. My son, Lucky.”
It all clicked into place. This was the boy who’d looked so afraid when we briefly passed each other at the Circle K.
“Hi, Lucky. Nice meeting you,” I said.
After Irene and Lucky left, Judy came over, a cup of coffee in her hand. “Nice kid,” she said. “But he should be called Unlucky, from what I hear.”
Of medium height, and a bit thin, the boy was memorable more for his hair than anything else. “I’m curious. Why would you say that?”
“He’s a senior in high school, but a few months ago he got himself suspended for a week. The story is he snuck into school late one weekend with a bunch of his friends.”
That sounded odd. “What did they do?”
“Nothing much. Played basketball in the gym. Got into the equipment locker and took a bunch of stuff out. They didn’t steal anything, but those boys did leave a mess. Of course, before they entered the school, they disabled the alarm system and turned off the cameras. However, one of them couldn’t resist taking pictures on his phone and sending them to his girlfriend.”
“Okay, that wasn’t a good idea.”
“The girlfriend made it worse. She forwarded the photos to a bunch of people on a multiple message that included her mother.”
“Who notified the school?”
“No one is sure.”
“Did they all get into trouble?” The reckless behavior of teenagers was no surprise to me.
“No. Everybody in the photos wore masks except Lucky, who was eating a bag of onion rings at the time and looking straight into the camera. The kid refused to rat anyone else out, so the principal made an example of him. Like I said, unlucky. He barely made it to graduation.”
“Unlucky Lucky.”
A few customers stood up and made for the door, wishing Judy good night. After they left, Judy continued her story. “It’s always something with Lucky. If he goes down to the quarry, bees swarm him. When he parked his truck on the street in the city a few weeks ago, it got hit. Stuff like that.”
What must it be like to be a teenager named Lucky, who brought bad luck with him everywhere? I felt sorry for him, but it still didn’t explain his odd reaction to me outside the Circle K. As if he were frightened. The sudden ping of a text message made me dig into my pants pocket for my phone.
SORRY. JUST GOT IN 2 TOWN. LOUSY TRIP.
I’M BEAT.
SEE YOU IN THE MORNING XXX
I stared at the message. Judy asked, “Bad news?”
“No.” I put the phone back in my pocket. “Luke just got into town.” I made my voice sound enthusiastic. “I’ll see him tomorrow.”
“Of course you will. Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. You’re both coming to the party, right?” Judy questioned, her tiredness temporarily forgotten.
Reaching for my credit card, I tried to match her enthusiasm. “Absolutely. We are so excited!”
A few minutes later, after paying my tab, I walked to the truck waiting patiently outside for me. As I stepped off the curb, my foot broke through the snow to sink into a puddle of dirty, icy slush. It was the perfect ending to a perfectly disappointing day.
Maybe Lucky and I have a few things in common.
Chapter Fifteen
New Year’s Eve night, and my anxiety levels rose. Alone in my apartment, I felt on edge, like I was back in high school, not a twenty-seven-year-old professional woman. Clammy hands betrayed my nervousness, so I poured myself a large glass of white wine—perhaps not the best decision. What do novelists call it? Liquid courage?
I shouldn’t be so worried about seeing Luke again, but I sensed something was wrong. My hope had been to get together early and perhaps skip the New Year’s Eve party altogether. I’d envisioned us alone by a crackling fire, easing back into our relationship. However, when we finally spoke, I discovered other arrangements had been made.
Luke’s family’s diner, closed New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, had offered to donate their leftover baked goods to the party, along with loaning Judy serving trays and catering items. Luke’s cousins expected him to help them organize and transport the deliveries out to the hay barn. He’d also been roped into being a designated driver, so now we had to hang around and chauffeur whichever of his family or friends needed a ride until the party ended.
At least we’d have some time alone tonight, I thought, as once again I sat on the living room sofa in my new clothes, waiting. I’d impulsively bought a pale blush skirt, with a sparkly fine mesh overlay. Quite unlike anything I usually wore—like a princess. What was I thinking?
When the doorbell rang, Buddy started barking. I’d kenneled Mr. Pitt, since I wasn’t sure how he’d be with strangers, but I heard his deep bark faintly resonating through the apartment’s connecting wall.
With a welcoming smile on my face, I opened the door wide—only to have a brassy blond-haired girl push past me, yelling, “Where’s the can?”
I pointed behind me. She sprinted off, zipped inside, and slammed the bathroom door.
Luke appeared silhouetted in the doorway, dark wavy hair slightly mussed. The crooked grin that always got to me was missing. Instead, he stomped his feet on the doormat.
“Kate,” he apologized, “I’m sorry about my cousin. Some kind of stomach issue, I think.” Cold air blew against my legs and arms before he partially shut the door, leaving it ajar as though poised to run.
Not the romantic moment I’d hoped for.
Buddy, meanwhile, gave Luke a greeting befitting a king, yipped with joy, twirled around, and licked his hand slavishly like a traitor. Luke, in turn, ruffled Buddy’s coat and said, “Who’s a good boy?” My dog’s tail thumped rhythmically against the door.
We heard a noise coming from the bathroom, sort of a thunk, then the door opened, and Luke’s cousin walked out. Slamming the door, she dramatically said, “I’d wait a while before going in there, if you know what I mean.”
Luke laughed and the girl joined in. About five two, dressed in tight leather pants, with a sparkly low-cut blouse showing under her coat, this was a pretty cousin I’d never met.
“Rainbow, I’d like you to meet Kate.”
The four-inch heels on her black leather boots created a slight wobble in her walk.
“Hi there,” I said, noting her gold nose ring. She looked about eighteen or nineteen at the most. “Luke’s got so many cousins it’s hard to keep them straight. Now, what side of the family are you from?”
She giggled. “My mom is Luke’s mom’s first cousin. Soooo, I’m a second cousin. There are a bunch of us.”
Great. Could you date your second cousin?
Rainbow took a measured look at my converted garage studio, then gave a little wave to catch my attention. “Uh, Karen. You coming with us to the party?”
“My name is Kate, not Karen.” Was I going with them? Obviously, she was riding along with us. When I glared at Luke, he shrugged his shoulders as if it weren’t up to him.
Rainbow watched the two of us through her fake eyelashes. “Whatever.” She giggled again as if she’d said something funny. Rainbow appeared to have started the party without us.
“I guess we’re all going together.” Luke conveniently sat on the sofa, continuing to rub Buddy’s floppy ears. “Are you ready, Kate?”
“Luke, can you help me walk to the car?” Rainbow tiptoed over and pulled Luke to his feet. “I almost slipped coming in here. Remember?”
“Of course,” he answered. “Kate, I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.” My voice dripped with sarcasm, but the effect became lost in a flurry of yips.
After that little scene my mood shifted from nervous anticipation to confusion, then anger. Mostly anger. Although I knew I shouldn’t, I poured myself another large glass of wine.
Midway through my drink, Luke returned.
“Listen, Kate,” he said as he walked toward me. “I apologize for bringing Rainbow. She missed her ride, and my grandmother insisted she go with me instead of calling an Uber.”
Blaming your grandmother? That was low. On the other hand, I suppose it could be true. With a flourish I finished my wine, picked up my coat, and magnanimously declared, “That’s fine. Could happen to anyone.”
“Honey, I’ve missed you,” he said, moving in closer to give me a lingering kiss. “Let’s not let this spoil our evening. We’ve got a whole new year ahead of us.”
A loud flurry of honks from the parking lot interrupted any plans I’d had of kissing him back.
With my arm clutching his, we made our way to Luke’s SUV. I expected to sit next to him in the passenger seat, but nope. Little Miss Rainbow sat there and didn’t budge. With another cute wave she pointed to the back seat. Something told me I was in for a bumpy night.
The Hay Barn Gallery was exactly that, but much more. Its former life as the tallest barn in the county became reinvigorated after it caught the eye of computer software millionaire Jacob Zolvechek while he visited the Hudson Valley with his Icelandic artist girlfriend, Signe. Although the gallery was conceived as a performance art space for his sweetie’s massive kinetic sculptures, he poured money into it. After his lawyer petitioned the town for a variance, they raised the roof even higher. Luke told me an intricate catwalk and pulley system allowed three-hundred-sixty-degree visualization of the Alexander Calder–like sculptures.
After his girlfriend publicly dumped him, Zolvechek sold the property to a nonprofit organization that worked with local artists. They painted the barn a classic red with white trim. Multiple signs advertising the Hay Barn Gallery and Studios directed us to a large, paved parking lot surrounded by farmland. An architect designed the inside of the barn to be configured in many different ways. It could even serve as a theater.
Cars, trucks, and even several RVs jammed the parking lot. I guessed half the town decided to party.
The New Year’s Eve party was already slamming when we arrived at twenty minutes past ten. While we looked for a parking spot, I felt the music vibrate the car windows. The funky smell of marijuana perfumed the outside air. Walking toward the entrance, we dodged clusters of smokers. One offered Rainbow a hit, which she happily accepted.
Although Luke and I entered hand in hand, Rainbow and another friend swept him away for “just a minute.” An emergency had cropped up with a young relative, who needed Luke’s advice.
“Can’t it wait?” I asked him. “We just got here.”
Rainbow tugged at his arm. “I’ll be right back.”
He left me standing alone next to the front door as it opened and shut, admitting more smoke and more partygoers. I moved toward the wall to avoid being trampled.
To pass the time, I plucked a brochure from a Plexiglas wall organizer and scanned its contents. This interesting space displayed paintings, mixed media, sculpture, sketches, and glasswork. Judy had wisely moved all the artwork out of danger. Only the small tags identifying titles, artists’ names, and prices remained attached to the walls, creating a disjointed checkered pattern. The warm air buzzed with conversation, music, and the heavy smell of marijuana.
“Are you looking for something in particular?” asked a deep voice directly behind me.
Startled, I said, “No.” When I turned to explain, my eyes met the black eyes of a stranger. A sketch of him—tall with a fit runner’s build and shoulder-length dark blond hair—was listed for sale in the Hay Barn Gallery catalog.
“Oh. Are you an artist’s model? There’s a picture of you…”
He laughed, showing a glint of white teeth. “Not really. Although when I can’t afford a model, I sketch myself.”
More people came through the door, skirting around us to join the crowd. Feeling slightly dizzy, I searched the room expecting Luke to have returned by now.
“You must be getting hot,” the stranger said. “May I?”
Before I could reply, he gently slipped my wool coat off my shoulders, saying, “Follow me. I’ll show you where we’re storing the coats.”
He reached out his hand and without really thinking, I took it. He expertly picked our way through packs of enthusiastic dancers, their arms flailing and hips swaying, until we broke through to the other side of the room. A mix of small bistro-type tables lined the walls. Hanging from the rafters were four industrial-sized electric heaters, their coils glowing bright red. Thanks to the wine and the heat, I felt pleasantly relaxed. Sure enough, several rows of portable racks already stuffed with coats stood tucked into an alcove adjacent to the unisex bathrooms.
“I’ll hang it up,” I told him, taking back my only good coat, and placing it on a purple plastic hanger. “Are you helping Judy with the party?”
The stranger smiled and said yes. “We’ve got a rowdy crowd tonight of musicians, artists, and people who are plain tired of being cooped up this winter.”
Due to the heat radiating from above, I soon went from warm to hot in the cramped space—then hotter.
I fanned myself with my hand.
We both leaned against the wall. He explained that several local artists who showed their work here had helped Judy safely stow the sculptures and other artwork in the storeroom. “We began setting up the temporary wall panels early this morning,” he explained. “Tomorrow we’re meeting at three in the afternoon to put it all back together again.” A shout went up from the crowd as the eclectic DJ played “Y.M.C.A.” Young and old began to laugh as they tried to become letters in this perennial favorite. The crowd appeared to be enthusiastically celebrating the imminent demise of the old year. Several men and a few women took off their shirts, swinging them over their heads like lassos.
My choice of a hand-knit sweater, lovely as it was, quickly became way too hot. Thankfully I’d worn a silk camisole under it. A couple danced past, the man with a sweaty bare torso, the woman dressed in a short skirt and red bra.
With the sweater secured to my coat, I decided it was time to introduce myself to Judy’s pal. “Thanks for helping me. I’m Kate.”
“I know exactly who you are.” He bent down so I could hear him above the noise. “You’re Dr. Kate Turner, friend to animals, and fierce pursuer of justice. I admire you.”
A deep blush flushed my face at that unexpected compliment. “And you are?”
“Colin Riley.” He paused as though thinking, before adding, “Poor purveyor of poetry and paint.”
He expected me to be charmed. My Gramps would say that Colin had the Irish gift of the blarney—someone whose words could effortlessly persuade, charm, and often deceive. Tonight, I chose to find him charming.
Some passersby inched past, engulfing us in a cloud of pungent smoke.
I shifted away and kept searching for Luke in the crowd.
“Smoke your weed outside, guys,” Colin said, “but thanks for sharing.”
Their answer was lost as the crowd shouted again. Through a momentary break in the dancing bodies, I noticed my client Daffy, dressed as Father Time, with that long scythe flung over her shoulder. Just as quickly, she vanished. The cashier from Circle K passed by, sedately dancing the cha-cha all by herself.
Friends and acquaintances moved back and forth like shadows in mirrors. The world felt woozy. Colin moved closer, making way for a large man dressed as a clown. Someone else wearing a hooded black cape and Freddy Krueger mask shoved past. Why the Halloween get-up? I wondered.
The music pulsed and moved like something alive. After the song ended, everyone clapped. “Change of pace, guys,” the DJ said. Then the sweet notes of a violin began a familiar melody. “Colin,” I said, “thanks for everything. You don’t have to stay here and babysit me. I’m sure you have a million things to do.”
“Yes,” he replied. “Millions and millions of things to do.”
For the second time that night he held out his hand to me. “Shall we dance instead?”
