Paws for Love, A Novel for Dog Lovers Page 10

  The only other thing on the desk was a manila envelope with papers jammed in untidily, protruding from the opening. Alphabet worksheets—Fiona’s, no doubt. On the front of the envelope was a hand-drawn smiley face in girlish purple ink along with Bill’s name and a heart before the other name. Dina.

  The preschool teacher, of course. Just some extra practice for Fiona, who had no doubt missed quite a bit of her schooling when her parents were killed. Misty could picture the blond, petite Dina Everly, so lovely and at ease, from what Misty had seen when they picked up Fiona.

  And the purple heart drawn before her name.

  What did it mean, that heart from Dina to Bill?

  And why did it matter?

  It doesn’t, Misty told herself firmly. Bill is partnering with you only to find Lawrence because he has a vested interest in keeping the film shoot going.

  They were working together through the middle of the song to reach the finale.

  Partners.

  No more than that.

  Turning back to the computer screen, she picked up her violin, soothed again by the smooth wood and coarse strings. She let her bow find a comforting tune to play as she waited for another student whom she had never actually met.

  Eleven

  The maddening Stan still had not called when Misty concluded her lessons at two o’clock.

  When she reached for her cell phone to call him, Bill stopped her. “You’ve already left two messages. No sense hounding him, or he might change his mind about helping,” he said with irritating practicality.

  Gunther arrived with Lunk in tow.

  “Can’t leave him on account of he has taken to getting out. He’s been better until recently.” Gunther shot a look out the back window at Jellybean. “I blame that movie star dog. He’s a bad influence. Like a canine gangster or something.”

  “But he’s not a bad actor,” Bill said. “You should have seen him earlier at the taxicab office. Completely pathetic.” They all watched Jellybean bounding in graceful hops across the yard in pursuit of a grasshopper.

  Gunther let Lunk out. The dog waddled to the grass and immediately flopped in a patch of sunshine. Lunk remained immovable in the face of Jellybean’s relentless efforts to get him to play.

  Gunther tied on his apron and surveyed the chocolate offerings. “You ain’t sold anything since I been here?”

  “Well, we had to close the shop to go to Tidewater.”

  “Might as well. Nobody in this town anyway ’cept for the residents.”

  Bill shook his head. “We’re going to turn it all around next weekend when the Silver Screen Festival kicks off.”

  Gunther flapped a hand as if he were shooing away flies. “Whatever you say, boss. I’m getting paid whether we sell anything or not.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Bill said before turning to Misty. “I’m going to take Fiona to the park. Do you and Wonder Dog want come along?”

  “But Stan might call.”

  “You’ve got your cell phone. He might just as well call us there as here. I’ll pack peanut butter sandwiches.”

  “I thought you only knew how to make chocolate,” she teased.

  He grinned. “Very funny for someone who doesn’t like small talk.”

  And it was, she was surprised to note. That was a humorous little phrase, right out of her very own mouth. Why did things feel easier when Bill was around? Even with Jack it had taken months to feel comfortable, like she didn’t have to weigh each comment for potential awkwardness, measure each response against the yardstick of social norms, peer at other women to see what she should be wearing, saying, eating. But Bill made it easy, or perhaps she allowed herself to relax around him. She tucked the thought away to ponder it later.

  He fixed the sandwiches and grabbed a juice box for Fiona, and they set off, Fiona holding Jellybean’s new leash, the dog cheerfully dragging her in all directions as he sniffed every bush and plant on the way.

  “It’s so quiet here,” Misty marveled as they traversed Main Street. Her upstairs San Francisco apartment was situated above a bustling intersection, so there was a constant cacophony of noise from delivery trucks, construction workers, and bicycle messengers weaving in and out of it all.

  “Like it?”

  The quiet? Did she? “I’ve always loved the city because of the activity. No one pays any attention to anyone else.”

  “And that’s a good thing?”

  It had always seemed to her that it was—hiding in plain sight. But now that she had that “shine your light” thing going on in her heart, she wasn’t sure anymore. She’d talked to more people in her short time in Albatross than she had in a year in San Francisco. The change was frightening, exhilarating, confusing. But not permanent, of course. The city and her apartment were waiting to receive her as soon as she managed to find Lawrence. She realized Bill was watching, head cocked, waiting for an answer.

  “I’m not sure. The quiet is nice, for a while.”

  Bill helped Fiona onto a swing, and Misty pushed her from behind.

  Bill was thoughtful. “That’s kind of why I liked the ranch, in a way. Not having to schmooze or meet people’s expectations.”

  “I would have thought you craved being around people. You’re so outgoing.”

  He shrugged. “A defense mechanism. A good defense leads to a good offense.”

  “Defense against what?” She thought of the picture with the tack rammed into it. What was that hint of shame that appeared and disappeared like a swiftly played note?

  He shrugged. “Not important. Doesn’t matter anyway because I guess God wants me to be around people. He sure keeps drawing me into situations I never expected.”

  “Like fatherhood?”

  “For sure.” He pushed Fiona. “Okay, Fee. Time to learn to pump. You have to bend your legs on the upswing.” He tried to demonstrate, looking so ridiculous with his long legs bent at odd angles that Misty laughed out loud.

  She got onto the swing next to Fiona and held on to the chains, leaning way back with her feet up. “Like this. Up…”

  Fiona mimicked her, and Bill scooted around to give them both a push from behind.

  “Now down!” Misty hollered, pantomiming for the child.

  Fiona bicycled her legs up and down. Swing by feeble swing, she finally got the motion mastered, and soon she was zooming up into the sky under her own momentum. Misty swung too, thrilled by their victory. To her great delight, Bill hopped onto the remaining swing, and soon they were all three whizzing through the air, whooping and laughing.

  Soon Fiona tired of the activity and hopped off to join Jellybean in his pursuit of a brown bird.

  Bill swung high up and suddenly let go, hurtling into the air and landing on his feet in the sand. He threw up his hands. “A perfect ten!”

  “For sure!” she called.

  “Now you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah!” he yelled. “Jump, Misty.”

  “I don’t think…”

  “Don’t think. Just jump!”

  Just jump. Let go of the chains and hurl yourself into the future, next to Bill.

  As the beginnings of doubt and fear crept in, she shot forward on the swing, let go of the chains, and let the exhilarating rush of freedom carry her forward.

  Her landing was not a perfect ten. She tumbled forward onto the sand, rolling over on her back in a shower of grit.

  Bill was at her side in a moment, eyes wide.

  He gently touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  She blinked up at him, adrenaline still coursing through her veins, the freedom from fear still singing through her body. Fiona joined them, fingers in her mouth, and then Jellybean, sticking his wet nose in her ear.

  Misty giggled and then laughed out loud until Bill joined in and even Fiona smiled around her fingers.

  “Yes!” she declared. “I’m just fine.”

  “Whew,” he said, helping her to her feet and brushing the sand out of her h
air. “You scared me there for a second.” His hands grazed along her hair and her cheeks, and her heart thumped madly as he bent closer. He was not going to kiss her. Not Misty Agnelli, who had run from the town and saddled him with a rascally dog only a day before.

  But he was still bending, still coming closer, until he pressed his lips to hers and hers pressed back, her head tipping upward toward the crystal blue of the sky, and the sun shining warmer than she’d ever known it could.

  Until the sound of running feet made them jerk apart.

  Dina was jogging along, earbuds in place. She came over and greeted them with a special warm hello for Fiona.

  “Bill, I don’t want you to think I forgot about you. Can I come to the shop later so we can talk?”

  His tongue felt slow and stupid. What would Misty make of his booking appointments with a preschool teacher? Would she know? Would she guess?

  “Oh sure. Yeah. Anytime.”

  “That’s a cute dog,” Dina said to Misty. “I heard it was Lawrence Tucker’s. Is he coming back soon?”

  “We can only hope,” she said, the joyful abandonment on her face now gone. She was back to reserved, quiet Misty.

  Dina smiled and jogged away. Misty’s phone rang.

  Bill was not in full possession of his senses yet, his nerves still buzzing and humming from kissing Misty. Kissing her? He could not think why he had attempted such a thing. For all his easygoing charm, he was not one to strike up relationships with women. Not the kissing, “I want to hold you in my arms and feel your heart beating against mine” type of relationships.

  But there he was, with his arms still aching for the feel of her, and there she was, clutching the phone as if it were a life preserver. The way she looked at him was somehow different now. Shaded with suspicion? His gut went cold. Too close. He’d come too close to letting her see.

  “H-Hello?” Misty said, avoiding looking at Bill. She listened intently while he fussed over Fiona, fixing one of her hair ties until she squirmed out of his reach. Misty repocketed the phone. “Stan said he dropped Lawrence in Twin Pines. It’s about…”

  “Forty-five minutes north of here.”

  “Why is that name familiar?”

  “Dunno, but it’s already four o’clock, and I have to prep for tomorrow. Okay to wait?”

  She agreed.

  “We could get going right after church in the morning. You, uh, want to go to the service with us? It starts at eight, and there are only about twenty-five in the congregation.”

  Misty chewed her lip. “Oh, um…no. No, thank you. That’s a nice invitation, but I’m not…you know…” She trailed off. “No, thank you.”

  She was not going to leap off any more swings for Bill Woodson or walk into a church full of people she didn’t know.

  “Sure. Let’s meet at the shop at ten.” He went for the confident grin. “I’ll make more peanut butter sandwiches to take along.”

  “Okay. Sounds good.”

  He eventually guided Jellybean back onto the sidewalk. “About that, um, kiss. I was too forward. I apologize.”

  She flushed. “It’s okay. These things happen.”

  It won’t happen again. The thought took away the warmth he’d felt only a moment before.

  It’s a smart thing to stay away from Misty. For once in your life, why don’t you try to be smart?

  Twelve

  Misty awoke groggy the next morning to find a small terrier tight up against her and snoring in a volume totally out of proportion to his size. However, it wasn’t Jellybean’s nocturnal sounds that had kept her tossing and turning throughout the night, but rather her own noisy thoughts. Misty had never been good at interpreting social situations, but she’d seen clearly the intimate connection between Dina Everly and Bill. They knew each other in a way that she and Bill did not. It was clear they had spent time together outside of the preschool pickup and drop-off.

  Why not? she asked herself bitterly as she got out of bed and pulled on her clothes. Dina was young, lovely, and easy to be around. What handsome man wouldn’t want that?

  Jack had. Pain lanced through her chest, not so much for the loss of Jack as the humiliation of knowing the truth. As much as she wanted to blame Jack for the end of their relationship, she couldn’t. He really was a great guy, and he deserved a relationship with someone like Jill.

  “I love you,” he’d said. “I’ll always love you, but I think we’re not completely compatible.” Compatible with a normal, well-rounded life.

  Jack enjoyed people and parties and finding the newest hot spot in town. He was a sales rep, and he honestly loved the events, the small talk, the schmoozing and flitting from conversation to conversation like a bee in search of blossoms.

  He loved, in essence, the very things Misty found frightening. But she’d learned to like those things, or at least attempt to like them, for him. Wasn’t that enough? To try to mold yourself into that round peg so you’d fit into someone else’s life?

  Unless you didn’t. And you couldn’t. And it was just easier to hide yourself under that bushel or bed, or behind the anonymous computer screen. In the dead silence of the empty trailer, Misty felt her own light sputtering into darkness.

  You’re not compatible with Bill’s life either, Misty. At least she’d figured it out early this time, before she was humiliated.

  Bill deserved Dina. What better pairing than with a woman who knew all about kids—a wife and mother all rolled into one?

  She looked down to find Jellybean sitting at her feet, staring up at her in that vacuous way.

  “What?”

  The stare.

  “What do you want?”

  Jellybean yipped and licked her bare feet.

  “All right,” she said. “One song.” Taking up her violin, she poured her heart into a sad melody, the dog listening raptly. When she was done, he leaped onto her lap and swabbed her chin with his tongue to catch the tears she hadn’t known were falling.

  “Jelly,” she said, burying her face in his wiry hair. “Did you ever feel like you were a mutt in a kennel of show dogs?” The little tongue continued to soothe the tears from her face.

  “I wasn’t made to shine a light. I want to go home.”

  Again the vacant stare, or was it perhaps a compassionate look?

  She steeled her resolve. There would be no falling in love here—not with this doe-eyed charmer, and not with Bill Woodson either. “We’re going to find Lawrence today and reunite you, and then I’m hitting the road for San Francisco.”

  Jellybean cocked his head, ears perked, circled precisely three times in her lap, and sank down into a dejected bundle.

  “That’s not going to work, Jelly,” she said, putting him on the floor and clipping him to a leash. She thought about what Ernest had said about Lawrence.

  “Could be he needs more than a violin teacher.”

  “He needs you, Jellybean, so it’s take two, silver screen rescue, and…action!”

  Jellybean elevated his nose in a haughty fashion and peed on the floor mat.

  The drive to Twin Pines was quiet. Bill squirmed in his button-up denim shirt and jeans, wishing he’d taken the time to change into a soft T-shirt. Though the barnyard boogies blared from the CD player, no one seemed in much of a mood to sing along.

  Misty sat quietly, brow furrowed, until he could stand the silence no longer.

  “What are you mulling over?”

  “The name of the town—Twin Pines. It’s so familiar.”

  “Is it a place from Lawrence’s past? He was raised in a foster home. Could it be he was returning to see his foster parents?” Bill figured this might be a clever deduction on his part.

  “No. Vivian said they have both passed away.”

  He jerked. “You got that out of Vivian?”

  “Barely, and only after I promised to lock Jelly in the trailer while we talked.”

  “I’m impressed.” Misty really was an incredible woman. Smart and lovely, and way out of his l
eague.

  Twin Pines boasted five thousand residents, or so the placard read as they cruised in. It was the standard California small town, with older parts that didn’t match and newer sections of squished-together houses with a Mediterranean look to their stucco exteriors.

  There was only one major hotel in town, so they started there, discovering quickly that cabdrivers and hotel managers shared the same policy regarding client privacy rights.

  “I didn’t see him in the lobby coffee area,” Misty said glumly. “But that doesn’t mean he isn’t here.”

  They checked out the local grocery store and deli as they strolled along the main drag, but there was no sign of the actor anywhere. Misty headed for a small consignment shop, the window crowded with glassware, dusty books, and a wooden rocking horse. Bill couldn’t figure out what might have caught her eye until she pointed to a battered violin case, open to reveal a gleaming instrument inside.

  “I always have to look. You never know where you might find a missing Stradivarius. Stradivarius only made eleven hundred or so instruments, and most are accounted for. But Ernest told me about a soldier in the Korean War who found a Strad in the walls of a burned-out farmhouse. I…” She stopped, shocked.

  “What is it?”

  “I just remembered why I know the name Twin Pines. It’s the billing address for Ernest Finn.”

  “The one who recommended you for the movie job?”

  She nodded slowly, brow crinkled. “And when I talked to him last, he wasn’t able to do his lesson due to an unexplained conflict. He called Lawrence ‘old Tuck’ in the course of our conversation. Does that strike you as odd?”

  “Yep, like a mystery movie. Wouldn’t it be an amazing plot twist if Lawrence is holing up with your student?”

  She took out her phone and tapped a few buttons. “Maybe it is time for me to meet Ernest face-to-face. He lives at 110 Elmwood Drive. Do you have a GPS?”