Brute Strength (23 page)

‘He'd have been thrilled at the sight of his all-too-merry widow,' Leah commented.

‘People deal with grief in different ways, Leah,' I said pompously.

‘Well, if Steve dies, I hope that you—'

I took the bait. ‘Leah, stop! That is not funny.' As I've said, the most common pitfall in dog training is . . . failing to ignore behavior you don't like.

Steve said, ‘She'll run personal ads in the
AKC Gazette
and the
Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association
.'

‘That'll be after she's replaced you with a dog,' Leah said. Mimicking me, she added, ‘“People deal with grief in different ways.”'

I had to wait for more than an hour after we got home to get the truth out of Leah and Steve, in part because they persisted in their irritating game and in part because we had to unload the van and feed the dogs. Finally, at six o'clock or so, we decided to take advantage of the clear skies to sit in the yard and give the dogs a chance to play. Because all three of us had eaten heartily only a few hours earlier, we weren't hungry, and neither was Rita, who, to my disappointment, was alone rather than with Max Crocker when she joined us. She did, however, arrive with a more expensive bottle of Australian Shiraz than I'd have sprung for, and I felt certain that the wine and the presence of a good psychotherapist would combine to loosen Steve's and Leah's tongues.

I'd finished wiping off the picnic table and padding its damp benches with old towels when Rita made her way down the back steps, the bottle of wine in one hand, a wine glass in the other. Leah followed with three more glasses. Sammy was delivering the coup de grâce to a doomed peony plant by rolling on its crushed remains. As he wiggled blissfully on his back, Kimi kept a close and astonished eye on him, as if to say, ‘Yet one more instance of this puppy's brainlessness! Isn't he ever going to grow up?' Rowdy was taking care to lift his leg on a wet forsythia branch without actually touching it. When Steve took a seat at the table, India stationed herself next to him, and Lady settled for me.

Pouring wine, Rita said, ‘Your friend Max is such a lovely man.'

‘Isn't he!' I said.

Handing a filled glass to me, she said with a sigh, ‘Damn shame.'

‘What is?'

‘That all the best men are married or gay or both.'

‘Max isn't married. I've been to his house. He lives alone. Beautiful house, by the way. Anyway, his application says that there's no one else in the household. We ask. And he doesn't wear a wedding ring.'

‘Who said that he was married?'

I rolled my eyes. ‘Rita, you're wrong.' I sipped my wine. ‘This is really good. Thank you.'

‘You're welcome, and I'm right, more's the pity.'

‘Rita, when we screen adopters, we look for this stuff. I do! Rita, most rescue people are very biased in favor of gay adopters because there's a fair chance that they'll have dogs instead of children. A nice, stable gay or lesbian couple? Preferably older. Settled. Lesbian couples do have babies sometimes, and gay men adopt children, but especially with an older adopter, the odds are heavily in favor of the dog, so it can be the perfect home.'

‘Without the bothersome complication of human relationships.'

‘No! Well, in a way, but that's no more true for gay people than it is for anyone else, except that for gay people, the gigantic advantage of a dog is the absolute certainty that the dog isn't harboring any lurking prejudices or stereotypes or negative feelings. The dog cares whether the owner is gay or lesbian about the way Rowdy cares whether I'm a Capricorn or whether I read Jane Austen or like the color blue, OK? He just doesn't care.'

‘Holly, Max is gay.'

‘I take it that he didn't ask you out,' I said.

‘Holly, I meant what I said. I like him a lot. We have a great deal in common. I hope that I'll see him again.'

‘And when you do,' I said, ‘you'll realize that I'm right and you're wrong.'

‘Truce?' Rita asked.

‘Truce,' I said. We both laughed.

Then everyone had a little more wine, and Rita said to Leah, as casually as if she were asking about the weather, ‘I saw you with the good-looking young doctor.'

Leah made the same face she'd made at the armory. ‘Don't remind me! He is so disgusting!'

‘Are we talking about the same person?' I asked. ‘Hatch Jones. Vanessa's son?'

‘Hatch,' said Leah. ‘Hatch. As in cracking open and producing fowl, f-o-w-l. Cluck, cluck, cluck. And foul, f-o-u-l. Foul.'

‘You must be kidding,' I said.

‘Holly, for God's sake, she is not kidding,' Steve said. ‘Leah, what—'

Practically tripping over Steve's words, Rita said, ‘Of course Leah's not kidding. Leah, let's drop the light tone, if you don't mind.'

Butting in, I said, ‘Leah, I'm sorry. From the way you and Steve were acting, I assumed that he knew about whatever was going on.'

‘No,' Steve said grimly.

Rowdy and Kimi came bounding up to me but fixed their intelligent dark eyes on Leah. India was watching Steve, and Lady was training a worried gaze at India. Even Sammy noticed that something was up. He planted himself a few yards from our group and surveyed the scene, his expression baffled.

‘Leah,' Steve said, ‘we need to hear exactly what happened.'

‘It wasn't that big a deal,' she said.

I started to demand the account that Steve had requested, but he caught my eye in time, and I kept quiet.

‘This was at the armory,' Steve said. ‘This afternoon.'

‘Yes.'

‘Inside? Or out in the parking lot?'

‘Inside. In the armory with people all over the place. Besides, Kimi was with me.' Addressing Kimi, she said, ‘You don't like Dr Chicken any better than I do, do you, Kimi? We both think that he's revolting.'

‘I take it,' I said, ‘that whatever he did was verbal rather than physical.'

‘He tried to put his hand on my arm, but Kimi got in his way, so he had to settle for whispering in my ear, and in case you wondered, I am not giving you the details. Let's just say that he made a disgusting suggestion – actually, two disgusting suggestions – and he had the chance to do that because for a second I could hardly believe what I was hearing. At first, it practically didn't register.'

‘Leah,' said Rita, ‘no one is blaming you.'

‘I should've . . . but I didn't want to . . . but that was my choice! I could've punched him in the gut or screamed at him, OK? Kimi's leash was in my hand. I could've wrapped it around his neck and strangled him. I had all kinds of options.'

‘Did you say anything to him?' I asked.

‘Me? Of course not. Remember? I went to Montessori schools. I'm the product of progressive education. All I did was walk away. And that's pretty much what I'd like to do now. As far as I'm concerned, we've exhausted this topic.'

Although we respected her wish, I have to admit that I was a little disappointed, mainly because I was almost positive about what Steve and Rita were on the verge of saying, and I wanted to know whether I was right. Steve, I predicted, would tell Leah that she had behaved in a sensible, mature way, whereas Rita would praise her for being in touch with her anger.

‘If you want to let it go, Leah,' I said, ‘that's what we'll do. But I must say that I find it hard to reconcile this incident with . . . with Fiona. With their engagement.'

Leah said, ‘I thought about that, too, but we spent all of one evening with Fiona. We didn't really know her. Maybe she liked . . . or maybe he was different with her. But could we please just drop the whole thing?'

‘Of course. So, Steve, who whispered what in
your
ear?'

‘Vanessa cornered you,' Leah said to him. ‘If she wants free advice, she ought to ask her own vet. She isn't even a client of ours.'

‘She should've cornered Rita instead of me,' Steve said. ‘She wasn't asking about Ulla. She was asking me about Avery. She says that Tom is spoiling Avery and that if he'd quit, Avery'd be forced to do something with her life.'

‘Why did she ask you?' I blurted out. Steve is intelligent, rational, practical, compassionate, and a million other good things, but psychological he is not. ‘Not that you're . . . so, what did you tell her?'

‘I told her that Avery should get a job.'

‘That's perfectly good advice,' I said.

‘It's probably what I'd have ended up telling her myself,' Rita said.

‘What Vanessa really wanted,' Steve said, ‘was for me to hire Avery.'

‘As what?' I asked.

‘She thought Avery ought to take over Leah's job.'

I shook my head. ‘What on earth is Vanessa thinking? Avery? Avery has no interest in animals. She doesn't have all that much connection to Ulla. She doesn't have a dog or a cat of her own. Or birds, fish, anything, as far as I know. And she's never shown any particular interest in our dogs. Vanessa is crazy about Sammy, but Avery probably can't even tell our malamutes apart. What a stupid idea.'

‘Leah's job,' said Rita in that low, ponderous tone beloved by psychotherapists.

‘It may be a meaningful idea, Rita,' I said, ‘but it's still a stupid one.'

Rita said exactly what I knew she was going to say: ‘Holly, it's a good thing that you didn't become a therapist.'

On cue, I gave my standard reply: ‘And it's a good thing that you didn't become—'

All five dogs interrupted me. Led by India, the only one who'd even dream of guarding our property, they flew to the wooden gate, and once India started barking, Lady joined in, and Sammy, looking pleased with himself, produced a copycat woof that would've fooled no one. He himself looked surprised, as if he could hardly believe that the unexpected sound had erupted from his chest. Rowdy and Kimi just stood there wagging their lovely white tails, presumably in the happy expectation that the new arrival was bearing food. Over the din, I heard a car door slam.

By then, Steve was at the gate. One look from him silenced India, and when she quit barking, Lady did, too. Peering through the narrow space between the gate and the fence, Steve called, ‘Gabrielle? We're out here.'

‘What's she doing back here?' I asked. ‘Steve, don't open the gate until I get the dogs. Leah, could you crate Kimi and Sammy? India, down. Stay. Rowdy, this way, please, Mr Handsome. Good boy! Rita, just keep an eye on Lady, would you? Not that she'll try to bolt.'

When Leah and I had finished incarcerating the malamutes, we both ran out the back door and down the steps to the driveway, where Rita's little BMW, my Blazer, and Steve's van were parked. Instead of pulling her Volvo wagon into the driveway, Gabrielle had barely maneuvered it off the street and left it blocking the sidewalk. The rear windows were down. Looking inside, I saw that the keys were in the ignition. In the rear were Gabrielle's suitcase and Molly's crate, with Molly still in it.

‘Something's wrong,' I said to Leah. ‘Gabrielle knows better than to . . . Steve? Open the gate, would you? We're out here. Leah, could you move Gabrielle's car? And get Molly.'

I entered the yard to find Gabrielle seated at the picnic table. Her eyes were heavy, and her face was so pink that the spots left by the laser had re-emerged.

‘I'm so sorry to make a fuss,' she said. ‘Do you think I could have some water?'

‘Of course,' I said. ‘Leah is getting Molly. She'll pull your car in all the way. What's going on?'

‘I should've found a motel,' she said. ‘That's what . . . but I couldn't stay awake. I got off the highway . . . that's what they tell you to do, you know. You're supposed to pull over, but there were all these trucks roaring by, and there was an exit right there, and so I got off. And
then
I pulled over.'

‘Where was this?' I asked.

She yawned. ‘Woburn, I think. Somewhere near there.'

Rita, who'd gone into the house, returned with a tall glass of ice water. Gabrielle emptied it, and Rita went back for more. As she was entering the house, Leah came out with Molly at her heels. Uncharacteristically, Gabrielle didn't thank Leah. It was as if Gabrielle had forgotten that she'd left her car half on the sidewalk and almost as if she'd forgotten all about Molly.

‘Woburn is no distance,' I said. ‘What is it? Half an hour?'

‘That's why I decided just to drive back here.' Molly ran to her, and Gabrielle lifted her up and settled the little white dog in her lap. ‘I woke up, and there I was near a park of some sort, and I just couldn't face looking for a motel that would take dogs. And I thought about a taxi, but—'

I started to say that we'd have gone to get her, but Steve took over. ‘You look warm. Do you feel hot?'

‘Yes. And thirsty. Odd. I feel odd. But the main thing is that I'm so tired. I've gone and overdone it.'

‘Have you ever had an episode like this before?' Steve asked.

Rita returned, and once again Gabrielle drained the entire glass.

‘Steve, I'm just tired,' Gabrielle said. ‘That's all it is. I shouldn't have eaten so much with the long drive ahead. Maybe I'm a little feverish.'

‘Have you taken anything?' Steve asked. ‘Medication of any kind?'

‘Not a thing. Well, my thyroid medication, but that was this morning.'

‘Any nausea? Pain anywhere?'

‘Gabrielle,' I said, ‘the truth is that you don't look well. I think maybe we should get you to the ER at Mount Auburn. It's five minutes from here. Less.' My own heart was pounding. What particularly frightened me were Gabrielle's lapses in judgment. When she'd first felt unwell and pulled off the highway, she should immediately have called us; and when she'd awakened from what must have been a fairly long nap, she certainly should not have driven back to Cambridge.