Pet Friendly (7 page)

CHAPTER 10

E
mma couldn't keep from smiling as she made her final pass through the inn that evening. Seeing Todd again had been like finding a piece of herself that she thought had been lost forever. She told herself that their reunion was only for one day; that Todd wasn't staying for good; that once he found his dog, he'd be off again. But in spite of that, she'd begun fantasizing about what it would be like if he lived there permanently.

He was obviously struggling financially. That old Jeep had to be at least fifteen years old, and the outfit he'd been wearing was barely adequate for the weather. In spite of what he'd told her about having plenty of clothes with him, Emma had found out that he'd asked housekeeping to launder his things so he'd have them to wear in the morning. She wasn't surprised. Emma could still remember a time when she, too, had been too proud to ask for help. In spite of their generous offers, it was often easier to turn to strangers than to friends.

As she stepped into the lobby, she saw the last of the ghost hunters returning to their rooms. The evening's lectures had been over for some time, but it always took at least an hour for everyone to feel as if they'd gotten their money's worth. Her night clerk, Jeremy, was at the front desk, listening as Clifton read out the list of things that needed to be taken care of before morning. As she walked past, she saw the young man stifle a yawn.

Poor guy,
she thought.
Good thing it isn't really possible to be bored to death.

The Van Vandevanders were coming down the hall looking a bit dispirited as they carried the exhibits from Lars's lecture back to their suite. Emma stopped to ask if there was anything she could do.

“No,” Lars said. “It's all right. Viv's just feeling a bit deflated at the moment.”

Emma glanced at the crestfallen Viv.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Viv said. “That's the problem. Nothing at all happened. Not last night and not tonight, either.”

She sighed dramatically.

“I fear the spirits may have abandoned me.”

Lars and Emma exchanged a look. Viv was having her annual moment of doubt. Until one or more ghosts made themselves known to her at the conference, she'd be inconsolable. It had gotten so bad one year that Emma was tempted to rattle a few chains around in the dark just to get Viv out of her funk.

Lars patted his wife's hand.

“My dear, I'm certain that's not the case,” he said. “You've had these little dry spells before and they never last.”

“But what if this time is different?” she wailed.

“Tut-tut. Be not downhearted. By this time tomorrow, I have no doubt that you'll be ‘back in the groove,' as they say.”

Viv turned to Emma as if seeking confirmation.

“He's right,” Emma said. “It always seems to happen this time of year.”

“Really?” Viv turned to her husband. “Is it possible the encounters are isochronal?”

He frowned thoughtfully. “I don't recall any research on the subject, but I suppose it is possible.”

Emma was nonplussed. She hadn't meant for her comment to be taken seriously. Nevertheless, she was glad to have lightened Viv's gloom, at least temporarily.

“Well,” she said, “whatever the reason, I'm sure someone or, er, something will show itself soon.”

She gave Viv a hug and continued down the hall, making a brief circuit of the conference rooms before returning to the front desk.

Clifton glanced at her over the top of his reading glasses as she approached.

“I had room service waive the charge for Mr. Dwyer's dinner.”

He wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to Jeremy.

“Poor man looked as if he hadn't eaten all day.”

Emma stared. Since when did Clifton show any sympathy for the less fortunate? When Todd showed up that afternoon, it looked as if he'd been ready to toss him out.

“I'm sure he appreciated it,” she said.

“It was good of you to offer him a room. Heaven knows where he'd be sleeping tonight otherwise.”

She pursed her lips, wondering what was really behind Clifton's comments. Emma would have bet that her assistant manager was promoting some personal agenda. Whatever it was, though, she'd prefer he didn't talk about it in front of their night clerk.

“You don't have any objection to Mr. Dwyer's staying here, do you?”

“Hmm?” He looked up. “No, no objection. I was under the impression that you were concerned about the inn's finances, but of course you have every right to treat your beau, if you wish.”

She saw Jeremy's eyes widen.

“Todd is an old friend, Cliff. He lost his dog and I thought it would be nice to offer him a place to stay until he finds it.”

He looked at her blandly.

“I see.”

“And for your information, he's not my
beau.
”

“Thank you for telling me. I'm sorry if I upset you.”

“You're welcome,” she said, trying to regain her composure.

Clifton removed his glasses and tucked them into his breast pocket.

“However, I can't say I'm not relieved,” he said. “I'd hate to see you taken advantage of... again.”

Emma felt her face flush. So there it was, the whole reason for this conversation. Clifton was giving her a not-so-subtle message:
You've screwed up before. Don't let it happen again.

It was humiliating having her past mistakes thrown in her face, especially in such a sneaky, passive-aggressive way. If Emma tried to call him on it, she was sure that Clifton would deny he'd meant anything of the sort. Emma glanced at Jeremy, whose eyes were practically glued to the paper in front of him, and mustered as much dignity as she could.

“Thank you for your concern,” she said. “I think I'll go to my quarters now.”

 

Gran had always told her that the best way to get over an upset was to find a job that needed doing, so the minute Emma got back to the cottage, she changed out of her work clothes and started to clean. First the bathroom, then the kitchen counters; after that, she swept and vacuumed the floors. She'd been tired before, but after what Clifton had said, she knew she wouldn't sleep until she was ready to drop from exhaustion. As angry as she was, Emma knew that Clifton's words wouldn't have hurt nearly so much if there hadn't been some truth to them. She hadn't always shown good judgment when it came to men, and she'd fallen for some real creeps in the past, but that was behind her and she was smarter now. Besides, Todd wasn't just some guy who'd wandered in off the streets. He and Emma had a history together; they knew each other; they'd been good friends, once.

Like a fairy tale, she thought. Once upon a time. The fact was, she didn't know anything about the Todd Dwyer who was sleeping up there at her inn. She had no idea what he'd been up to the last thirteen years. He could be a deadbeat dad or a felon or a serial killer for all she knew.

Emma started to laugh. It began as a giggle and grew until she was too weak to stand. She collapsed on the couch and gasped for breath, laughing so hard that tears ran down her cheeks.

She put on her pajamas and pulled out the sofa bed, then snuggled under the covers, enjoying the feeling of contentment brought on by the belly laugh. She mustn't let Clifton upset her, Emma told herself. She had nothing to apologize for. All she'd done was help out an old friend. If nothing more came of it, that was fine. Emma might be struggling some, but she was a heck of a lot better off than most people. She closed her eyes and thought of all the things she'd do when the bank came through with her loan.

There was someone at the door. Emma opened her eyes and squinted at the clock: one forty. Who would be banging on her door at this hour? It could be Jeremy, she supposed, if there was an emergency and the phone lines were down, but she still had electricity. She waited a few seconds, expecting to hear a voice. Maybe she'd only dreamed she heard a noise.

No, Emma was sure it was real. It wasn't the rain, or the rustle of tree branches, or even one of the nocturnal animals that occasionally sniffed and scratched at her door. Something out there had made a noise she hadn't heard before outside her cottage. She sat up and strained her hearing, waiting for the slightest hint that whatever it was had not been a delusion.

There it was again, fainter now, but still noticeable—a low moaning sound that made the hair rise on the back of her neck. Emma took a deep breath, reminding herself that, in spite of the Spirit Inn's reputation, there really were no such things as ghosts.

She heard scuffling, then a
thump!
against the door. Emma jumped out of bed and grabbed her robe.

“Who's there?”

She approached the door cautiously and put her eye to the peephole. Nothing. Maybe it was the wind after all.

Emma screamed and fell back, her heart pounding. Whatever was out there had jiggled the handle! She searched the room for something to use as a weapon.

“You'd better get out of here,” she yelled, grabbing a Merriam-Webster dictionary and raising it to shoulder height. “I've got a gun!”

There was more scuffling outside and then Emma heard the unmistakable whimper of a small dog. She gasped.

“Archie?”

She dropped the dictionary and opened her door. A dirty black nose and a face full of matted fur peered up at her.

“Oh, my gosh, it
is
you!”

Emma swung the door wide and Archie limped in. He was wet and shivering and his coat was full of burrs. She closed the door and grabbed a dish towel.

“You poor guy,” she said, patting him down gently. “Let's warm you up and get you some food. First things first, though. Let me take a look at that paw.”

Emma turned on a light and put Archie in her lap so she could get a better look. His leg felt solid enough, but the fur was matted and mud-covered. Something had forced its way between his toes, but it was hard for her to tell what it was. Judging by the way he'd hobbled through the door, though, she was sure he couldn't get it out by himself.

She hesitated. Emma and Archie were strangers to each other. What if she tried to pull it out and hurt him? She wanted to help, but she didn't feel like being bitten.

“I don't know, fella,” she said. “Can I trust you?”

Archie turned and looked at her a long moment, his bright eyes taking her measure. Then he leaned forward and gave her free hand a lick.
Go on,
he seemed to be saying.
I can stand it if you can.

Emma nodded.

“All right, then,” she said. “I'll try to make it quick.”

Holding his leg firmly in her left hand, Emma slipped the fingers of the right one under Archie's paw and gently probed the spaces between his leathery pads. She found the problem almost immediately: a spiny cocklebur seed, its razor-sharp spurs buried deep in the tender flesh. Emma marveled that the little dog had been able to walk with that thing in his paw, much less throw himself at her door. You had to admire an animal like that.

She took a deep breath.

“Okay,” she told him. “This is going to hurt more for a second, but after that I promise you'll feel a whole lot better. You ready?”

He gave her hand another lick.
I'm ready,
it said.
Let's get this over with.

When the burr was out, Emma wiped the mud from Archie's paw and blotted his coat dry. Then the two of them went into the kitchen to see if there was anything suitable for a dog to eat.

She found an uneaten hamburger in the refrigerator. Emma broke it into pieces and set them in a bowl on the floor. As Archie dug in, she filled a second bowl with water and set it down, too. When he'd finished the burger and drunk his fill, Emma put him back on her lap and began carefully picking the brambles and goose grass from his coat.

“Boy, is Todd going to be happy to see you,” she said. “He's been worried sick.”

Emma glanced at the clock and bit her lip.

No, she thought, it'd be morning soon enough. Better to let Todd get some rest.

As happy as Emma was that Archie had been found, her joy was bittersweet. Having his dog back meant that Todd would be leaving in the morning. Who knew if she'd ever see him again? Still, she reminded herself, it wasn't her place to persuade him to stay.