Chapter 2 #2
There was no hurrying either. Not when she was lugging her loaded-down spinner suitcase. She’d also brought along her old, heavy laptop and was carrying it in her backpack. She was thoroughly exhausted, and with any luck, the rain would hold off until she was on the bus.
To Tess’s disappointment, her meeting with the owner of Pouches and Pooches had been nothing less than chaotic and full of interruptions.
They met in what was to be the newest location in downtown St. Louis, just blocks from Ballpark Village and in view of St. Louis’s best-known landmark, the Arch.
What was sure to be a trendy and popular shop in a bustling downtown area was still a chaotic thousand-foot construction zone.
The owner’s attention had been divided between Tess’s presentation and nonstop flooring and wiring questions by the construction crew.
She made it through her still-being-fine-tuned spiel and was attempting to show him some of her products and demonstrate their effectiveness with real-life success stories when he’d held up a hand, stopping her.
He was sold. He’d recommend her services to the customers on his mailing list. And he had twelve thousand customers on it.
She’d been ecstatic before finding out that he wanted a 35 percent cut of any business she earned from his referrals. Considering that was Tess’s margin, it seemed all but impossible.
Tess was debating how to counter his offer and wishing she had more business savvy when a bigger emergency called him to one of his other stores. He gave her his card and told her to contact him once she’d had time to think about it.
A familiar wave of insecurity rocked her as she headed toward the bus stop. She’d visited almost every independent pet store in St. Louis and several veterinarians too. Why was the concept of truly healthy dogs and cats such a hard sell?
Noticing that the sidewalk ahead was torn up in several places, and that she was about to be forced onto the street, she hoisted her suitcase off the ground.
It felt fifty pounds heavier than it had at the beginning of the day.
Fat, cold drops began pelting her from the dark gray clouds, which didn’t help it feel any lighter.
As the rain dampened her clothes, Tess became uncharacteristically disheartened.
When she’d left vet school two years ago, she’d had a vision.
Maybe getting her idea off the ground would be easier if she’d taken business classes while getting her undergrad degree.
Only, back then, she’d been dead-set on becoming a vet and figured the business end of it would come later.
As Tess neared Market Street and her bus stop, she saw she’d almost reached the end of the sidewalk construction.
The muscles in her arm and shoulder were exhausted from carrying her heavy suitcase, and walking on the edge of the city street wasn’t the safest of actions.
Just as she’d reached the spot where the sidewalk was no longer blocked off, a truck passed by, splashing a wave of cold, filthy water onto her leather boots and leggings.
And with the rain picking up, she was starting to full-body shiver.
She couldn’t reach the shelter of the bus stop quickly enough.
Or her grandma’s small, cozy home where, after a hot shower, she’d slip into comfy clothes and sip on a mug of hot tea.
Three people were crowded under the bus stop shelter, two seated and one standing. The standing one, a lanky man in a dark suit, stepped over to make room under the cover. He gave her drenched clothes a sympathetic glance before becoming absorbed in his phone again.
Tess thanked him and attempted to tuck both her body and her suitcase under the thin slip of remaining roof and out of the rain. Her laptop was dry at least. Not only was it in a water-resistant case, but her long-used backpack still had waterproofing sealer on it as well.
The other two people crowded in the small space made no acknowledgment of her arrival.
A woman took up most of the space on the bench, or at least her bags did.
On the fraction of the bench remaining was an older man with a newspaper open on his lap.
Rather than reading it, he was staring across the five-lane street and mumbling in disappointment about the Red Birds, St. Louis’s much-loved major league baseball team, and their disappointing end to what had apparently been their best season in nearly a decade.
Not that Tess had any idea. To her baseball-crazy family’s disapproval, she’d largely stopped following the sport in college, then entirely when she’d left for Europe.
The intensity of the man’s stare had Tess following his gaze.
On the opposite side of the street was Citygarden, the small but picturesque three-acre fountain and the sculpture park that opened to a view of the old courthouse and the Arch.
In the wind and rain, the popular park was all but deserted.
The only person visible, not far from the giant sculpture of Pinocchio, was a guy wearing an arm sling, balling up an empty leash and kicking at the grass in frustration.
When there’s smoke, Tess thought. She searched for signs of an escaped dog.
She spotted it dashing through the bushes and sculptures at the edge of the park.
The dog was small, stocky, and white. From this far away, her best guess was a Westie.
She flinched as the yapping animal dashed into the street, causing an approaching sedan to slam its brakes.
The dog wheeled to face it, barking as ferociously at the grill as its small stature allowed.
After completing a round of rapid-fire barking that stopped traffic in all lanes, it dashed back into the grassy park.
Once again, the dog was watching the guy who was trying to catch it and made sure to keep well clear of him. The man’s attempts to make it stay put were only causing it to retreat farther away.
Barely conscious she’d made the decision to do so, Tess hoisted her suitcase and dove back into the cold rain. She had to jog across five lanes and dodge traffic to get to the park. Her suitcase thumped against one calf as she ran, likely creating a few bruises she’d discover later.
Once she closed the distance to a bit less than twenty feet, Tess heard the guy curse as he headed toward the western edge of the park in pursuit of the dog.
“Hey, you!” She was determined to stop him before his frustration drove the dog into the street again. “Stop! Just stop, will you?”
It still wasn’t all-out pouring, but the cold drops were soaking her thin jacket.
The guy, his left arm immobilized, had thankfully heard her and was turning around to see who’d called out.
As soon as he stopped walking, the Westie, thirty feet ahead of him, stopped and cocked its head curiously toward Tess.
“Stop please! Just stop moving! You’re too imposing!
” Tess dropped her suitcase and backpack under a bush that had lost most of its leaves but still offered a bit of protection from the rain.
She double-checked the small pocket of her jacket to make sure she had a few of the treats she carried with her for emergencies like this one. “You’ll never get him back this way.”
As she drew closer, Tess noticed that the man was tall.
She often thought of people over six feet tall as ones who swam in a different gene pool, and this guy was well over that mark.
He also had a defined, athletic build and was broad-enough in the shoulders that some innate, subconscious part connected to her reproductive system responded by emitting a spurt of adrenaline.
“Way too imposing,” she repeated under her breath as she closed the distance between them.
He was also sans dog, she reminded herself, which was why she’d left the cover of the bus stop.
“Just stay here, okay? If you stop trying to close in on him, I think he’ll stop moving away from you. What’s his name?”
“Hers,” he said, taking in Tess’s puddle-splashed boots and clothes. “It’s Millie. And please, give it your best shot. She goes berserk off leash. She’s my neighbor’s, and she doesn’t like me on a good day, but even less in the rain. She slipped her collar.”
He offered her the leash, but Tess shook her head.
A sudden gust of wind blew the chilling drops sideways, causing her to shiver.
“Thanks, but she’s watching. Do me a favor and act like your attention’s not on her for a minute.
I’ll head down the park next to the street to keep her from heading back out there.
Once I’m far enough away from you, I’ll see if I can get her to come to me. ”
“Yeah, sure. And thanks,” he called as she hurried toward the edge of the park.
Tess kept watch of the little Westie in her peripheral vision. She headed west along the curb at the edge of the park until she was parallel to the animal. Millie had stopped advancing west and was alternately dashing in crazy circles and stopping to bark in the guy’s direction.
Maybe it was because Tess was better with dogs than the imposing guy with the sling was. Maybe it was because frightened and overexcited dogs often found women more approachable than men. Whatever it was, Tess found the little Westie much more accommodating than the guy had.
As Tess moved toward the dog, she kept her gaze averted, approached at a slow, even pace, and offered calm and continuous praise.
She stopped walking when she was still a good four or five feet away.
She knelt in a squat and offered a treat in her outstretched hand.
Millie zoomed over, stopping a foot and a half in front of her.
The little dog sniffed the air and wagged her tail, then trotted over easy-peasy.
The Westie was quick but gentle at taking the treat.
Once Millie had munched it down, Tess dropped another one onto her open palm but didn’t extend her hand as far.