CHAPTER TEN
“You okay?” Joel asks. “You look as though something’s troubling you.”
I stare at him in surprise. We don’t typically venture into personal territory.
He offers me a casual shrug. “Sometimes it helps to talk problems out.”
The client hasn’t arrived yet for our Tuesday shoot and we’re alone in the studio. Joel’s right, I am troubled. Although I wouldn’t normally discuss personal matters with anyone who’s not family, I’ve worked with Joel long enough to trust him, insofar as I trust anyone.
“It’s Lisset,” I say.
Joel listens quietly while I tell him about her reading difficulties and my unsuccessful attempts to cajole her to open a book. I let him know that test results show Lisset is not dyslexic. Then I mention the Reading Dog Program at the school, how I’m at a loss as to what to do next.
“Maybe you should give the program a try,” he suggests when I’m finished. “You have nothing to lose if it doesn’t work out.”
I take a second to absorb his words. “I was so quick to dismiss the program, but you’ve made a good point. What have I got to lose?” I smile my thanks at him. “I should offload on you more often.”
His dark eyes soften and he looks as though he’s about to say something more, but the client arrives to talk through details of the shoot and we drop the conversation.
I’m still mulling over Joel’s advice while I set up everything I need to food style a bowl of cereal. I start by pouring the flakes onto a large tray to sort through them. I pick out only the curved, unbroken ones, setting them aside. My back is stiff and sore by the time I’m done.
The client wants a deep bowl for the picture. Because I’m using white school glue and not milk, which, as I told Tess, will cause the cereal to become soggy and sink to the bottom, I decide to construct a false bottom. That’ll save me from having to fill the entire bowl with glue.
I mix flour with water to create a solid base, then I squeeze a thin, but rich layer of glue on top of the base. The glue is whiter than milk, with a brilliant shine the camera loves.
I tweeze the flakes in one at a time, positioning them to showcase their shapes. Using a syringe, I inject a creamy white conditioner at various intervals between the flakes and clean up the edges of the bowl with a fine paintbrush.
The client wants a spoonful of cereal floating above the bowl. I use an extension arm and a metal clamp, which will be out of sight of the camera, to float the spoon above the bowl. Once I’ve added glue to the spoon, I carefully position cereal flakes onto the spoon and squeeze a drop of the white conditioner at the front of the spoon, creating a delicious drip.
Joel takes the shots, keeping the composition simple for a dramatic effect. The client is so pleased he books us for another shoot the following month.
Joel walks me to my car. “Hey, want to have a drink with me sometime?” he asks offhandedly.
“Sure,” I reply, my brain preoccupied with talking to Lisset’s teacher about the program. “It’ll be good to run through details of the next shoot.”
His steps falter. “The shoot. Yeah, okay. Text me when you’re free.”
“Will do.”
On the way to Lisset’s school, I take a deep, centering breath and decide to take Joel’s advice. Like he said, what have I got to lose? The flicker of unease I’m feeling might be more to do with Gideon than the program, but I can live with the unease if Lisset starts reading again.
When I arrive at the school, I pop in to see Laura, Lisset’s teacher, and give her the go-ahead to try Gideon’s Reading Dog Program with Lisset. Excitement lights up her face. She tells me Gideon had his first session today and the children loved it. She’ll schedule Lisset in for next week’s session.
“You won’t regret it,” she tells me.
I hope she’s right.
Now comes the worst part of my decision. If Gideon’s going to be working with my daughter, I have no choice but to make an effort to smooth things over with him. My jaw clenches when I realize the first step to repairing our relations will have to include an apology.
When we arrive home, I fix Lisset a snack and settle her in front of the TV for some unwind time. With Lisset taken care of, I steel myself to head over to Gideon’s house to deliver my apology and a brief thank you for mowing my lawn. Like a visit to the dentist, I just need to get it over with.
Gideon opens his front door, surprise touching his face as his eyes settle on me.
Most people regard me a little warily, like they’re not sure what to make of me, but Gideon looks at me as though he can see past all my prickly layers right down to my core. More bewildering to me, he seems to like what he sees.
“Kate,” he says in a low voice, his brows pinching together. “Is everything okay?”
The fact that Gideon’s first impulse when I show up unexpectedly on his front porch is to check on my wellbeing makes my chest feel tight.
“Everything’s fine,” I reassure him.
“Do you want to come in?” he asks, opening the door wider.
“No, thank you.” I tilt my head in the direction of my house. “Lisset’s at home alone.”
He nods in understanding. “What can I do for you?”
I clear my throat. “I owe you an apology for my rudeness yesterday.”
He leans a shoulder on the doorjamb. “I didn’t think you were rude. You just don’t believe in wasting time on chitchat.”
“Some people think that’s rude.”
Without missing a beat, he says, “I’m not some people.”
He certainly is not. “I also want to apologize for what I said about your dog.”
As though I’d summoned him, there’s the sound of nails rapidly clicking on a wooden floor as Uno comes charging down the hallway. The greyhound’s canine grin is on full display, tail wagging madly, looking inexplicably excited to see me.
Gideon tries to reach for Uno’s madly quivering form, but the animal can’t keep still, his tail thumping against the wall in the entryway.
“Uno doesn’t normally behave this way,” he explains, looking perplexed.
I refrain from rolling my eyes. Isn’t that what most people tend to say about their children or pets when they’re misbehaving?
Abruptly, I feel something wet splash across my face. What on earth?
Gideon’s eyes cut to mine. Horror is etched on his features as his gaze travels from my face down my body.
I glance down at myself. Blood is streaked on my pretty green sweater, as well as my cream work pants.
Gideon briefly closes his eyes, as if he can’t believe this is happening.
My gaze takes in the entryway, now spattered with streaks of blood. It’s all over the walls, the hall table, the framed mirror above the table. The area looks like a crime scene.
“It’s my turn to apologize,” Gideon says, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he attempts to encourage the greyhound to calm down. “It looks like Uno’s torn the skin at the end of his tail and it’s bleeding.”
The dog doesn’t appear the worse for wear from his injury. He’s still joyfully wagging his tail, flinging blood around like he’s Jackson Pollock in his studio slinging paint around.
“Kate, I’m so sorry,” Gideon says again.
I still can’t speak.
In my mind’s eye, all I can picture is Uno appearing at Lisset’s school and becoming so excited he rips the skin on his tail, spattering blood everywhere. I picture the teachers’ horrified expressions, the screams of the kids.
I can’t hold it in anymore. I burst out laughing. I’m laughing so hard I have to double over and wrap my arms around my middle.
It’s not the reaction Gideon expected. It’s not one I would have anticipated from me either.
“Kate, are you okay?” he asks.
I’m not entirely certain, but I straighten and manage a nod, because he sounds worried.
“Your clothes.” He stares in dismay at my blood-spattered outfit. “I’ll pay for them to be dry cleaned. Please. It’s the least I can do.”
Still laughing, I shake my head. “Don’t worry, it’s fine.”
When I get home, my clothes are going straight in the trash. There’s no way I’m keeping them. First, though, I’m taking a selfie and sending the photo to Tess. With no accompanying explanation. Payback for the upcoming dinner with Gideon she strong-armed me into.
“Is your dog okay?” The words emerge from my mouth before they’re even a coherent thought in my head.
Gideon looks surprised I asked. I’m surprised too.
“There’s just so much blood,” I add, staring at Uno, who is still gazing up at me in adoration, oblivious of the carnage he’s caused.
“This injury—they call it Happy Tail—is common among greyhounds, although it’s never happened to Uno before,” Gideon says, one arm around the dog to contain him while he strokes his stomach, which seems to have a settling effect on the animal. “Greyhounds have thin skin and not much hair to pad their tails, so they’re more prone to injuries.” He inspects Uno’s tail. “It’s a small tear, but tail injuries bleed a lot. I’ll bandage it up and take him to the vet tomorrow, so they can check him out.”
My laughter fades. I’m a little embarrassed letting go like that. The last time I laughed so hard was a year ago, when Tess almost swallowed a fly. I forgot how good it feels. I feel like a different person when I’m laughing, like the Old Kate has snuck out of her coffin to soak up the sun for a few moments before slinking back inside.
Quietly, I ask, “What if this happens at the school?”
Gideon looks at me straight on. “When Uno’s in work mode, he has a completely different temperament. He’s also not normally this excitable.”
I nod. Oddly enough, I believe him.
“Well, I better head back to Lisset.” And take the longest, hottest shower of my life.
Gideon offers me a rueful smile. “I apologize again, but I feel I owe you more than just an apology.”
I wave my hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it.”
He winces. “Seriously, I’m in your debt. Anything you need help with, just yell.”
My interest stirs. I do secretly like the idea of him being in my debt. “Anything?”
“Anything,” he confirms, before adding, “So long as I’m not breaking the law.”
“Shucks, so assassin for hire is off the list.”
“Now I’m starting to worry.”
I offer him a mysterious smile that has him instantly frowning. I know exactly how he can repay me and he’s not going to like it. I say goodbye and make my way across the street, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.
What a long, strange day. And yet, in the end, it was also one of my better days.