7
I pass right by the entry of Canine King Thursday morning on my way to the post office. In the process of simultaneously trying to make myself invisible and giraffing my neck to see through the open door, I almost trip on the curb. The store is coming together nicely. The counter has been wrapped in natural wood boards for a rustic look, the wall displays are up, and half the shelves are already stocked and organized by type and color. I hate to admit it, but it looks flawless.
“Finally stopping by to wish me welcome like the other neighbors?” a voice says behind me. His voice. “How do you like my window displays? I’m going for something less predictable, sort of bringing the outdoors inside.”
Behind the glass, large potted plants in woven baskets mix with artificial turf, fence segments, and crates of exclusively white and brown toys. Very design-y.
“It’s certainly unique for a pet store.” Some might even call it pretentious…
“Dog boutique. No need to bombard customers with all the colors of the rainbow like some sort of carnival attraction.”
I glance toward the colorful mishmash in Happy Paws’ windows. “You mean like our store.”
“Your words, not mi—”
Before he finishes his sentence, the electrician who’s up on a ladder hanging light fixtures swears loudly.
Leo hurries past me. “Is there a problem?”
“You could say that.” The man grunts as he makes his way down. “Those wires need to be replaced at the switch, all the way.” He gestures across the ceiling.
“What do you mean? Why?”
“The fire code wasn’t the same when this was built, and there’s some signs of rodent activity.”
Leo stiffens. “Rodents as in mice?”
“Yup.” The guy folds up his tool kit. “Is it okay if I leave the ladder?”
“You’re heading out? I thought you were finishing up today.”
“I’ll need another guy now if we’re going to remove the ceiling panels.”
“Remove? When? I’m opening tomorrow.”
Maybe there is some poetic justice in the world after all.
“Best of luck!” I holler as Leo disappears into the depths of the store, but as I turn, a voice whispers my name from behind a display right inside the door.
“Psst, Cora.” A red bob becomes visible. It takes me a moment to recognize Jaz. She’s wearing a black apron emblazoned with Canine King in gold stitching.
“Why are you in a wig?”
She glances behind her as if to make sure no one’s watching and whispers, “I got the job.”
My face must betray my lack of preparation for this turn of events because Jaz steps through the doorway. “Don’t worry, I have not switched sides. Still one hundred percent Team Cora. But a girl’s gotta eat.”
“In a wig?”
“I’m undercover. In case he spotted me with you at O’Connor’s. You’re not mad about it, right?”
“No, it’s fine. I just didn’t know you had applied.”
She hikes her thumb toward the back where Leo and the electrician continue their squabble. “If it makes you feel any better, he was pretty desperate to get someone in here. The pay is actually decent for a clerk job.”
“Well good for you.”
“So, is there anything in particular you want me to snoop for?” Her eyes are round and eager.
“No, I don’t—”
“Oh!” She cuts me off. “I did overhear him telling someone on the phone to ‘keep it between them’ in a scheming sort of way. Maybe there’s something shady there like an illicit contract or a mob connection or something?”
Leo is at the counter with his back to us now. His neck is bent as he leafs through a stack of documents with short, precise movements. He’s strung tightly, that’s for sure, but who wouldn’t be when on the brink of opening a new business. If he’s anything at all like his high school self, I imagine perfection is what he’s going for, and nothing else will be considered a success. “I highly doubt it,” I say, adding, “but keep up the good work” when Jaz’s enthusiastic grin wanes. “See you tomorrow at the launch?”
“Jaz, when you have a minute,” Leo calls from inside in a bossy tone some might call sexy. Not me, though.
“I’ll pour you an extra tall glass of wine.” She winks at me. “Got to go.”
I text Micki as soon as I’m out of sight. She knows her sister better than I do, and I need her to tell me this isn’t the Most Terrible idea.
Of course, because he’s Leo, he doesn’t need luck to get the store ready in time. The electrical truck packs up and leaves by noon the following day—I pay close attention to the morning’s developments from inside Happy Paws between stocking shelves and helping customers. I enjoy the view of Leo wiping drywall dust off the window display, and smile when Jaz mimics panic for my behalf behind his back. It’s down to the wire for them, so I believe it.
“Blue tie or silver?” Harvey calls from the stairs.
“You’re going, then?” I ask.
“As are you.” Harvey examines the two options in his hands. “No, Martha preferred the blue one. I’ll go with that.”
“Um, I haven’t decided yet. And I’m not exactly dressed for an exclusive event .” I look down at my floral skirt and red cable-knit sweater.
“You look perfectly presentable. Remember, we have trade secrets to uncover over there. Or so Michaela tells us.” He winks.
Lord knows we need some. After another look through the window, I concede with a grunt. “Fine, but I’m not fixing my hair.” No need to go overboard.
“That’s my girl.”
A few hours later, Canine King is filled with mingling people and a handful of pooches as we step through the door. A guy with a guitar sits in the back corner, his calm strumming setting the mood. All around me superlatives flow.
“This is wonderful,” an older woman with two meticulously groomed Havanese comments as she browses the custom collar selection.
“I need to find out what kind of wine this is,” says another.
Harvey is quickly pulled into a conversation with people he knows, so I take to exploring on my own. Every surface is so pristine that I want to throw up, but I’ve come prepared, juvenile though it may be. Since Leo is getting under my skin, I will now get under his with a small “gift” to show my appreciation for his presence.
As discreetly as I can, I tuck an old digital wristwatch from our lost-and-found box into one of the flowerpots in the window before I join the mingling crowd. It’s a children’s watch in the shape of a cat, and instead of beeping, it meows. I’ve set it to go off on the hour every hour. That should annoy him at least for a bit.
“Hi,” Leo says at my side, startling me. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.” He’s in a navy-blue suit for the occasion—a ridiculously expensive one if I’m to guess. The patterned tie and pocket square match in an international superstar kind of way. Men should not be allowed to be this pretty.
I step out of the way for a couple of people on the move and nod a “hello” to them. There are several familiar faces here actually, each one a stab in the back. “Honestly, I could use a drink,” I tell Leo. “Figured I’d pop in.”
If he’s offended, he doesn’t let on. “White or red?” He gestures for me to follow him to the counter where Jaz has taken on the role of bartender.
“What can I get you, miss,” she says, staying in character as a complete stranger.
“A large glass of red, please.”
“Of course. One second.” She dives behind the makeshift bar for a slightly bigger glass than what everyone else is holding and proceeds to pour me a healthy helping. “There you go.”
Leo frowns in my peripheral but doesn’t have time to comment before a man in a Burberry coat pats him on the shoulder. “Great turnout, Leo. Everything looks flawless.”
Leo flashes a smile. “Thank you.” His gaze flicks upward past my head, then back.
Next to the glasses on the counter is a guest book, and as we’re talking, guest after guest steps up to enter their names and email addresses. Why have we never done anything like that? The missed opportunity is so obvious when it’s staring me in the face.
“Is Harvey here, too?” Leo asks. He glances above my head again, lips tightening briefly before returning to neutral.
What is he looking at?
I peer over my shoulder but don’t see anything out of place. Only organized perfection and happy customers. I swallow the metaphorical sour grapes and then a mouthful of the liquefied ones. “Over there.” I point. Pop is laughing and talking animatedly as if we’re here on a social call.
“Looks like he’s enjoying himself.” Leo smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hey, I’m really not here to ruin things for—”
“Hi, there.” A tall woman with dark lashes and shoulder-length brown hair who looks vaguely familiar interrupts him. There’s a curious glint in her eye as she smiles at me. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Diane Kurtz, Leo’s aunt.”
“Cora Lewis.” I shake her hand. I didn’t know he still had relatives around here. His family used to own a big equestrian center outside of town, but they closed it and moved around the time his class graduated. Maybe they’re all back, and that’s why he’s here?
“You must be Harvey and Martha’s granddaughter.” Diane gives Leo a look that suggests my name’s come up. “Happy Paws, right?”
“That’s right.” Has he been talking about me?
“We were in the middle of something, actually,” Leo tells Diane. “Maybe we can circle back?”
“Oh.” Diane looks between us. “Of course. Sorry. But really quick, Dawn wanted me to tell you thanks for helping with that website thing of hers. It’s made a big difference. I swear she was completely overwhelmed before.” The message relayed, she flashes an apologetic smile and backs away.
“Tell her no problem. Happy to do it.” Leo smiles indulgently as his aunt retreats. “Sorry about that. She wants to talk to everyone. She and her wife, Dawn, have been great to me this past year. I think they brought along at least twenty people tonight.”
“That’s nice. Is the rest of your family here, too?”
A shadow crosses his features. “No,” he says.
I wait for him to elaborate but get nothing. Okay, then. I finish what’s left of my wine in one fell swoop. Pick a different topic. “So, ‘circle back,’ huh?” I do bunny ears with my fingers. “What did you do before coming here? Something ‘results-driven’ no doubt, where you could ‘build consensus’ and follow ‘best practices.’ I know—corporate takeovers?”
He glances at the ceiling again, and now I see it. The farthest light above the counter is out, and it’s driving him bananas.
Leo clears his throat. “Um, I worked in investment banking and financial risk management actually.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, that tracks. A true capitalist. And now you’re here…” I set my empty glass down on the display table closest to us. This was a mistake. I don’t want to learn anything from him. “I think I’m going to go. Thanks for the wine.” I wave to Harvey who’s chatting with the troubadour, to let him know I’m heading out.
Leo doesn’t try to stop me, and why should he? But when I’ve walked a few steps, I turn back around and find him still watching me.
“Forgot something?” he asks.
“Yeah, I meant to tell you…” I let my gaze rise higher and point. “You’ve got a broken light. Might want to fix it.”
On the way out, my eyes land on his A-frame once more. Talk to me about how I can meet your unmet canine needs. Without thinking, I crouch down and erase part of the sentence from the board. I dig around in my pocket and find a chalk stump left from lettering Happy Paws’ promotions this morning that I use to give the prompt a different ending. “Enjoy,” I whisper, standing to admire my work.
Talk to me about our interpretive dance class for dogs.