Completely Smitten Part 32

To her surprise, the store's interior had an odd twilight quality. Fish tanks of all sizes lined the walls, and their lights provided most of the illumination. They were filled with fish of all sizes and shapes. Some of the fish had tanks to themselves. Others were in large groupings.

A desk in the center had a cash register and all sorts of fish paraphernalia, from pretty colored gravel to multicolored gla.s.s seash.e.l.ls. Empty tanks filled a center aisle, along with other tank supplies: hose, bubblers, and heaters. Fish food and chemicals lined another aisle.

The puppy was the only mammal in the store--besides Ariel and the man behind the counter. He looked up from his newspaper as she let the door close behind her.

"Help you?" he asked.

"The puppy caught my eye," she said.

He smiled knowingly, apparently seeing her confusion.

"The puppy's on loan from the Humane Society. We help them out when they have too many dogs to get rid of. Sometimes people are willing to buy from a store but never go to the pound."

Ariel felt her cheeks flush. "He just caught my eye."

"He's a cute little b.u.g.g.e.r," the man said. "It's his first day here."

She walked over to the large cage the puppy was in. He followed her every move, his tail wagging. His ears trailed alongside him.

"He looks purebred," she said.

"Oh, he is." The man sounded bitter. "One of the local puppy mills got shut down. A hundred dogs, all living in their own filth. I guess they had to put twenty to sleep."

Ariel winced. "I hadn't heard."

"Happens a couple of times a year around here. That's why I don't carry pets. It encourages these idiots who are just into breeding for the money. With so many animals going homeless or being put to death because no one will adopt them, animal breeders are just perpetrating a crime."

"All of them?" she asked.

He shrugged. "There are legit folks. But why get a purebred dog? They're usually nervous and high-strung, with a ton of health problems. Mutts live longer and are much happier."

She put out her finger and the puppy licked it. His big sad eyes reminded her of someone.

"Is this guy okay?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah. He was one of the lucky ones. They nursed him back to health. Now they have eighty dogs to get rid of. Some of the pet stores are helping, and they've put out big notices in the papers and stuff."

The puppy wagged his stubby tail.

"How much is he?" she asked, unable to believe the question had come out of her mouth.

"He's free. But there's a $25 adoption fee that goes to the Humane Society for their costs, mostly for his shots. It's all on the sign."

She looked for a sign, and finally saw it above her eye level. It explained the situation and the fees. It also said she got a free leash and a bag of food with the dog.

"Is he housebroken?"

The man shrugged. "The Society says he is, and he does his business when I take him outside. But I'm not guaranteeing anything."

She nodded. The puppy sat down and watched her. He seemed not only sad but wary; even his little overture in the beginning had been cautious, not effusive, the way most puppies were.

Ariel crouched in front of the cage. He came toward her, tail wagging again, but he didn't get too close.

That sadness--it was so deep. And finally, she had it. The dog reminded her of Vari. Andrew Vari's eyes were that wary and that sad, especially when he looked at her.

Just last week, she had overheard Blackstone tell Vari he needed some kind of pet. Vari had said he was looking for one but couldn't find the right thing.

This ba.s.set hound was right; she knew it.

She also knew that a person should never buy an animal as a gift, in case the recipient didn't want the pet. If she was going to buy the dog and offer him to Vari, she had to be prepared to keep the dog herself if Vari didn't want it.

The dog whimpered. She reached through the bars of the cage and scratched the puppy's chin. The tail wagging grew steadier.

Running wasn't like Ironman training. She wouldn't be training ten-plus hours every day, coming home only to do laundry, a few reps on the weight machines, and sleep. She would have time to care for a pet, even with her job.

Although ba.s.sets weren't running dogs. They didn't have the legs for it. Sometimes ba.s.sets had trouble walking fast.

Not that it mattered. If she kept the dog, it wouldn't be as a running companion.

"I'll take him," she said.

"You will?" The guy sounded surprised. "You know, dogs aren't something you buy on the spur of the moment. You're making a ten-, maybe fifteen-year commitment here."

"I know," she said. "It's time I make a commitment to something."

The man frowned. He reached under the counter, pulled out the leash and collar, as well as a bag of Science Diet puppy food, and some baggies. It took her a moment to realize what the baggies were for.

"Full service place," she said with a smile.

He didn't smile back. She had a hunch he'd come after her if she didn't give this dog a good home.

She wasn't about to tell the man she planned to give the dog away.

He reached inside the cage and slid the puppy out. The little dog struggled against him, the tail between his legs.

"He doesn't like to be touched," the man said. "He was pretty badly abused. Can you handle that?"

If she had to, she could. She was pretty sure that Vari could handle it even better than she could.

"Does he have health problems because of it?"

"None that we know of." The man set the puppy on the counter. The little dog's tail started wagging the minute the man let go of him. Then the puppy bent his long snout and started sniffing, investigating every square inch of the tile as the man slid the collar around the dog's neck.

"Now," the man said to her, as if she were a child, "you get his name and address on this collar first thing. Too many dogs get lost and their owners never find them again. If you have any problems, you call me or the Humane Society. If for any reason you decide you don't want him, bring him back here. Don't just abandon him."

Ariel gasped. "I would never do that."

The man grimaced. "You'd be surprised at how many people do. Dogs and puppies are two different creatures, and once folks realize that dogs aren't as cute, well ..."

He put everything in a bag. Ariel scratched the pup's ears. The dog's tail wagged even harder.

"At least he likes you," the man muttered.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, you'd be surprised how many people came in here because they saw him in the window. He growled at most of them."

"Really?"

The man nodded. "But he likes you. That's a start."

Ariel took out her checkbook. "Check to the Humane Society?"

"Yep." The man shoved the bag toward her. "I'll call them first thing. Time to get another of the dogs."

"I'm amazed you don't offer to do this more often," she said. "Think how many animals you could save."

The man raised his head and looked directly at her. "I used to, before I knew that I was supporting places like the one that damaged this little guy. Then I only took strays and animals that people brought in. I'd inoculate them, make sure everything was fine, and sell them for the vaccination fees."

"But?" Ariel asked.

"I couldn't part with them." He ran a hand on the puppy's back. The dog s.h.i.+vered but didn't pull away. "I never knew if they were going to good homes. I always wanted to tell people that if they treated the animal badly, I'd hunt them down and shoot them."

"Always good for business," Ariel said.

He looked at her. "I'm serious."

"I know," she said, not at all offended. "And I promise. I'll make sure he has a great life."

The man studied her for a moment, then nodded. "I believe you."

"Good." Ariel smiled. She attached the leash to the puppy's collar and picked him up. He didn't struggle against her like he had struggled against the man.

The puppy let her set him on the ground; then he began sniffing the floor like he had sniffed the countertop, inch by inch.

Ariel picked up the bag and stuck it under her arm. Then she clucked at the puppy who, to her surprise, stopped sniffing and heeled as if he had been doing it all his life.

"Well, I'll be," the man said as she led the dog to the door. "Remember, come back if there are problems."

"I will," she said and stepped outside.

The brightness made her blink after the gentle light in the pet store. The puppy looked up at her as if her hesitation made him nervous.

Then a car drove past and the puppy s.h.i.+ed. He hid behind her leg and whimpered again. She wouldn't be able to walk him across the parking lot. He was too little and probably would be startled by the strangeness of it all.

So she bent down and picked him up with one arm, cradling him against her as she walked to her car. He leaned his head on her wrist, his little body trembling. But the expected struggle never came.

She used her keyless entry to unlock the car, then set the bag in the backseat. She didn't have a dog carrier. She hoped the puppy would do all right beside her.

He went inside the car as if he knew it was the right thing to do. Then he sat in the pa.s.senger seat, unable to see over the dash. He had a calmness about him that was simply unnatural in any creature that young.

She climbed in beside him, closed the door, made sure the windows were up, and stuck the key in the ignition. The roar of an engine coming to life would scare him--she was certain of that. But she started the car, and the puppy's tail thudded against the seat. He looked at her as if he was ready for the adventure of his life.

She wasn't. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she began to regret her decision--not buying the puppy, but her decision to give the dog to Vari.

He would never know if she didn't show him the dog. But she had the oddest feeling that the puppy had been waiting for him and she was merely the delivery service.

She would stop at Quixotic and see if Vari agreed.

*Sixteen*

Darius sat on his stool in the kitchen, watching Blackstone create his latest dish. He was struggling to recreate some kind of vegetable pie he'd had during the Depression, and had made one of his a.s.sistants go to the store for lard not half an hour earlier.

Blackstone was leaning over the steel table, muttering, trying to remember which items were rationed and which ones weren't, which ones were cut so that the ingredients went farther, and which ones remained the same.

Darius supposed he could help--he had vivid memories of the Depression--but he didn't feel like helping. The kitchen was hot because the pastry chef had just finished her morning baking (she had stayed longer because Blackstone expected a rush on pies for reasons Darius couldn't fathom) and smelled of fresh bread.

Usually being in Quixotic calmed him, but not this morning. This morning, he wished he had taken up Ariel's offer and gone with her to brunch, even though she had only done it to make him feel better.

He was beginning to think he'd take her company no matter how grudgingly she offered it, and that att.i.tude was dangerous. The jealousy he'd felt at the race this morning was improper. He had to do his job as impartially as possible--and impartiality meant a lack of involvement.

"You listening?" Blackstone asked.

"Obviously not," Darius said, "or I would have been rudely ignoring you."

"As if that's far-fetched," Blackstone said. "I was wondering if they could have used near-beer. Was it still being made in Thirty-three?"

"Are you sure you ate this in Thirty-three?" Darius asked. "Because Prohibition was still going on in Thirty-one, so there would have been near-beer then."

Blackstone frowned as if he were trying to remember. As he did, the back door opened. Ariel leaned in.

She looked hesitant. Maybe she was in some kind of trouble. Darius slipped off his stool and instantly lost sight of her.

He suppressed a curse.

She stepped inside, and her face brightened when she saw him. Then that look vanished and the uncertainty returned.

"Hi," she said, completely ignoring Blackstone.

"Hi," Darius said, stepping out from behind the table's shadow. "Is everything all right?"

She bit her lower lip. "I may have made a mistake."