Page 116 of Worst in Show

It’s quiet and dark upstairs when I enter the store through the back door thirty minutes later. Harvey is typically an early riser, but who knows how long Sylvia stayed after I left. The two of them have a never-ending vault of conversation topics it seems, and as much as I know I was a welcome third party, I don’t think either of the two were sad to see me go once we’d finished our burgers and truffle fries. Yes, burgers. Fancy ones. She knows her way to Pop’s heart, that’s for sure. I like them together.

I tiptoe to the front desk, grab my sewing machine, and bring it into the storage room. It’s not an ideal workspace, but I don’t want to wake anyone up. It’s odd that not even Cholula has stirred. She’s a light sleeper and normally hears the mail truck at the end of the block. She must be extra tired, too, from having Harvey back.

Around seven forty-five, I’m caught up on Etsy orders and pat myself on the back for not lingering on Micki’s couch this morning. I stretch and yawn. Then I wrap my coat around me to go get the paper since I know Harvey is going to want that with his breakfast.

As I step outside, Dawn unlocks the front door of Canine King to do the same. She sees me and waves. “How are you, hon?” she calls, stepping closer to the curb.

A car goes by between us, then another. This is no way to have a conversation. I look both ways, and when the coast is clear, I jog gingerly across the salted roadway. She gives me a hug when I reach her.

“Jaz said you’d be taking over today,” I say. “You’ll have to let me know if you have any questions or anything I can help with.”

“He left a list.” Dawn smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

I nod. “Of course, he did.”

For a moment, neither one of us seems to know what to say, but then Dawn puts her hand on my arm. “If it makes you feel any better, Diane and I told him in no uncertain terms he’s acting a fool and then some. All the work he’s done since he came to stay with us—for nothing.”

“Yeah…” I pinch my coat tighter at the neck. “I don’t get it.”

“Have you heard from him?” she asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t expect to. We didn’t leave things in a great place.”

“Aw, hon.” Another hug. It makes me want to cry again.

“Have you?”

“He texted Diane last night to check in on Tilly. Sounds like the interview went well, or whatever you want to call it. Said he has a second one today at some fancy restaurant.”

I was wrong, having it confirmed does not make it better. “Well, there you have it.”

Dawn’s face pulls into an apologetic grimace. “I’m sorry. But don’t lose heart yet. As much as he tries to hide it, he does have a good head on his shoulders. He could come to his senses.”

I’m not holding my breath. I wave the newspaper in front of me. “I should bring this to Harvey,” I say. “Good luck today.”

“And to you, tomorrow. We’ll come cheer you on.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense.” A genuine smile now. “We’ll be there.”

I enter the store, cold both of body and heart, but now there’s life upstairs—Harvey’s cane-supported gait and the pitter patter of doggy toenails. My stomach rumbles. I find Harvey at the table with a fresh cup of coffee in his hands. “You’re up early,” he says. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that.” I get myself a mug and sit down. Boris is in his old favorite spot near Harvey’s feet, and Cap sits next to him, following Harvey’s hand from table to mouth as he eats his English muffin. “Where’s Cho?” I ask, not seeing her.

“On her bed. Still snoozing.”

I squint at the shaded hallway. That doesn’t sound like her. I get up to have a look. Sure enough, she’s still curled into a ball in the middle of her blankets, but when I crouch down next to her, she lifts her head slightly and looks at me through heavy lids. A low whine escapes her, and her head drops back onto the pillow.

“What’s wrong, girl?” I ask, running my fingers across her head. Then I see it—the paw she cut on the snow is twice its normal size.

Our regular vet isn’t open yet, so the pet ER it is. I cradle Cholula in my arms as we wait our turn and tell her what a good girl she is and how the doctor will make everything better. She tries to lick my face but doesn’t have the energy to reach all the way, so instead her tongue flops limply against my jacket. “I know,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”

The fact is, I haven’t got her. I let Leo distract me, and Cho ran out and got hurt. I’m responsible for this. I swallow against the knot in my throat. She’ll get better, she has to. I stroke Cho’s side and inspect the angry limb. Her foot is shiny and distended, a balloon ready to pop. Poor thing.

“We’re ready for Cholula,” the assistant says from the doorway.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. I’ve got my hands full.

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