Page 43 of Worst in Show

“They’re looking forward to it.” He glances at me, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. How is he so at ease in this situation? “The more people the merrier. But I should warn you, they’re pretty nosy, so prepare for the third degree.”

That makes me even more flustered. “Is it okay if I open a window?”

“Knock yourself out.”

The cool air helps. “You should warn them they’ll be disappointed. I’m not particularly interesting.”

“You sure about that?” He looks at me again, longer this time. “Everyone has secrets.”

I snort. “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You’re my opposition, remember? I’m not going to supply the ammunition.”

“This again? I mean, I’m obviously going to win the fifteen grand, but I’m telling you, Canine King’s existence doesn’t mean an automatic eradication of Happy Paws.”

He really believes it, I can tell. Wall Street must have messed him up. How do I make him see it the way I do? “Remember at the launch—there was a woman there with two black labs?” I ask.

“Sure.”

“And that couple in matching parkas with the beagle?”

“Yeah?”

“And the lady with the tight gray perm who was talking to your aunt?”

“What’s your point?”

“I know all of them.” I rattle off their names as well as the names of their dogs. “They’ve been loyal to Harvey for years, and yet, there they were, in your store. So you’ll have to forgive me if I have a slightly different take on this situation.”

He looks like he’s thinking hard. Did I finally get through his thick skull?

“I see what you’re saying, but—”

I groan. Apparently not.

“No, no, hear me out.” He switches hands on the wheel. “What you’re saying is, you can only be successful if you get to keep doing things the way you’ve always done them, for the same customers you’ve always had with complete monopoly.”

Successful might be a stretch…

He continues. “You’re assuming because they’ve checked out Canine King that they’ll deem it superior when what you should be doing is ensuring they won’t. I’m the underdog here. You’re already established.”

I frown at him. Pop used the same term.

“Take the Winter Fest show—have you already decided you can’t win?”

“No, I wouldn’t be here if I had.”

“Right. And yet you view the ‘competition’ between our stores as a done deal. Why?”

“There you go again, admitting we’re competitors.”

“No, I used air quotes. My point is, you’re going to do your best to win first place at the dog show, why not do your best to be number one in business, too? You might find something positive will come of it.”

Am I going nuts or is he making sense? The urge to argue is still there, but I’m having a hard time coming up with a rebuttal. “It wouldn’t bother you if Happy Paws did better than Canine King?”

“Not at all. It would inspire me to keep up.”

I shake my head and look away. “You’re weird.”

He lets out a hearty laugh that makes my cold, cold ticker warm at the edges. “I’ll take it.”

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