Pick and Chews Read online

  First stop: the Barkery. It looked delightfully busy as I opened the front door. Of course, the bell rang. I’d installed a bell over the doors to each of my stores. If my assistants and I were all in one store, or the kitchen, we’d know when someone entered.

  My full-time assistant Dinah Greeley, in a beige Barkery and Biscuits T-shirt, was behind the counter portioning out some of my healthy dog treats and talking to an older woman accompanied by what appeared to be a Shih Tzu puppy. Six other customers—some with dogs, including a golden retriever mix and a French bull—stood in line or peered through the glass into the refrigerated display case. Dinah didn’t appear rattled at all about the busyness of the place, though she shot me a welcoming grin as I came through the door.

  I’d inherited Dinah when I bought the original Icing on the Cake shop from my friend Brenda Anesco, who’d had to move away from Knobcone Heights to take care of her ailing mother. She had wholeheartedly approved of my turning it into the two shops. I always got a kick out of hard-working, dedicated Dinah, whose pudgy appearance always suggested that she got a kick out of working in a bakery and sampling its products. But Dinah was hard-working in other ways, too. She was a writer in her spare time and was always asking questions. So far she’d had some articles published, and she was also writing fiction.

  I wondered what she would think of Dr. Raela Fellner—and feared I’d have the opportunity to find out if the vet really did decide to settle in the area.

  Ugh. I didn’t need to think about that now. Instead, I maneuvered Biscuit and myself around the few tables. The blue tile floor of the Barkery was decorated in the center with a beige representation of a bone. I glanced through the door that led into my other shop. Three customers were present in Icing, and Vicky Valdez, one of my part-timers, seemed to have things under control. I got Biscuit situated in her open-topped pen in the corner of the Barkery and turned to face the crowd myself, smiling as I made my way behind the counter and through the door into the kitchen.

  I scrubbed my hands in the large sink located against the wall near the door. Since Dinah appeared to need more help than Vicky, that was where I headed. Of course, I also felt more of an affinity for the Barkery, since all the treats we sold there were either my own creations or had been developed on my behalf by a chef friend. Plus, I loved being around and thinking about animals, especially dogs.

  But like a lot of my customers, I enjoyed Icing and its products, too, so I seldom admitted my preference—although I assumed my closest friends could figure it out. My brother Neal, who lived in my home with me, certainly knew it.

  “Okay,” I called out as I got behind the counter beside Dinah. “Who’s next?”

  For the next half hour, we chatted with customers and filled their orders. We got a lot of positive feedback—and it didn’t hurt that I also gave out a few sample dog munchies to the canines who were present.

  A few of our visitors were repeat customers. Others were probably newcomers, maybe visitors to Knobcone Heights. All, of course, were welcome in my shop, and so were their dogs.

  When the line shortened to only two, I let Dinah know I was headed next door. “Glad you were here,” she said, a grin lighting her face.

  “Me too.”

  It was nearing closing time, and when I entered Icing there was only one customer present, a young woman with a child who seemed smitten by the different kinds of cookies. Icing was like a mirror image of the Barkery, although of course there was no dog enclosure. But it had a refrigerated display case, tables, and a floor composed of pale gold and brown tile meant to resemble the most luscious baked goods created for people.

  As I’d done in the Barkery, I gave the child a sample treat—a sugar cookie—with his mom’s okay. They then ordered a couple dozen cookies to take home.

  When they were gone, I looked at Vicky and heaved a sigh. Of relief? Of frustration at the way my day had gone earlier?

  Probably both.

  “You okay, Carrie?” Vicky’s black brows arched as she stared through her glasses at me. Was my unease obvious? She was wearing our promotional T-shirt, too—hers light green with an Icing on the Cake logo on it.

  “Pretty much. Just had some stress at the clinic, but I’m fine now.” I didn’t need to explain it all. Instead, I changed the subject. “So who’s on our schedule for tomorrow?” I’d found that of all my assistants, Vicky was the best at determining our part-timers’ schedules.

  “I’ve already contacted Janelle and Frida. Of course Dinah will be here all day, but the rest of us decided to each take a few hours, shifting between the shops like we’ve done before.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “Thanks for putting it together.”

  “It’s always my pleasure.” Vicky grinned, and I knew she meant it. I certainly was okay at scheduling, but she excelled at it—and at keeping me informed so I could pay my staff appropriately.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket. It was nearly six p.m. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s begin closing up for today.”

  With her help and Dinah’s, I locked the doors, including the one at the back of the kitchen that led to the parking lot. I rearranged the leftovers that would be fresh enough to sell the next day. Then I packed up some treats from the Barkery to give away, either to the clinic or Mountaintop Rescue, and some from Icing for a charity down the mountain who would send someone to get it soon. I let my employees go for the day, but before I left I checked to make sure all the computer and accounting information for both stores was locked in my office off the kitchen.

  Then I picked up my purse from its drawer and returned to the Barkery to get Biscuit. She’d been a good girl, of course, greeting doggy customers with nose sniffs if they came up to her enclosure, and sleeping part of the time. Now she was clearly ready to go home.

  So was I.

  I made sure the lights were mostly off except for a dim one kept lit for security, locked the front door behind me, and walked Biscuit slowly around the building to my car. I settled her into her harness in the back seat and myself into the driver’s seat—and just sat there for a minute.

  I wondered again why Reed had cancelled our dinner plans without saying why. Was it just his terrible mood after the encounter with Raela?

  Or was he having dinner with her?

  Now, where had that thought come from? Probably my inner insecurity and curiosity about what their relationship might have been in the past.

  I knew that my brother, Neal, was spending the evening with his girlfriend, Janelle, and I didn’t want to bother him—or her, for that matter. She was not only his girlfriend and one of my assistants at the shops, but also an excellent professional photographer. And a friend of mine, too.

  But I also didn’t particularly want to be alone that night—not even with my adorable Biscuit. I decided to call Billi to see if she wanted to meet for dinner.

  And was delighted that she did.

  This would be a good thing for more than one reason. I would have company that evening—and I might learn why Raela had visited Billi, and Mountaintop Rescue, earlier that day.

  We chose to eat at Billi’s house that night. She said she would stop on her way home and pick up pizza, and that was fine with me.

  As a Matlock, Billi was a member of one of Knobcone Heights’ most elite families, so she lived in an amazing part of town. Her place was a gorgeous stone mansion near the top of Pine Lane. Gorgeous? Heck, it seemed majestic. As I often thought after pulling up in front of it, all Billi’s place needed was a moat to look like a genuine European castle. The large front door was made of ornately carved wood, and round towers of stone decorated each side.

  After parking, I got Biscuit out of my aging car that didn’t fit this mansion-filled area and headed to the door. I rang the bell and could hear it toll inside. Billi answered nearly immediately.

  “Hi, Carrie.” We shared a hug as I entered.

  Unsurprisingly, her dogs had barked at the noise and now greeted Biscuit and me. She ha
d two dogs: Fanny, a Beagle mix, and Flip, a black Lab—both rescues she’d adopted from her own shelter.

  Despite its vintage outer appearance, the inside of Billi’s house looked contemporary and well-maintained. As usual, we headed for the huge dining room, where Billi had set two places at the antique table.

  I was still wearing the clothes I’d had on at my shops, including one of my Tshirts beneath my jacket, this one promoting Icing. Billi was dressed more casually than she’d been earlier—in a T-shirt, too, unsurprisingly with Mountaintop Rescue on it and a depiction of several dogs and cats.

  First off, we got the dogs settled down around us, mostly with gentle commands but also thanks to some treats I’d brought from the Barkery. After Billi poured shiraz wine into fine glasses for us, she and I helped ourselves to the meal she’d laid out on the table, including salads.

  Then we began talking.

  “So tell me what’s going on.” She looked at me with her inquisitive deep brown eyes, her head cocked. Billi was one lovely lady in addition to being a City Council member, a spa owner, and an animal lover. She was slender, with long, highlighted dark hair and a beautiful face with high cheekbones and full lips.

  “I just had a really weird day,” I replied, but before describing it to her I needed to know more. “When I got to Mountaintop Rescue, I saw you with Dr. Raela Fellner. Did you know her?” I assumed they’d just met, but I preferred that Billi explain the circumstances.

  “Not really. She came to the shelter a little while before you got there and asked if she could talk with me. She indicated that she’d just come to town to look into the possibility of starting a veterinary practice and wanted to learn all she could about Mountaintop Rescue and whatever other facilities there were in our area for animals. And did I know if there were any legitimate dog or cat breeders, whatever. Why do you ask?”

  I described what had happened at the vet clinic, without getting into my concerns about Reed and what he thought of this potential intruder into the area’s veterinary community.

  But Billi was nothing if not shrewd. “I wondered where Reed was tonight and why you wanted to get together with me. I also wondered earlier why this woman was considering opening another veterinary hospital in this small town when we have a fine one here already. Now I can guess.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I sighed. “As you know, our clinic has a well-deserved great reputation around here. The only way I figure some competitor could succeed would be to spread lies, on social media or otherwise, claiming our patients don’t do well. Or maybe she’d cut her prices enough to make it impossible for Knobcone Vet Clinic to remain competitive.”

  “Or both. And it would be a shame.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It would.” I took a bite of salad and chewed it slowly as I pondered how either threat could be countered appropriately.

  “After you and Raela left,” Billi said, “Shea and I talked about what he’d seen at the clinic earlier. He mentioned that Raela had seemed completely out of control and angry, and he wasn’t sure what was going on.”

  “I wonder what his legal mind thought of it all.”

  “Me too. I could just see him cogitating about who could sue whom.” Billi laughed, then looked at her slice of pepperoni pizza before taking a bite. “He’s been spending quite a bit of time at the shelter. He might be a lawyer, but he’s also an animal lover—and that’s a good thing.”

  “Yes,” I said, “it is.” The expression on Billi’s face suggested she was impressed by Shea in more than one way … including romantically?

  Maybe. She hadn’t mentioned Jack Loroco much lately. Jack was a senior product manager at VimPets, the large and successful pet food manufacturer that had finally succeeded in buying a recipe from me. Billi and Jack had had a budding relationship last fall, or so it had seemed. But although he’d rented a home in the area, he hadn’t spent a lot of time in Knobcone Heights recently. Or if he had, I wasn’t aware of it.

  Maybe that was because he’d been a suspect in a local murder … as had Billi.

  I took a sip of shiraz. I could ask Billi who was currently in her headlights, but I figured we were close enough that she would tell me, when she was ready, if there was any change. Otherwise, I could assume that Jack and she remained an item. A long-distance item.

  “So are we still on for the adoption event scheduled at the Barkery on Saturday?” Billi asked.

  “Absolutely, as far as I’m concerned.” Today was Wednesday, so we still had a few days to get everything into place. We’d already held several similar events over the past few months, when Billi and her crew and volunteers from Mountaintop Rescue would bring some of their most adoptable pets to the Barkery and introduce them to my customers and other visitors. Both the shelter and I did as much publicity as we could to lure people in, so that they could at least meet some of the adoptable animals.

  So far, we’d found homes for maybe eighty percent of the pets brought to the adoption events. It was a wonderful record. I hoped it remained that good on Saturday.

  The rest of our meal went well. We talked a lot about animals—no big surprise. Nothing further about the vet clinic or any potential competition to it, though.

  And nothing at all about our respective romantic relationships. I kind of wanted to tell Billi how upset I was with Reed, although I realized I could just be imagining my suspicions.

  But he had called off dinner with me. And whenever that little fact poked its way back into my consciousness—which was a lot—it hurt.

  Eventually, we were finished eating. I insisted on helping Billi bus and clean our dinner dishes. Later, we took our dogs out for a walk.

  Then it was time to leave. Time for my mind to go back to—what else? Reed. And tonight. And wondering …

  A short while later, I pulled my car up to my house, located in what was probably the nicest middle-class area of Knobcone Heights—pleasant and appealing—but nothing like the mansionized area where Billi lived. A good thing, really. I wasn’t sure how well I’d do living in a neighborhood like that.

  I drove down the narrow driveway to my charming one-story home, Biscuit now a bit restless in the backseat. She knew where we were. But before I reached for the button to open the garage door, my phone hummed its song. I glanced at it. Reed.

  I reached for my Bluetooth button, stopped the car, and girded myself for whatever conversation was to come.

  It was in some ways the best I could have anticipated.

  “Hi, Carrie,” Reed said. “Are you at home?”

  “Just arriving. I had a nice evening with Billi.” Out of nastiness my mind reached for the name of some guy I could claim to have spent the evening with, but heck. Just because Reed was being difficult didn’t mean I needed to be, too.

  He might feel guiltier this way, after all.

  And he did, in fact, apologize. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry about how I acted before. It’s just that—well, this isn’t the time to get into it, although I bet you can guess at least some of it. I’m just getting home, too. I had dinner tonight with the men I used to work with, Oliver and Jon. It was nice to see them again.”

  “Did they—or you—have any idea which one Arvie preferred? Is he going to make either of them a job offer?”

  “I don’t know yet, and they didn’t either. But they both liked Arvie and the others they met at the clinic, including you. If Arvie does choose one of them, I’ll bet whoever it is will accept the job.”

  “That would be nice.” I hoped. Reed knew them, but I didn’t.

  Either would, of course, be preferable to their female coworker who’d shown up in town …

  I found myself glaring toward my garage door and nearly laughed at myself.

  “Anyway,” Reed said, “I hope you’re still available for dinner tomorrow night. I know you don’t have a shift at the clinic, and even if you did, we couldn’t really talk there. So will you join me after work at the Arrowhead Diner?”

  That was one of o
ur favorite restaurants, out-of-town and cute, with good food.

  And a fair atmosphere for conversing.

  I nearly played coy, hoping to get him to convince me. But that wasn’t really me. Nor was it in keeping with the relationship I thought we were developing.

  Even so, I had to ask. “You’re sure you’ll be able to make it?”

  I heard him laugh. “I figured you’d say something like that. And I hope you know I’ll get down on my figurative knees and beg you to join me.”

  “That works for me.” I laughed, too. Reed promised to pick me up around six thirty at my house—with our dogs joining us.

  We said good night and hung up. And as I finally drove into my garage, I told myself I should be delighted that things appeared to be getting back to normal.

  But that would depend on what Reed said in the conversation we were soon to have.

  Four

  I wasn’t surprised that Neal was home when Biscuit and I entered. Nor that he was sitting in the living room on the fluffy and aging beige couch, watching a reality show on the TV mounted on the wall—a show that took contestants around the world vying for lots of money and the potential continuation of their fame. It was one of his favorites.

  What was surprising was that after Biscuit and I came in and Neal greeted his favorite dog—or “Bug,” as he calls her—he looked at me with worry on his face.

  A face that greatly resembles my own. Neal was twenty-nine years old, four years younger than me, but taller. We share the Kennersly longish nose and blunt chin, as well as fairly sharp cheekbones. On the whole, we don’t look too bad—or at least that’s my opinion.

  And we are close. Our parents divorced and both remarried, favoring their new families over us. I was now helping my little brother, who made less money than I did, by letting him live in my house and pay me minimal rent. But his emotional support was priceless.

  “So how was dinner with Janelle?” I asked. Neal and Janelle did spend some nights together, but I’d gathered earlier that this was unlikely to be one of them.

  “Fine. Great, in fact. But … ”