To Catch a Treat (5 page)

And whether he wanted me to offer it to her.

“I knew there was a reason I love my big sis,” he exclaimed before I was done.

Well, this, plus the fact I practically supported him. And I'd helped to raise him since our parents hadn't done much.

But I didn't mention that.

“I take that as a yes.”

“Yes!”

I soon hung up and returned to Icing. The next thing was to smooth over Dinah's feelings in advance. I told her there was something I needed to discuss with her and invited her to join me in the kitchen.

“Meantime, you can just sit at one of the tables and eat your scone,” I told Janelle. Although Icing was laid out exactly as the Barkery was, the floor was patterned in pale gold and brown, not blue. I'd hoped, when I chose the decor in here, that it would entice people to buy the similarly hued pastries.

When Janelle had taken a seat, I motioned for Dinah to follow me. I headed again to my tiny office and once more closed the door, this time behind my youthful, acne-faced and somewhat chubby—but absolutely wonderful—helper. I explained the situation to her, at least a bit, including that I didn't know if Janelle would accept an offer if I gave it, nor how well she'd do helping at the stores. “But if all goes well, it could help Neal.” Or ruin any possible relationship for him if it flopped, I realized, but I didn't mention that—either to Dinah or to Neal.

“It might be an interesting thing for me to base a story on,” Dinah mused. In addition to working for me, Dinah loved to write. I wasn't sure whether she'd ever gotten anything published, or even published anything on her own. She'd never told me anything other than how much she loved to create stories.

“Maybe,” I said. It might even get more interesting if I could figure out the Go situation. “So I'll go ahead and make the offer to her?”

“Sure,” Dinah agreed.

We both returned to Icing, and I invited Janelle to accompany me back into the Barkery, ostensibly so she could pick up Go and I could see my little Biscuit. I hadn't heard the bell on the door ring, so I didn't think we had any customers at the moment.

“Okay, here's the thing,” I said to Janelle after we got both dogs loose and sat down at one of the Barkery tables. “I could use some more part-time help at my stores, and you indicated you might be interested in working here. If you'd like, you can stay around for the rest of today and I'll show you how we do things. Then, if we're both happy about the situation, I'll offer you a job and we can work out a schedule and salary for you. What do you think?”

Instead of saying anything, Janelle rose, and I was suddenly engulfed in a huge hug from a thin yet very strong woman.

“Thank you, thank you,” she exclaimed.

“I take it that's a yes?” I said to her as I had to Neal.

“Yes!”

seven

For the rest of
the afternoon, I demonstrated how I liked clientele to be served, as well as how to count and pack up treats and use the electronic cash register. Dinah also stepped in and helped out. She seemed fine with the newcomer. But then, she was a great model for our part-timers to emulate.

I particularly liked Janelle's attitude. She watched what we did, then did it with our next customers. She asked a lot of questions, tasted both people and pet treats—something I encouraged everyone to do, since what we baked for dogs contained only the best, healthiest ingredients that humans could eat as well—and said she'd look forward to being taught how to bake this stuff.

Apparently always a photographer, Janelle also took photos of dogs and people eating treats. She always got their permission first, which was a good thing. And then, using her smart phone, she posted the shots on social media sites, mentioning how all the humans here in Knobcone Heights enjoyed sweets from Icing on the Cake and how the dogs always begged for more treats from Barkery and Biscuits.

I never quibbled with free publicity, as long as it was of the positive sort. And I really did like what she was doing.

At one point, when we were in the Barkery with confined Biscuit and leashed Go, I was about to ask Janelle what vet she took her dog to back in LA. But then some customers came in and I had to wait. It needed to be the right time, anyway, and sound casual.

But I intended to contact her regular vet and ask about any identifying characteristics Go had, like scars, to confirm whether “Boomer” and the black Lab now across the room from me shared those traits.

Sure, I wanted to like and to trust Janelle. So far, the former was definitely a possibility. I hoped things would work out for the latter as well, at least if she and Neal became an actual item. And for Go's sake—I was always happy when I saw a pet bond as a family member with its owner.

And what if Boomer wasn't Janelle's Go? What difference would it really make, with the two of them clearly so close now?

It wouldn't matter, as long as Go didn't belong to someone else. But what mattered most to me was my brother, and whether he was getting involved with a liar or a very lucky pet owner.

I was also amused when Janelle notified nearly every customer she waited on that she was putting together a big party at the Knobcone Heights Resort bar that night. It would be “no host,” after all, so she had decided not to pay for anyone else's food or drinks. But she was absolutely forthcoming about how thrilled she was that she had just found her lost dog Go and wanted everyone possible to join in the celebration.

I would certainly be there with Biscuit. I also called my clinic and spoke to Arvie and Reed. I invited them to come to the party and hoped they'd be there.

We had a lot of customers in both shops that day, including some of Neal's hikers from the other evening who said they hadn't come in yesterday but hoped they could still get samples.

Of course they could.

It was a fine time to be showing a new assistant both the good and bad things about busy bakeries, such as having to be patient with
people who took forever to make up their minds despite how many other folks were in line behind them. Or those who changed their minds even after some of the treats were packed and ready to go. Or who couldn't make up their minds whether to pay by cash or credit card. Some of the best buyers, at least, were those we'd given samples to.

I told Janelle the history of the two shops—how the former owner of Icing on the Cake, my good friend Brenda Anesco, had had to move down the mountain to care for her ailing mother and had not only sold her business to me but also supported my dividing the store into two shops. Plus, I passed along Brenda's favorite instruction about Icing's products: “Make them sweet, and make them good.”

Eventually the time neared six o'clock, our closing hour. “Here's what we do when we close up,” I told Janelle, and Dinah and I showed her that, too: how we locked the doors, including the one at the rear of the kitchen, got some things ready for the next day, and made sure that all computer and accounting information was locked in the office.

“This place is amazing,” Janelle gushed, and I again wondered if she was for real. “Will I see both of you at my party tonight?”

My answer was an unqualified yes. Dinah's was more equivocal, but she said she'd try.

We exited the door at the front of the Barkery, a necessity since Janelle and I had our dogs with us and could not walk through the kitchen. I locked it behind us, then told Janelle to come around to the back of the stores, where my white Toyota was parked, as well as Dinah's car. There was one other parking space. “If it's vacant, you can use it when you're on duty,” I told her. “We haven't really discussed it yet, but tomorrow afternoon I'll work with my assistant Vicky, our best scheduler, to put together a proposed schedule where you'll be able to work sometimes with Dinah and/or me, and also sometimes with our other part-timers.” We had already discussed Janelle's hourly rate by then, and she was okay with it, for now—until she had more experience.

Fortunately, with the amount of business we'd been getting, I could actually afford having this many assistants, especially since the majority only worked for me part-time.

“I guess that means I'd better not get too blasted at my party tonight,” Janelle said. “No matter how happy I am.” She bent and hugged Go, who panted a little and wagged his long black tail.

Biscuit jumped on my leg as if to remind me that she needed some attention, too, and I obliged. Then I opened my car door and watched her jump in. “See you in a little while,” I told Janelle. And wondered how the party would go.

I hurried home to feed Biscuit her regular dinner, not Barkery treats. Plus, I changed clothes and freshened up.

I wasn't sure why, but I really did want to party. Maybe because Reed had indicated that he, too, would be there. He had even offered to pick me up and drive me to the resort, but I'd demurred. This was far from being a date. But if he wanted to ask me out again another time, by ourselves, that would be a different story.

I'd received an email that day from Jack Loroco, a guy who'd expressed romantic interest in me as well as business interest in my Barkery treats. When I'd met him several months ago, he'd said that he hoped to buy some of my recipes if his employer, the national quality dog food manufacturer VimPets, gave him the go-ahead. He lived in LA. In his email, he said he was hoping to visit Knobcone Heights sometime during the next few weeks, but he didn't nail down a date.
Hopefully soon
, he wrote.

Just as well. I found the guy good-looking and otherwise attractive, but I was just as happy right now pursuing a possible relationship with Reed. I didn't need any distractions as long as things seemed to be progressing well.

I hadn't really gotten deeply involved with a man since I'd left a bad relationship behind in LA. I'd once believed that I'd found the love of my life—a handsome guy, a corporate executive named John who owned Rambo, one of the sweetest pit bulls I'd ever met. But to further his career, John decided to move to an upscale condo built by one of his company's affiliates. There were restrictions there about dogs—size and breed.

Without even discussing it with me, he'd decided to get rid of Rambo by dumping him at a public, high-kill shelter.

Fortunately, he admitted it to me in time for me to rescue Rambo. I helped to find the dog a new home through the vet clinic where I worked at the time. Then I dumped John the way he'd dumped Rambo, half wishing I could leave
him
in a high-kill shelter.

Since I wasn't sure how many people would be at the party that night, let alone dogs, I'd decided to leave Biscuit at home so I wouldn't have to worry about making sure she stayed right beside me and wasn't the subject of any other dog's playfulness or wrath. I took her out for a quick walk in the waning daylight. When I shut her into the kitchen, she scowled at me and cocked her head, as if objecting to this heinous treatment.

“I won't stay late,” I promised.

I arrived at the resort in my car a short while later, took a ticket from the machine at the entry, and tried not to think about how much parking in this lot would cost even with a validation for buying drinks and some snacks here. Neal, a peon on the resort's staff, could only help once in a while.

I found a spot fairly quickly, though not close to the door. Then I locked my car and headed in.

Good timing. On the way I saw Reed walking a row ahead of me and hurried to catch up with him. “Hi,” I called. He hadn't brought Hugo, either, so we'd both be dogless for the evening.

He turned immediately. “Hi,” he called back, stopping and grinning under one of the parking lot lights. When I reached him, I was pleased that he bent down and we kissed—not extremely sexily, but in a way that suggested more than remote friendship.

“So what are you anticipating for this evening?” he asked. “What's the situation with Janelle and her dog?”

Since I'd already explained to him over the phone all I knew, he was aware that I wanted to see the clinic file on the dog known as Boomer, for c
omparison once I'd gotten more information from Go's vet.

“Guess we'll just have to see how things evolve tonight,” I told him.

He bowed slightly, waving me through the door first in a gentlemanly manner, and I nodded my thanks, grinning.

The large reception area at the resort was crowded, as it was so often. I decided to first see if Neal was behind the desk before I headed to the bar to find out whether Janelle's festivities had started.

I gestured to Reed to join me. “I want to check on my brother,” I told him over the noise of the crowd.

We passed the offices along the outer wall. All were closed. As far as I knew from Neal's reports, the senior owners of the place, Trask and Susan Ethman, still weren't around much. They'd continued to leave management of the resort in the hands of their daughter Elise Ethman Hainner, ever since the death of the prior manager, their son Harris's wife, Myra.

When we reached the reception area, I saw my bro deep in conversation with slender, blonde Elise, who was dressed professionally, expensively, and well, with a perfectly made-up face. I'd known practically since my arrival at Knobcone Heights that the Ethmans had money, and this resort helped add to it. Elise's expression seemed amused, not irritated, so I figured Neal wasn't in trouble, even though he was currently occupied. “Let's head for the bar,” I said to Reed.

“Great. I could use a drink.”

Once more, we had to maneuver our way around groups of loudly chatting people. A few had dogs with them, and I half wished I'd brought along some treats for promotion. But that wasn't the reason I was here this evening, so it was just as well I'd come empty-handed.

Unsurprisingly, the bar was also busy. I'd looked around for Janelle on the way in but figured I was more likely to find her here, possibly with Go, celebrating their reunion. But I didn't see her here, either.

I started edging my way up to the bar, Reed close behind me. While I maneuvered, I studied the crowd. When I spotted Ada Arnist sitting on a stool toward my right, I headed in that direction.

The young, thin, highly bleached blonde was chatting with a guy who sat beside her. Judging by the serious expression on her face, they weren't flirting, so maybe she hadn't just met him.

That didn't matter to me. What did matter was what Ada knew about Janelle's having found Go—and whether she happened to know how the dog had gotten to Knobcone Heights.

Yes, I was probably stretching things, but I wondered, seeing Ada in the bar, whether Janelle or her friend Delma had told Ada about finding Go and invited her to the party. If so, was it because they suspected Ada of being the dognapper?

As we approached, I was glad to see someone vacate a stool on the other side of the guy Ada was talking to. I edged over there, around another woman who'd possibly staked it out, and quickly sat down. Then I turned back toward Reed. “I'll order for us here, and maybe we can take our drinks into the lobby soon if we can't find another seat.” But not immediately.

The bartenders were all busy. While waiting, I leaned forward over the bar and looked at Ada from behind the guy she appeared to be with. “Hi,” I said brightly. “Good to see you here again.” We'd originally met, after all, in this bar. “Are you here to celebrate with Janelle about finding her dog?”

“I sure am,” Ada gushed in her shrill voice, tearing her gaze from the guy. “It's so cool.”

The man who sat between us shifted on his stool. I didn't know who he was but figured it wouldn't hurt to find out. I tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned, I said, “Hi. Are you here with Ada to celebrate? I'd imagine everyone here tonight knows the story.”

The look the guy leveled on me looked more irritated than celebratory. He appeared to be mid-twenties, older than Ada. His eyes were sunken in his long face, and he wore a dark mustache plus a lot of beard shadow. “Yeah, I know the story,” he said. “Glad to hear the lady found her dog. That's it, right?”

“This is my friend Tim Smith,” Ada called from over his shoulder. “He lives near here. Do you know when Janelle is coming?”

“No.” But as I said it, I heard the crowd's noise ramp up. I turned and saw Janelle walk through the door. Because of the crowd, I couldn't tell for sure if Go was with her, but a lot of people were looking down and exclaiming and clapping, so I assumed he was.

Behind her, Delma also entered the room. She was carrying a Boston terrier. Delma didn't stay with Janelle; seeing me, she headed in my direction. “Can I borrow your stool for a minute?” she asked.