Six

Phyllis didn’t actually refuse Misty’s plea. She simply got into her car, shut the door, and motored off.

Breathing hard, Misty tried to think rationally. So the Phyllis thing hadn’t worked out. That didn’t mean Misty had to stay. She’d never signed a doggy care contract. Her music tutoring obligation was met. She could leave in good conscience.

But her conscience was doing the rhumba. Lawrence had just quit the movie because she’d forced a confrontation by bringing Phyllis along. How was she going to fix that? She had to do something fast before the tourists made for the bus. As she regarded the swarming visitors, her stomach clenched. The last thing she wanted to do was rejoin that milling crowd of people, but there was no other way. Mumbling a prayer that God would help her fix the disaster she’d just created, she jogged back just in time to find Tom corralling his tourists.

“Change of plans,” he said. “We’re going to head up the coast to Half Moon Bay. There’s some great shopping there.”

“Oh, don’t do that,” she said. “I’m sure Mr. Tucker will come out in a minute. You won’t want your group to miss him or their visit to Albatross. It’s so quaint.”

Tom’s brows knitted together in a frown, his voice low. “Listen, lady. The only reason I stopped at this Podunk town was to see a movie star. No star, no stay.” He straightened. “All right, everyone. Back to the bus,” he chirped.

Misty looked quickly, hoping Bill hadn’t overheard the Podunk town comment, but he was standing amid a sea of tourists, Fiona still on his shoulders. She thought about the chocolate violins and the balloons decorating the front window of the chocolate shop. All that work and expense for nothing. She wanted to leap behind the wheel of the bus and drive them all back to town whether they wanted to go or not, but her feet were rooted to the spot.

There was only one option. She had to convince Lawrence to quit his pouting and greet his public before they all left. “Give me a minute. I’m sure I can persuade him to come out.”

Hurrying to his trailer door, she knocked.

“Mr.…I mean Lawrence, you have to open the door. Your fans are waiting to see you.”

Nothing.

She pounded harder. “Please, Lawrence. I’m sorry I brought Phyllis here, but there are people counting on you.”

Still no sound of movement. Anger simmered in her veins. If she, Misty Agnelli, could face this mob of uncertainty, surely a seasoned actor could pull himself together enough to do a meet and greet. What happened to that “time to let it shine” philosophy?

She was about to pound for the third time when she felt a hand on her back. She whirled to see the tiny lady in a pink hat, only now she got a good look at the age-spotted face underneath the brim.

“Nana?” she managed.

Her grandmother beamed. “Well, look at you here, Misty Agnelli. My sweet granddaughter running things on a film set.”

Conflicting emotions zigzagged through her insides as she wrapped Nana Bett, slippery in her pink raincoat, in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t you see me waving earlier? I’m on the tour to see Lawrence Tucker.” Her expression grew reverent as she put a hand to the trailer door. “Imagine being this close to him.”

“Did you see what just happened, Nana? He had a fight with the director, and he quit the film.”

She clamped on her pink hat to keep the breeze from taking it. “Oh, that was merely some drama served up for our benefit. He wouldn’t really quit. Cinema is his life.”

“But his dog…”

She laughed merrily. “I saw that. An absolute hoot. I haven’t laughed so hard in years.” Her eyes sparkled, and Misty noticed a healthy flush on her cheeks. “So,” she said, voice dropping conspiratorially. “What’s it like to be his assistant?” She gave Misty’s chin a pinch. “I’m so proud of you—being here with all these people around. I know it must be tricky, but you’re obviously doing great.”

No one had a better picture of Misty’s difficulties than her nana, but this time the woman was way off.

“Actually…”

“This is the very thing I’ve been praying would happen, Misty,” she said, squeezing Misty’s hand. “God’s given you that little push to step out into the world. And here you are.”

Here I am, she thought. With a movie star locked in his trailer, a dog hunkered in the belly of a Sherman tank, and tourists streaming back onto the bus, leaving behind a store full of chocolates.

Tom bustled over. “Ms. Agnelli, the bus is leaving now. Please take your seat.”

“Thank you, Tom, but I’ll find my own way home.”

He frowned. “You’ve paid for a seat. It’s not refundable.”

“Nana,” Misty started. Her grandma was on a fixed income. Rather than reside with the Agnelli family in Sausalito, Nana lived in a tiny apartment in a retirement community in Berkeley, the city she’d adored for a lifetime. The Agnellis did their best to make sure she had some nice-to-haves, but Nana was a proud person who always insisted on paying her own way. She would have had to save to afford a bus tour.

Nana held up a hand. “Tom, this is my granddaughter, Misty Agnelli. She works on the film as Mr. Tucker’s assistant.”

Tom looked sympathetically at Nana. “I’m sure she’ll find another job.” And then he spun on his heel and walked away.

“What is he talking about?” Nana said. “Mr. Tucker is having a short time-out, that’s all. He’s a professional.”

“Nana…” Misty started again.

An actor wearing fatigues, a helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads and holding a broom waddled into view.

Nana stared. “What’s he supposed to be?” she whispered.

The man paused to straighten his helmet and then staggered toward the tank. Misty remembered his name was Larry.

“What are you doing, Larry?” Misty asked, a worrisome thought taking root.

“Wilson says I’m to get that dog out of the tank.”

“Oh, he’ll come out when he’s hungry,” she said hastily. “There’s no need for drastic measures.”

“The director said if I don’t get that dog out of that tank in ten minutes, he’s calling the police.”

The police? What exactly were they supposed to do? Send in a SWAT team?

Larry readied his broomstick and approached the tank.

“You aren’t going to hurt Jellybean, right?” Misty called.

“Hurt him? That dog nipped me right in the rear yesterday. This broomstick is for my own protection.”

Bill joined in, Fiona still on his shoulders. Misty introduced them to Nana Bett.

Fiona regarded the granny in pink with a shy smile.

“You know, I am sure I have a lollipop here in my purse. Let me look.” She began to rummage through her cavernous bag. Misty smiled. Nana was constantly picking up freebies from the bank and doctors’ offices. “In case I find someone who needs a blessing,” she would say.

Bill tracked Larry’s progress as he climbed toward the turret.

“How about if you open the escape hatch?” Bill called.

“How’s that?” Larry said, struggling to climb while holding on to the broomstick.

“The escape hatch.” Bill pointed. “It’s on the bottom. Maybe Jellybean will climb out on his own.”

Nana Bett momentarily stopped her rummaging. “Well, aren’t you clever to know about that.”

Bill chuckled. “Saw it on a TV program one time.”

“Clever,” Nana said. Misty thought there was a calculating arch to her brow.

Don’t get any ideas, she wanted to say. I’m. Leaving. This. Town. Immediately.

Larry nodded. “Oh, yeah. Good idea.”

Bill put Fiona down next to Nana Bett, who produced a red lollipop and pulled off the plastic. “Here you go, sweetie. I knew I had a treat in here for such a darling girl.”

Fiona took the candy and put it in her mouth while Bill crawled under the tank and waited for Larry to burrow down inside. Together they opened the escape hatch. Larry popped his head out of the hole.

“No sign of Jellybean, but I’m—Ouch!” he hollered. “It’s a surprise attack!” What followed was a loud clanking and rattling, a series of angry invectives, and one ominous clang. Larry scrambled out the escape hatch, his helmet askew, rubbing his shoulder.

“That’s it,” he yelled, throwing the helmet on the ground. “I don’t care if they have to send in the seventh fleet to get that mutt. He’s not biting me in the buns anymore, do you hear?”

Larry shook his fist at no one in particular and stomped away.

Misty had a sudden flash of inspiration.

She turned to her trailer. “Be back in a minute, Nana.” She returned with the violin. Standing close to the tank, she played the second movement of Mozart’s Fifth Violin Concerto.

Bill, Fiona, and Nana Bett stared at her. She didn’t have time to explain the dog’s strange fascination with music. It took no more than twenty measures for a wee canine head to peek cautiously out of the hatch.

“Come on out, Jellybean,” she said, still playing softly. “It’s time to end this skirmish.”

After another few bars, Jellybean slithered out, sitting under the body of the tank, listening with rapt attention.

“Bravo, Misty,” Bill called.

Part of her thrilled to hear him say it.

She stopped playing, transferred the bow and violin to one hand, and bent to grab Jellybean’s leash with the other.

With a quick swish of his tail, Jellybean shot from under the tank and beelined across the field, headed toward town.

Misty groaned. Not again. She handed the instrument to her grandmother and took off in pursuit.

“See that?” she heard Nana say as she raced away. “Misty is taking care of everything.”

Bill wanted to sprint after Misty, but he couldn’t leave Nana Bett and Fiona behind. Nana was eyeing him closely.

“So you’re a friend of Misty’s?” she asked.

“Yes. We just met two days ago.” He laughed. “Ironically, she showed up at my store looking for Jellybean.” He told her about his chocolate shop and his imperiled plans for a “grand opening,” trying not to let his disappointment show.

“Oh, I see,” she said. “And all your customers just drove away in the tour bus, didn’t they?”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

She pursed her lips. “You know, Bill, my husband, Nigel, was a singer and dancer. He was a smash eventually, but sometimes during the early years of our marriage, he would show up to perform and there would be no one there. Not a soul. You know what he did?”

“No, ma’am.”

“He sang and danced for the janitor or the cook, anyone in the building. ‘Never waste a stage,’ he’d say.”

“Sounds like quite a man.”

“He was. He was a brilliant entertainer, and he even did some movie work. Just when he really hit the big time, he was thrown from a horse and became a paraplegic.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There was a silver lining. The accident changed both our lives in ways we could never imagine and introduced us both to Jesus.” She winked. “I’ll tell you more about it sometime.”

Bill looked down at the tiny woman with the sparkling eyes and the jaunty pink hat. “Ma’am, I would love to hear more about your husband. Would you care to go to town and enjoy some premium chocolates while I help Misty find that dog?”

She crooked her arm in his. “I would be delighted, sir. Lead on.”

Bill found Larry, who was applying a carefully placed ice pack, and told him he needed some transportation. Then he helped himself to one of the three golf carts that sat idle outside Larry’s trailer. It didn’t seem like anyone would be inconvenienced if he borrowed one for a while. Besides, he was technically on movie business since they were going to assist in tracking down the star’s dog. He helped Nana Bett aboard and sandwiched Fiona between the two of them.

Fiona bounced up and down with excitement, and he had to admit, zooming along in the golf cart was more fun than he’d had in a long time. It wasn’t quite the same as riding horseback down a mountain trail, but it was close. Nana Bett clapped her hat on with one hand and chortled with every bump and lurch, which made him seek out all the divots he could. There was no sign of Misty as they traversed the mile and a half back to town. She must have peeled off toward the beach or behind the hotel. He figured he’d get Nana settled in the chocolate shop with Gunther and head out to find Misty.

When they arrived at Chocolate Heaven, Gunther was sitting in a folding chair on the porch in a pool of sunshine, dozing. The balloons drifted in the wind, softly bonking him on the head.

“Minding the shop, I see,” Bill said.

Gunther opened one eye and yawned. “Nothing to mind. What happened to all these tourists we’ve been killing ourselves over?”

Bill shook his head. “They skipped town.”

“All except this one,” Nana Bett said, stepping forward and extending her hand. “I’m Bett Agnelli. I’m here to see this amazing chocolate.”

Gunther shook her hand. “Might as well. Isn’t exactly a crowd here today.” He led them into the shop and showed Bett the sweets in the glass case. “And this one here’s filled with dark chocolate mousse.”

Nana Bett exclaimed over each and every confection. Gunther warmed to his topic. “And that there is kind of a combo, you see, with the milk chocolate and the dark. Let me get you one to try.”

While she sat at a table and Gunther offered one treat after another, Fiona crept closer, book in hand.

Nana looked over. “Would you like me to read to you, Miss Fiona?”

Fiona looked down, suddenly shy.

“She doesn’t talk, but I know she would love a story,” Bill said.

Nana nodded. “I thought she was pretty quiet. When Misty was five, her daddy had a bad car accident, and Misty took it very hard. It was difficult to get her to say anything either.”

Bill wondered if that had kick-started Misty’s anxiety.

Bett confirmed his suspicion with her next words. “All that fear about her daddy sort of got stuck inside her, took away her confidence. She was always a shy child anyway, but after that…” Bett sighed. “Well, she had to be coaxed from the house. Still does.”

Fiona climbed up.

Nana Bett launched into the pig and the pony story, rendering every page with gusto. As Bill grabbed a jacket in preparation to help with the Jellybean search, he tried to listen closely so he could tell Fiona the story just the same way later when the child inevitably would want it of him. Nana Bett was a natural storyteller, and he knew he couldn’t do her rendition justice. Maybe he could get her to record it before she left.

As he seized the door to open it, Misty appeared, hair tousled and cheeks red.

“Hey,” Bill said.

“Hi.” She sucked in a breath and caught sight of her grandmother. “Oh, hi, Nana. How did you get here?”

“I had a thrilling ride in a golf cart with Bill and Fiona,” she said. “And now I’m stuffing myself full of chocolates and storybooks. Best day ever. Did you find Jellybean?”

“No,” Misty answered. “But I found this guy.”

A big dog waddled into the shop, panting hard, tongue unfurled like a fluttering flag.

Gunther did a double take. “Lunk? Just how did you get out this time?”

“I found him behind the hotel. Vivian said he was yours. He got into the garbage can and was eating dill pickles and a baguette.”

“A baguette?” Gunther snorted, grimacing at his dog. “You didn’t hear the doc say you’re getting chubby?”

Lunk licked his rubbery lips and collapsed with a wheeze onto the floor, immediately settling into a doze. “He’s become a regular Houdini the past few months.”

The phone rang, and Bill snatched it up. “Hello?” He listened to the ranting for a moment. “I understand. We’ll be right over.” He hung up.

“What?” Misty said, trying to read his expression. “You have a funny look. I can’t tell if it’s good news or bad.”

“That was Vivian Buckley over at the hotel. She says she knows where you can find Jellybean, and he’d better stay away from her Tinka.”

Gunther rubbed a hand over his cheeks. “This town is going to the dogs.”

“Literally,” Bill said.