Chapter 5

“What was that all about?” Harry asked me. With one eyebrow raised in inquiry he glanced from Mr. Swendson’s retreating back to me.

“That was Mr. Swendson,” I said. “Of Swendson’s Dog Food.”

Harry’s head snapped in the direction of the man in the sharp suit, and his mouth formed a small O.

“Did Aunt Betty . . . ?”

“Yes,” I said. “With a finger in his face and everything.”

“Oh, no.”

“I tried to distract him by throwing Viv in his line of sight but Aunt Betty was not to be deterred.”

“Thus, the new name Cedric,” he said. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth and I basked in the glow of his amused affection. “Nice try, Ginger.”

I shrugged. “For all the good it did,” I said. Then I downed the Pink Poodle in one big gulp.

“Aunt Betty.” Harry turned to his aunt. “I thought we talked about not confronting Mr. Swendson, knowing that it might adversely affect Freddy’s chances at winning best in show.”

“Pff.” Aunt Betty puffed out a breath. Then she lifted her own glass to her lips. She was about to upend the contents when Nick deftly lifted the glass out of her hands. She protested but he raised it to his nose and gave it a sniff.

“Gin,” he said. “A double, if I’m not mistaken.”

“It was to settle my nerves,” Aunt Betty said. “You know, in case the bad person who left the note showed up.”

“How many?” Harry asked.

“Nerves?” Aunt Betty asked. “Well, quite a few, I’d say.”

“That’s not what I meant, Aunt B, and you know it.” Harrison kept his gaze steady and Aunt Betty tipped her nose up and turned away.

“I’m not a child, Harrison Wentworth,” she said. “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t treat me as one.”

Her indignation, while well played, didn’t move Harry in the least.

“Aunt Betty, I think it would be best if you and Freddy called it a night,” he said. “There’s just too many people to keep track of and I don’t like the risk that someone could slip something to Freddy without us seeing. Plus, Swendson didn’t look pleased and if he points you out to the PAWS chairpersons, you might find yourselves bounced from the competition.”

Aunt Betty blinked. “But we already paid. They can’t do that.”

“Trust me, when money talks—” he began but Nick interrupted him.

“Bulldogs walk.”

We all looked at him. “What? It’s true.”

Viv, who had finished her drink as well, reached out and straightened Aunt Betty’s bowler.

“I’m getting ready to leave, too,” Viv said. “I’ll walk out with you.”

“Me, too,” I said.

“Well, I have to take more pictures,” Andre said. He held up his camera and then stepped back to take a few candid shots of Aunt Betty and Freddy.

“And I have a commitment to drink more at the bar,” Nick said. He and Andre waved as they walked back into the crowd.

“I will escort you all home,” Harrison said. “I have my car and can give everyone a lift.”

“Oh, that’s sweet of you,” Aunt Betty said. She patted his arm and handed him Freddy’s leash. “Be a dear and carry Freddy, won’t you? He’s tired from the long day.”

Harry gave me a wry glance and I tucked my laugh into my cheek. When he bent down and picked up Freddy, the happy corgi took advantage and licked Harry’s face. This time I laughed out loud.

Viv and Aunt Betty walked ahead, leading the way through the crowd, and I fell in beside Harrison. He carried Freddy, who was a sturdy little fellow, as if he weighed nothing at all.

“What say we drop everyone off and you come back to my place?” Harry asked.

Of course I was going to say yes, duh, but I liked to keep Harry on his toes.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I have to sort my socks tonight.”

“I have gelato in the freezer,” he countered.

“Tempting, but I’ve been thinking I need to learn to cook and tonight is the night.”

“All right, I’ll just have to catch up on the latest episode of Bodyguard by myself.” He adjusted Freddy in his arms and heaved a sigh.

“Playing the Richard Madden card is dirty pool.”

A slow grin spread across his lips. “So, you’re in?”

“Natch,” I said. Then I grinned at him and said, “Actually, I was in all along. I just wanted you to work for it a bit.”

“One of the many reasons I love you,” he said. Then he kissed me and we slipped out the door that Viv held open for us and into the night.

---

*   *   *

I arrived home from Harry’s bright and early. The shop wouldn’t open for a few hours but Viv and Fee were already in the workroom. I could hear the radio broadcasting BBC 2—we all enjoyed the human-interest aspect to the reporting—and I tried to slink to the stairs before Viv or Fee saw me.

I glanced across the shop at my grandmother’s favorite cabinet. It was an old wooden piece with a bird, I called him Ferd, carved across the top with wings open and head pointed down. He had freaked me out when I was a kid. In truth, he still gave me the shivers. I swear, he watched everything that was going on, but I had begun to talk to him when I first moved back and the habit had stuck. I held my finger up to my lips in a shh gesture. Ferd said nothing, so I figured we understood each other.

“G’mornin’, Scarlett,” Viv called from the back. “Have a nice night with Harry?”

I slumped over, glaring at Ferd as if it were his fault. Hoping that Viv had a pot of coffee or tea going, I trudged to the workroom. I knew I looked a wreck with no makeup and a scorching case of postshower, air-dried hair, but at least I kept some of my clothes over at Harry’s so I had a fresh outfit on and wasn’t arriving in last night’s cocktail dress. That would be entirely too walk-of-shame-ish.

“Cup of coffee?” Fee asked me as I entered the room.

“Yes, please.” I nodded. All was forgiven.

I dumped my purse on the table and slid onto one of the short stools that were scattered around the steel-topped worktable where Viv sat. She was attaching a large rosette in a pale pink silk onto a delicate straw hat of the same color. Ribbons had already been fastened and the rosette sat atop the bows. I knew that this particular hat was being made in a variety of spring colors for the Easter crowd. I also knew these hats would go for five hundred and twenty-five pounds each or, at the current exchange rate, six hundred eighty-one dollars American. For. A. Hat. It boggles, doesn’t it?

Fee poured me a cup of coffee from the carafe on the counter and slid it across the table to me along with a spoon. Then she delivered the cream and sugar containers. I do love her so.

I had slept late at Harry’s and was still fuzzy, as I’d raced out of his apartment without any magic bean or leaf juice. Harry drank tea in the morning, which was all right but it just lacked the punch to the face that coffee offered. I had yet to bring him over to the dark side of java, but I had cracked Fee and Viv, so I knew it was just a matter of time.

“Did Harrison come with you?” Viv asked. “I was hoping he’d feel like cooking us breakfast.”

“No, he hurried off to rugby practice,” I said. “We’ll have to make do with cereal.”

None of us could cook. Technically, I suppose we could if we wanted to but so far none of us were inclined to learn.

“I’m so tired of cereal.” Viv pouted. “I clearly need a spouse.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to point out that Alistair probably loved to cook, but given how snappy she’d been about it before, I decided not to say anything.

“Or a live-in cook,” Fee suggested. “Much less annoying than a spouse, yeah?”

Viv let go of her hat and tapped her lips with her index finger. “You might be onto something. Especially when Scarlett moves out to live with her hubby.”

“Or you could date someone, say a hot, rugby-attorney-type someone,” I said. Okay, my filter is clearly faulty, and I really didn’t mean to say that out loud. I swear.

“Are you talking about Alistair?” Fee asked. “He was spectacular on the pitch, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was,” I said.

Viv shrugged and looked back down at her hat. She was obviously ignoring my suggestion. So annoying.

Fee was fiddling with the velvet trim on the brim of the hat she was working on. It was another spring creation. The white straw hat had been shaped into a fedora style and then she’d attached a lavender velvet ribbon around the brim, which complimented the spray of multihued feathers that decorated the crown. It really was spectacular and I marveled at how her talents had developed in the years she’d been Viv’s apprentice and now assistant.

“So, are you not interested in Alistair?” Fee asked. She gave Viv a side-eye as if she didn’t want to look her directly in the eyes when she asked.

I sipped my coffee and stared over the rim of the mug at the two of them. Was Fee interested in Alistair? What would Viv make of that? Oh, dear, this could get seriously complicated.

“Why do you ask?” Viv glanced at Fee.

“No reason, just . . .” Fee’s voice trailed off and I found myself leaning forward to hear what she had to say. Just what? Don’t leave me hanging like this!

Viv frowned. Fee looked back down at her hat. “No reason. He’s just a brilliant rugby player, is all.”

She picked up her hat and turned away from us as she went to store it on a stand on the far wall where they kept all of their hats in various states of doneness. Viv looked at me and she blinked and then widened her eyes. When I shrugged, she pointed at Fee and mouthed the name Alistair and then held her hands up in a what does this mean? gesture.

I glanced at Fee, who was retrieving her next project, a pretty cap with netting, both of which were dyed the color of grass in spring. I quickly shook my head at Viv to indicate I had no idea. Was Fee interested in Alistair? It certainly sounded like it and given that Viv had been ignoring Alistair for the better part of a year, I thought Fee should go for it, but I didn’t say this out loud.

“Will Harrison be—” Viv began but my phone sounded from my bag, cutting her off. I pulled the phone out of the side compartment and glanced at the screen. It was Harry.

“Speak of the devil,” I said. I held up my phone and Viv waved her hand at me, indicating I should answer. “Hi, Harry, how goes practice?”

“I’ve got a situation, Ginger. Can I borrow you from the shop for a bit?”

I felt the blood rush out of my head. I braced myself against the table. “Are you hurt?”

“No, nothing like that,” he said. “It’s Aunt Betty.”

“Aunt Betty?” I asked.

“Yes, she’s at the dog show,” he said. “They’re refusing to let her in.”

“What?” I gasped. “Why?”

“I’m betting it has something to do with how she tore into Swendson last night,” he said.

“Oh, no,” I said.

“I’m too far away to get to her, but she called me and she’s distraught,” he said. “Is there any way you can head over there and keep her company until I can get there? I want to talk to someone before she throws in the towel on Freddy’s chance to be best in show.”

“I’m on my way,” I said. I ended the call and rose to my feet, downing my hot coffee. “We have a situation. Aunt Betty is at the dog show and they are refusing to let her in. I’m going over to sit with her until Harry gets there.”

“What?” Viv snapped. “But she has hats.”

I had to fight my smile. With Viv it would always come down to the hats.

“Care to come with me?” I asked. “You can advocate for the hats.”

Viv picked up her work in progress and placed it on a blank mannequin’s head. She turned to Fee and asked, “Can you handle the shop for a bit on your own?”

“Of course,” she said. “Go rescue Aunt Betty.”

---

*   *   *

The dog show was at the same place the cocktail party had been so Viv and I took the same route on the Tube. It was quicker today with less of a rush-hour crush. Halfway there, I realized I hadn’t eaten breakfast and my stomach made its unhappiness known with a righteous grumble that was thankfully drowned out by the sound of the train.

When we approached the big brick building, we found the crowd was just as thick today but there was an air of anticipation that was palpable. Dogs and their handlers were everywhere and, looking for Aunt Betty, I scanned the crowd. She was so petite; it was impossible to see her in the throng of people.

“Over there,” Viv said. She pointed toward a massive registration table.

It was festooned with a big banner that had the PAWS logo on it. Tucked off to the side in the corner was Aunt Betty with Freddy at her side. They wore matching light brown trilby hats with a dashing green ribbon around the crown and a matching one on the edge of the brim. They looked very smart and had their hats tipped at the same jaunty angle. Fun fact: historically when a woman’s hat is worn at an angle it always tilts to the right to accommodate her escort, a man, who would walk on her left between her and the street traffic.

Unfortunately, even the hat couldn’t hide the look of despair on Aunt Betty’s face. She looked so tiny and sad and rejected, like a kid looking for a friend on the playground, that I felt my temper heat. What had they done to her?

I began to stride forward and Viv fell in beside me. I imagined we looked like Beyoncé and Kelly Rowland in a GIF taken from one of their Destiny’s Child music videos, strutting forward and looking like we were about to kick some serious tail. I certainly felt like it. No one put Aunt Betty and Freddy in a corner.

“Aunt Betty!” I climbed the short steps up to the dais and stopped in front of her. “What’s happening?”

“Oh, Scarlett.” Aunt Betty reached out her free hand and grabbed mine as if she needed me to give her strength. “They’ve kicked me and Freddy out of the show. Even though I already registered and paid, they said they can’t find my paperwork and that’s that. They won’t even let me reregister, as if I’d be willing to pay that exorbitant fee twice.”

“Did they actually look for your paperwork?” Viv asked.

Aunt Betty turned to her and smiled, obviously grateful to have our support, and then shook her head, her smile fading. “No. The woman over there with the cowlick and the scowl flipped through some papers and said she couldn’t find it. I don’t think she really tried.”

“Well, she will this time,” I said.

I am a people pleaser, this is true, unless you are in a position of service and you refuse to serve. Then I’m going to call you out and badger you until I get what I want. I approached the woman with the short gray hair that did indeed have a cowlick that made it stick up. She smiled at me in greeting until she noticed Aunt Betty beside me and then she scowled.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, we are looking for our entrance papers,” I said. “The name is Betty Wentworth and the canine is Freddy.”

“I already looked. We don’t have those names.” Her chin jutted out.

“Well, since the registration fee has been paid, I suggest you quickly make some new papers,” I said.

“Prove it,” the woman said. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking very pleased with herself.

I silently prayed that Betty had brought a receipt with her and then I turned to her with a smile and said, “Any chance you have . . . ?”

Betty held up a receipt. I almost hugged her. Viv grinned, and I took the paper and turned back to the surly gal.

“You were saying?” I asked. I slapped the receipt down in front of her.

Her lips twisted into a little puckered-up moue of displeasure. This should not have given me as much satisfaction as it did. But it did.

“Ms. Stanhope, we have a situation,” the woman said. She rose from her seat and turned away from us to address a woman who was standing several feet back behind the registration table.

Stanhope. This must be the socialite Liza Stanhope, who had been there when Aunt Betty had registered, the one who had said a corgi would never win. I studied her. She was tall and thin, and everything about her seemed pointy. Her nose, her chin, the wicked narrow tips of her shoes. I was betting her elbows and knees could be lethal if she put in some effort.

She approached us, with her reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her face looked as if it had been stretched and lifted until it maintained a glossy sheen that resembled plastic. It was not a good look. Her hair was dyed an inky shade of black and was styled in waves that should have softened her features but didn’t. Large black pearls adorned her ears and a string of the same circled her throat. She wore a white blouse with the collar up, framing her face, over a pin-striped skirt in browns and greens with a wide brown leather belt.

She was holding a pen in one hand, and her fingernails resembled red talons. She looked as if she would poke out the eye of anyone she was displeased with and I feared that someone was going to be me.

“What situation?” Ms. Stanhope asked. Her voice was low and soft and yet we could still hear her over the crowd. The hair on the back of my neck began to prickle.

“Hello, Liza,” Aunt Betty said, stepping out from behind me.

Liza Stanhope’s eyebrows lifted up on her forehead. “Betty.”

“Apparently, there’s been a mix-up with my registration,” Betty said.

“No, there hasn’t,” Liza said.

The two women watched each other and I glanced between them, back and forth, waiting to see who would make the next move.

“No?” Betty asked. She gestured to her receipt. “Then why do I have a receipt for payment and yet am not registered to be in the dog show?”

“Your registration has been misplaced, there’s no mix-up,” Liza said.

I felt myself sag with relief. I glanced at Viv and gave her a relieved smile. This was good, we were going to be able to figure this out and get Aunt Betty and Freddy into the dog show. Harry would be so relieved. Heck, I was so relieved. Viv didn’t return my smile. Instead, her head tilted to the side as she studied Liza Stanhope as if expecting more. She wasn’t wrong.

“And your registration is going to keep getting misplaced,” Liza said. Her gaze on Betty never wavered.

Uh-oh!

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t quite understand.”

Liza didn’t bother to acknowledge me.

“You can’t do that,” Aunt Betty huffed. “You were right there when I filled out my paperwork. I gave it to you—”

Liza smiled. It was a slow shift of her lips, like a poisonous vine unfurling in the sunlight. “Huh, I have no recollection of that. How odd. I guess this is what happens when you threaten to poison our main sponsor in a drunken tirade.”

“Ah!” Aunt Betty gasped. “I was not drunk and it wasn’t a tirade. I was merely informing Mr. Swendson about some quality control concerns I had with his dog food.”

Like me and Viv, Freddy was glancing between the two women as if it was a volleyball match. He was seated at Aunt Betty’s feet, looking adorably confused. I reached down and patted his head. Viv glanced from Freddy to Liza.

“You almost lost us our biggest sponsor,” Liza snapped. “Now you are out of the show and so is your mongrel.”

“That was completely uncalled for,” Aunt Betty seethed. I really thought she was going to clap her hands over Freddy’s ears. “Say what you want about me, but leave Freddy out of it.”

“He’s with you,” Liza snarled. “So you bet I’ll leave him out. I’ll leave him out of the dog show for good.”

I was a little afraid the two women were going to come to blows. I glanced behind me to see if Viv thought the same and, if so, how did she think we should get Aunt Betty out of here before the whole situation got out of control. She wasn’t there.

I scanned the crowd of dogs and their people behind us. I didn’t see Viv anywhere. How could she have wandered off now? Wasn’t that just like her? Always disappearing when things were getting dicey. I don’t mean to complain but, honestly, I was so tired of having to figure everything out by myself. It was just exhausting.

“You can’t do this,” I said to Liza Stanhope. “She has a receipt. She paid. You need to let her compete.”

“Who are you?” Liza asked. She starred at me over the tops of her reading glasses.

“Scarlett Parker,” I said. “I’m a friend.”

“Well, Scarlett, if you’re such a good friend, you should have stopped her from accosting Mr. Swendson last night. He’s threatened to pull his sponsorship of the dog show if she’s in it,” Liza snapped. She looked in irritation at Aunt Betty. “What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how much money is at stake if he pulls his sponsorship?”

“And if his dog food makes dogs sick?” Aunt Betty countered. “That’s okay? We’re supposed to be helping dogs, not harming them.”

“What seems to be the trouble, Liza?” The woman who joined us was sturdily built and dressed in jeans, hiking boots and a hand-knit sweater. She had ruddy cheeks and her white hair was tousled as if she’d just stepped inside after striding across a moor in the wilds of Yorkshire.

“It’s nothing, Mary,” Liza said. Her voice was tight.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” Mary said. Her voice was mild but I sensed a note of authority behind it. Liza must have heard it, too.

“It’s just a registration mix-up. We’ll take care of it,” Liza said.

It hit me then that Mary must be Mary Swendson, Gerry Swendson’s sister and co-owner of the dog food empire. I thought it was interesting that Liza didn’t want to out Aunt Betty as the woman who had accosted Gerry the night before. I wondered why. In true administrative style, Liza just wanted to pretend nothing had happened and make it go away. Pro tip: that never works.

“Here you are,” Viv said. She popped up on the other side of Aunt Betty and Freddy. She held a packet of papers in one hand, a badge on a lanyard in the other. “Freddy is entered in the dog show—”

“What?” Liza Stanhope gasped.

Viv looped a lanyard around my neck. “There now. You and Freddy are all set.”

“Excuse me?” I asked. I looked from the badge to Viv.

She looked from me to Aunt Betty. “Given the circumstances, I think it’s best that someone unknown enters with Freddy.”

“And you chose me?” I asked.

“You’re the one who wants a dog,” she said.

“Who did this?” Liza fumed. “How dare they? I’ll have their jobs.”

“Given that they’re volunteers, that seems rather counterproductive, doesn’t it?” Mary asked. “And what’s wrong with this Freddy that you disapprove of him so?”

Liza’s upper lip curled up on one side, and I thought I heard her growl. “Nothing.”

Mary glanced over the table at Freddy, who was still sitting like a little gentleman. “Hello, there,” she said to him. “You were in the show last year, weren’t you?”

I wondered if she expected him to answer.

“Yes, he was,” Aunt Betty said. “Last year and the two years prior as well.”

Mary smiled at her. “Well, I hope this is his year, then.”

“Thank you,” Aunt Betty said. “I do, too. He’s entered with Scarlett this year, so maybe that will change his luck.”

I felt my insides twist with nerves. I was so out of my depth; I was surprised I didn’t drown on dry land.

“You look nervous,” Mary said. Her voice was kind.

“A little,” I admitted.

“Dogs are pack animals. Freddy will follow your lead so long as you establish your dominance,” she said.

“Dominance?” My voice squeaked. How mortifying.

“You need to be his alpha,” she explained. “The dog hierarchy is alpha, beta and omega, with the alpha the dominant above all others, the beta subservient only to the alpha, and the omega subservient to everyone. With you and Freddy, you need to be his alpha so he can be your beta.”

I glanced down at Freddy. His pointy ears had swiveled while he listened and I wondered what he made of this. His tongue hung out the side of his mouth and he looked like he wanted to please. Maybe this would work.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.

“Good luck.”

Mary left us and I noticed Liza’s face had turned a mottled shade of red. She looked like she was about to have security called to escort us out of the building.

“So glad this is sorted,” Viv said. She gestured to the exit. “Shall we?”

“This isn’t over, Wentworth,” Liza called after Aunt Betty.

Aunt Betty paused and gave her a haughty stare and said, “Of course it isn’t. It won’t be over until my Freddy has won.”

Then she turned back around and gestured for Viv and me to fall in behind her and Freddy, which we did. Talk about your natural alpha. If they expected me to be able to do that, we were so screwed.