Ways to know Mr. Nate is in the doghouse:
- Miss Josie looks like she sucked on a lemon.
- She slams things.
- She mutters to herself.
- She swears she’ll never trust him again.
As soon as Mrs. Norris left, Miss Josie put me on my leash, and we marched over to the café. People looked at her in surprise as she went straight up to the counter, but she ignored them.
“I need to speak with Nate,” she said. “It’s important.”
The barista had purple hair, a nose ring, and a slightly bored expression on her face. “You mean Mr. Murray?”
“Yes,” said Miss Josie. She sat at a corner table, crossed her legs, and tapped her foot impatiently. She had on a black and grey checked skirt with a grey cardigan twinset. Her legs were bare, probably because I’d destroyed most of her tights, and her shoes were charcoal grey with pointy toes.
I loved the pointy toes. I hopped on them, batting at them as Miss Josie tapped her foot. Such a fun game, but Miss Josie ignored me, even when I drooled on her. She seemed both preoccupied and pissed off. This analysis was confirmed as soon as Mr. Nate appeared, wearing a navy sweater with a cable knit pattern and a pair of faded jeans. He had his copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands. His face lit up when he saw us, but his joy quickly diminished when he noticed the expression on Miss Josie’s face.
“What happened?” he asked. “Did Capone eat something else? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” she said, her voice icy. “But I’m not.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Do you like putting little old ladies out of business?”
He looked confused. I was confused as well. Mrs. Norris said she planned to close her shop, but she’d never said Mr. Nate forced her to do it.
Mr. Nate pointed over his shoulder to the coffee bar. “Let me grab you a coffee, and we’ll chat.”
“I don’t drink coffee,” she said through tightly clenched teeth.
“Fine. Tea. I’ll get you some tea.”
She stood up and stamped her foot, which I had to admit looked kind of funny, especially with those pointy-toed shoes. “I don’t want beverages. I want to know the truth. Are you buying Mrs. Norris’s store?”
He swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, but—” Miss Josie cut him off.
“And did the plans you showed to the city council a few months ago include Bartleby’s as well?”
He ran a hand through his curly brown hair. “It’s not like that, Josie. I swear.”
Her jaw tightened. “You haven’t answered my question. Yes, or no? It’s pretty simple. Did your plans include tearing down both Bartleby’s and the haberdashery to expand your coffee shop?” He gave her one curt nod, and her shoulders slumped. “Then, I don’t need to know anything else.”
“Let me explain…”
“No, Nate. There is nothing left to say.”
She walked out the door, her expression grim. “Never again,” she said, looking down at me. “I trusted Nate, but he’s a man, and they’re all the same. They aren’t like men in books, men in real life are…” She paused, trying to come up with the right word and couldn’t. “Well, they’re not like Mr. Darcy. Not even a little.”
Her words made me so upset for her. I licked her bare ankles as a way of showing I cared. She got the message.
“Thanks, buddy,” she said, patting me on the head. “Let’s go home.”
Note to self: A little ankle licking goes a long way.
Mr. Nate might want to give the whole ankle licking thing a try. After all, he couldn’t be in more trouble than he was right now.
I let out a frustrated groan. With dogs, it was simple. We sniffed each other’s butts and could tell right away if we liked each other or not. Humans were so much more complicated. They puzzled me. Yesterday Miss Josie and Mr. Nate had kissed each other quite affectionately on the couch, but today he made her furious. The PBS special didn’t cover this kind of stuff. The back and forth nature of their relationship gave me a bad case of whiplash.
I needed to solve this and soon, before Miss Josie headed down a dark, lonely road. A bitter person could not fall in love or find happiness. I had to help her fix this before it was too late.