A list of things I’m currently good at:
- Eating.
- Pooping.
- Begging for treats.
- Looking adorable.
- Being naughty.
I was especially good at the last one. If being naughty qualified as an Olympic sport, I’d have earned a gold medal by now.
After our early morning adventure at Puppy Preschool, Miss Josie and I returned home exhausted. Ms. Anne and Gracie waited inside for us. Mrs. Steele worked in the back, cataloging books, but she stuck her head out the door and greeted us.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“It could have been worse,” said Miss Josie, breezing in and taking off her coat. “No one died, and we aren’t banned from the dog center. Yet.”
Ms. Anne winced. “Was it so bad?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Although Capone did rock agility training.”
“Well, that’s something, right?”
“I guess so. Thanks for helping this morning. I appreciate it.”
“Gracie and I like hanging out here, and it’s my fault you had to go to Misty Mountain in the first place.”
“True,” said Miss Josie, giving her a dirty look.
“Did you get to meet Sexy Trainer Dude?”
“No, but I saw him at a distance.”
“Oh, dear. You probably had the grumpy guy.”
“Yep,” said Miss Josie sadly. “And he told me dogs live up to their names. I have to think of a new one for Capone.”
I ran to get my Darcy toy and bumped her in the knee with it. Repeatedly. She took it from my mouth and tossed it, completely not understanding my message.
“You can’t be serious, Josie,” said Ms. Anne. “Do you think by naming him Capone he’s going to form an organized crime ring and start bootlegging?”
Miss Josie looked at me. “No, but he deserves a better name.”
Ms. Anne gave her a knowing smile. “You like him.”
“Of course, I like him,” said Miss Josie with a frown. “Which is why I want to come up with a different name. He is not a Capone.”
I brought her the Darcy toy again, brimming with hope. She dashed it immediately. “How about Lancelot?”
“Not Lancelot. It’s pretentious.”
She sighed. “Quixote?”
“Even worse.”
She took the Mr. Darcy toy from my mouth and barely even glanced at it before tossing it across the room. “Fetch, boy.”
I didn’t want to play fetch. I hated playing fetch. I wanted a new name.
Oh, calamity.
Note to self: Miss Josie is not as smart as I thought.
Ms. Anne handed her a cup with the First Impressions logo on the side. “Here. A little caffeine will help. It’ll wake up your brain.”
Miss Josie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t drink coffee,” she said but took a sip anyway. “Mmmm. Is this caramel?”
“I’m not sure. Nate brought it over this morning.”
Miss Josie put the cup down. “I thought it was from you.”
“No, but he’s a nice guy, Josie. Don’t get bent out of shape.”
She chewed on her lower lip. “I know. You’re right, but he brings out the worst in me. I’m so crabby and mean around him. I’m sure he hates me.”
Ms. Anne raised one eyebrow. “A man doesn’t make coffee for a woman he hates.”
“He wants to prove he can turn me into a coffee drinker like he has some magical power. But I have news for him. It’s not going to happen.”
“Good to know. By the way, this was attached to your cup.” Ms. Anne handed Miss Josie a folded piece of white paper. Miss Josie opened it with a confused frown on her face.
“Unbelievable,” she said, laughing. “He’s actually reading Pride and Prejudice.”
She showed Ms. Anne the note, and Ms. Anne read it out loud. “So far, Mr. Darcy is kind of a jerk. I’m on chapter four. Drink your coffee.”
“He’s so bossy,” said Miss Josie, but she took the note from Ms. Anne and read it again, a smile on her face, before folding it carefully and putting it into her pocket.
Ms. Anne studied her closely. “I think you and Nate got off on the wrong foot.”
“I think you’re right,” said Miss Josie grudgingly. She picked up the coffee and took another sip. When she caught Ms. Anne watching her, she put it back on the counter again. “But I’m still not going to start liking this stuff.”
“Whatever you say, cupcake. What’s on the schedule for today?”
Miss Josie pursed her lips. “Inventory. It’s taking forever. Mr. Bartleby left a mess behind, but it wasn’t his fault. His memory was going, and he misplaced several of the ledgers. I found two on a shelf in the garden shed.”
“Why would he put them in the shed?”
“Who knows? The most recent ledger is still missing. I’ll probably find it ten years from now, in an old cookie tin or something.”
“Hidden treasure,” said Ms. Anne. “Maybe he also left behind a pot of gold. He did resemble a leprechaun.”
She pointed to the photo on the wall above the cash register of a little bald man with sparkling eyes and an infectious grin. I didn’t know anything about leprechauns, but Mr. Bartleby seemed like the sort of man who would slip me treats under the dinner table. In other words, my kind of guy.
Miss Josie pulled out her laptop. “Back to work,” she said. “Mrs. Steele, shall we try this one more time?”
“Certainly,” said Mrs. Steele, bustling over to her. “I finished packing up all the online orders for the day, and I don’t have to send out the books for the university library until tomorrow. I have nothing else to do at the moment. Many hands make light work.”
Miss Josie smiled at her. “I appreciate your help.”
“I love this shop, Josie. It’s provided a great deal for me over the years…” Mrs. Steele got so teary her glasses fogged up, and she had to wipe them with a hankie she pulled out of her pocket. She cleared her throat. “I’m honored to help in any way I can.”
“Thank you,” said Miss Josie. “Although you might regret your offer once you see what we have to do.”
Mrs. Steele patted her arm. “We’ll get through it, dearie. Don’t you worry. I know this shop like the back of my hand, and Benjamin always said I had a good nose for sniffing out a valuable manuscript. We’ll find what’s missing. I promise.”
I discovered I thoroughly enjoyed doing inventory, especially when Miss Josie leaned down to look at the books on the bottom shelves. It gave me a chance to lick her face, paw at her glasses, and nibble on her hair.
“Capone. Please,” she said, as I stole her pen for the one-hundredth time and ran around the shop with it. I wanted to play chase. She wanted to get work done—a problem since we had different goals.
As she attempted to wrestle the pen from me, the bell above the door tinkled. I let go of it so suddenly Miss Josie fell onto her bottom, but I didn’t help her to her feet. I rushed toward the door, barking and hopping at the same time, the Labradorean equivalent of a hyperactive kangaroo.
A man stood in the doorway. He towered above me and shot me a decidedly dirty look over the rim of his wire-rimmed glasses before letting out a loud sneeze.
“A dog, Josie? Are you kidding?” he asked, pulling a tissue from the pocket of his tweed coat to wipe his nose.
Miss Josie, still on the floor, gaped at him. “What are you doing here, Cedric?”
“Yes, Cedric,” said Ms. Anne with a snarl. “Shouldn’t you be at home with your wife?”
Mrs. Steele popped in from the rear of the shop. As soon as she heard Ms. Anne’s words, she turned on her heel and went straight back from whence she came. Miss Josie didn’t appear to notice. She kept her gaze on the man in front of her.
Cedric the Betrayer.
I hated him instantly. I placed my body between Cedric and Miss Josie and let out a soft growl. I’m an inexperienced growler, so the effect was not as terrifying as I’d hoped.
Miss Josie patted me on my head, and said, “Good boy,” under her breath as she got to her feet.
“I came to collect some items from the shop belonging to me,” said Cedric, sneezing again.
“I’ve never seen anything of yours here,” said Miss Josie, her brow wrinkling in confusion.
“Mr. Bartleby promised me several books from his private collection.”
Ms. Anne snorted. “He did not. You’re such a liar, Cedric.”
I sidled closer to Miss Josie, and she stood a little taller, holding her ground even though it must have been hard for her. “I’m not obligated to give you anything,” she said. “Unless you have some kind of written proof.”
I wanted to stand up and cheer. Gosh, I hated Cedric the Betrayer. I wished I could pee on his shoes or something, but that might upset Miss Josie further, so I refrained from following through on my urge. I still wanted to, though. Badly.
Cedric did not give up as quickly as I’d hoped. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes, which seemed to be watering.
“Cedric, are you crying?” asked Josie.
“No, I’m allergic to dogs. Obviously.” He let out a long sigh and appeared to count to ten. “Look, Josephine, those books would be of little or no value to you, but they hold a great deal of sentimental importance to me. I worked for Mr. Bartleby long before you came here. I traveled the world and procured many of his finest pieces for him. By all rights, this shop should be mine.”
I felt a subtle shift in the air and knew if Miss Josie had hackles, they would have been rising right now. “Mr. Bartleby left me the shop because he trusted me to carry on his legacy. He didn’t feel the same way about you.”
“His legacy?” he asked with a snort. “You must be kidding. You’ll be lucky if you can stay open another year. Two at tops. You have no idea what you’re doing, and one word from me could destroy you. Like that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
Miss Josie folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin into the air. “You don’t scare me, Cedric. After you tried to pass off a fake Doria Atlas as the real thing, you’ve lost all credibility.”
His cheeks reddened. “I don’t have to defend myself. Just give me my books, or I promise you’ll regret it.”
“Stop right there,” said Ms. Anne. “No one threatens Josie. It’s time for you to go, mister.”
Miss Josie agreed. “Anne’s right,” she said, a weary sadness in her eyes. “Leave now, or I’ll call the police.”
He blinked at her in surprise, straightening his jacket. “This isn’t the last you’ll hear from me.”
“Oh, goody. I’m looking forward to it.” Miss Josie sounded so brave, but I heard a deep sadness in her voice.
Cedric must have heard it, too. He changed tactics, lowering his voice and adopting a gentler tone. “I know how badly I hurt you, and I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”
“You’re only sorry she found out the truth,” said Ms. Anne.
Cedric snarled at her. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“It most certainly does—”
“Anne. Please.” Miss Josie shot her a pleading look. Ms. Anne lifted her hands in surrender and went to the back of the shop. Still within listening distance, but far enough away to provide them with a modicum of privacy.
Cedric’s gaze returned to Miss Josie’s face. “I understand why you hate me, and I don’t blame you, but I miss you, Josie. You were my best friend, my partner, my equal. We made a great team, personally as well as professionally. You know it’s true. Together we could have done something spectacular.”
She stared up at him, her eyes all misty and melancholy and sad. She wasn’t thinking straight, so when he reached for her, I reacted. I had to protect her.
Although tall, Cedric had a thin frame and the reflexes of an elderly sloth. One push from me sent him falling into a display of books about the joys of autumn in Western Pennsylvania. I narrowly avoided getting concussed by a sizable volume on fall foliage, but Cedric wasn’t as lucky. As he slipped to the ground, a book about avian migration hit him in the face, causing his glasses to fall off his nose. When I picked them up with my mouth, this led to another fun game of chase. Cedric followed me through the shop as I ducked and weaved, avoiding him with ease. Cedric seemed to have little or no experience with those of the canine persuasion.
“Give me my glasses now,” he said, growling with frustration.
Miss Josie let the game continue for a few minutes before she said, ever so casually, “Drop it, Capone.”
For the first time ever, I listened to her, dropping the glasses into a mangled heap on the floor. Cedric picked them up gingerly. He tried to wipe off the drool with a tissue, but it got soaked in minutes, and the glasses were a twisted mess. He placed them on his nose, where they hung awkwardly, damaged beyond repair. He sneezed again, and, when he spoke, he sounded stuffy.
“You haven’t heard the last from me. I will get back what is rightfully mine, and I expect to be compensated for these glasses, too.”
“Don’t waste your time,” said Miss Josie, giving him a smug little finger wave. “It’s not going to happen.”
After he left, Ms. Anne clapped. “Way to go, girlie. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” said Miss Josie, but her bravado slipped away as soon as Cedric walked out the door.
“What did you ever see in him?”
She leaned against the high table near the vault. “He used to be so nice. So kind. We understood each other. He was smart and funny and knew more about books than anyone, even Mr. Bartleby. I never had to explain things to him. We clicked. He was the first man I ever loved.” She stared out the window, a faraway look in her eyes. “The only man I ever loved.”
Oh, calamity. Could Miss Josie still be a little in love with Cedric? Didn’t she pay any attention at all when we watched the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice? He was Mr. Wickham and not Mr. Darcy. How could she have missed it?
“I’m sorry, kiddo, but he’s not worth it. I never liked him, and the best thing you can do now is get over him as quickly as possible.”
“Is that why you’ve been trying to set me up with all the men in Beaver?” Miss Josie asked wryly.
“Well, yes,” said Ms. Anne. “This place is like a smorgasbord, and you’ve been on a starvation diet. You need to get out, get back into the game, and get over that loser. Also, you should spend more time with people your age. I know a lot of your friends moved away after graduation, but I’m sure some of them are still here. It’s better than hanging out with us. Mrs. Steele and I are both too old for you.”
“You are not,” said Miss Josie with a sigh. “Of course, I’d love to spend time with my friends, but I doubt they’d want to see me.”
“What do you mean?”
“While I dated Cedric, I spent all my free time with him. It was so wrong of me. For a while, my friends tried to make plans with me, but eventually they gave up and drifted away. I don’t blame them, but I couldn’t exactly call them after we broke up. First of all, I didn’t want to explain what had happened. It was too embarrassing. Secondly, I didn’t deserve their friendship anymore. I messed up. I’m not sure how they’d forgive me.”
Ms. Anne squeezed her arm. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure your friends would love to see you. And the best way to get over Cedric is to move on.”
Miss Josie raised an eyebrow at her. “I can tell you aren’t going to drop this, but I have horrible luck with men. That should be obvious by now. I’m not exactly a social butterfly, you know. I’m not even sure what kind of man I want, or what kind of man would want me.”
I knew exactly what kind of man she needed. Why couldn’t she see it? I grabbed my Darcy toy and bumped her with it, trying again to get my message across. Miss Josie took the toy from me and stared at the little top-hatted version of Mr. Darcy in her hands. For a second, I thought maybe she understood, but then she tossed it across the room.
“Fetch,” she said.
Hopeless. I needed to find another way to communicate with her.
Miss Josie stared at me. “Why doesn’t he fetch?” she asked. “Aren’t Labradors retrievers? Shouldn’t they retrieve? He doesn’t seem to understand. This is so frustrating.”
Welcome to my world, Miss Josie. And “frustrating” doesn’t even begin to cover it.